Supersweet

Plastic Pulp Fiction

Turning and Turning in a Widening Gyre*

Texas-sized plastic soup

When Liars pitched to us about the ‘Plastic Island’ we couldn’t find a single image about an actual island, except for an eager man who lived on a floating beach pile, created from discarded water bottles.  Like Angus “I thought it was bullshit” Andrew, we dug a little deeper into “crap out in the ocean” scoop, to discover that recent research confirms the North Pacific Gyre is polluted with overwhelming amounts of plastic, coined ‘Plastic Soup’ and sadly, little can be done to reverse the effects. Dramatically reminding “how much damage we're doing to the planet”, Angus delivered to SUPERSWEET his interpretation of a possible plastic-born reality. 

I grew up on Plastic Island - washed up here when I was young. Both my parents drowned when our boat capsized during some environmental demo in the Pacific. I got chucked in a dingy and here I am. I like to think my folks would be proud of what I've become. Even though they hated plastic more than anything else, I'm sure they'd agree I've made out pretty well... 
 


I spend my time collecting and sorting. Sorting and collecting. Each day a new array of items appear on the shore. From footballs and Kayaks to Lego and port-a-loos - there's a seemingly unending supply of things to collect . But I've seen whole cars float up out here. Things you wouldn't believe.  Furniture, fax machines - each day brings another surprise. I'll lasso stuff up with my wealth of plastic bottles and harness it to the Island with drift netting. Hey, it’s what I do.  
 


Sounds weird, but sometimes it feels like the ocean is guiding me - like we're working together on this big thing. She rolls around the world catching relics and funnels them back here to me. And so the Island grows. We're making something, she and I. I know that much. But it’s her plan not mine. I'm just doing what's come naturally to me. What feels 'right'.       
 


And it does. Especially when it comes to sorting. My passion. I go by color. I've got bits and pieces sorted all the way from ludicrous pink to uncomfortable beige. Everything organized just the way I see it. Precisely. For example, I'll spend days in green, toiling away at the border between drab olive and olive surprise - examining articles, then moving them to form color content relationships. I find it gives the Island a sense of geography. A way to navigate this place we're building…

Click here for some scary facts...

* Taken from W.B Yeats ‘The Second Coming’

Words: Angus Andrew
Illustrations: Julian Gross