The Greenville Independent, Oct. 5, 1994, page 15

Yard art examined

A look at the intricacies of this unsung form of expression

by Lois Carol Wheatley

It is a little-known fact that Greenville sanitation workers must undergo a strenuous training program, not only to identify and separate the four major recycling groups but, more to the point, to study yard art appreciation. This protects both the collectors of garbage and the collectors of yard art, in the event conflicting issues should arise.

Tires represent the major challenge. In the final examination of this course, trainees are faced with a battery of tire-related questions. Should tires be collected with the regular trash pickup when they (a) are piled up on the side of the road in the shape of an ancient pyramid, (b) are propped up against a Dodge Dart on cinderblocks with plenty of tread still left on them, or (c) have been painted bright colors and half-sunk into the ground?

We have seen large groups of workers in conference over various tire configurations, and should also note that hubcaps pose a similar problem.

Garbage experts claim that Andy Warhol was largely responsible for igniting the trash/art controversy, and that one of his lasting influences was the New York City garbage strike during the early 1960s. During that strike, Mr. Warhol was able to have his empty soup cans and soft-drink bottles picked up regularly by arranging them in an amusing fashion and leaving them in an unlocked car.

Warhol may have actually inspired that strike, it is generally believed, by retaining and displaying Brillo boxes and S&H green stamps, thereby displacing thousands of city workers. Indeed, the term “pop” art was coined from his extensive collection of Coca-Cola bottles.

Greenville sanitation workers who have studied this school of art have undoubtedly met and discussed that fallen, dented water heater in my neighborhood, and now see it as a metaphor for a great white whale, lurking in wait for its Captain Ahab, beached, brooding, desolate, while someone mowed around it all summer. They have pondered the Jack Kerouac nature of a lone, yellow refrigerator that stands, roadside, in stark contrast to its leafy surroundings, with a bumper sticker plastered across it that says “Question Reality.”

These items apparently have been determined to be yard statements and allowed to remain through the passing seasons; in the meantime, other neighbors apparently live in fear of having their equally significant lawn accoutrements collected. Just up the street there is a gaggle of geese chained to a nearby tree, and out on Route 33 we have seen a plastic deer in bondage. Imagine our horror when we encountered the Blessed Virgin Mary in shackles.

This securing of yard art represents (a) a total vote of no confidence for the sanitation workers’ yard art training program; (b) a secret fear that these small animals and little people may somehow escape; or (c) the lurking possibility that there may be a Greenville yard art thief. Police have refused to comment on this last possibility, stating that the matter is under close investigation and several possible suspects have been identified.

The Greenville yard art thief, if there is one, would have to be far more clever than to put all those purloined treasures out in the front yard, thereby arousing suspicion. Nothing could be more titillating to the keen instincts of our fine police investigators (who also attend intensive art appreciation programs) than a single lawn packed solid with pink flamingos, plastic ducks, grey squirrels and those little jacketed boys you’re supposed to tie your horse to. It would be silly of this individual to attempt to pull off this art-theft caper without engaging in some sort of major fencing operation; that is, do us all a favor and put up an enormous fence.

Not far from the obscure part of Maryland in which I grew up (if, indeed, it can be said I grew up), there is a tasteful community. By that I mean tastes are dictated by exceptionally stringent housing covenants, and enforced by officials of the local homeowners association. No mailboxes, fences, flower gardens or tree houses are allowed. No boats or campers can be parked in the driveway. No pools, trampolines, satellite dishes, wind socks, swing sets, tires or bird baths. No painting your house any color that’s not an earth tone without prior application and explicit approval.

Garbage cans are subterranean but hardly necessary, since synthetic people like these do not produce garbage. The community is not unlike those futuristic sci-fi movies, wherein all children come out of their houses at the same time, wearing the same clothes, bouncing the same ball to the same beat. There is absolutely no yard art there, nor can there be any yard art theft, which gives the cops the night off. That also controls the spiraling costs of sanitation worker art appreciation training programs.

And since the community is no slave to fashion, there has been no general rush to trade in its wooden replicas of boys and girls kissing behind trees in favor of this latest appliquéd flag trend. And here’s a tip of disposing of the no-longer-fashionable art of last year: put it in a Hefty bag. Put the Hefty bag in the can. At a minimum, at least unchain it.

Here’s another sample question from the sanitation workers’ final exam, bonus round, this one to detect supervisory aptitude. Should you (a) collect the Wheatleys’ garbage, (b) walk past the Wheatleys’ garbage can while cutting through their yard on your way to collect the neighbor’s trash, or (c) knock over the Wheatleys’ garbage can while cutting through their yard on your way to collect the neighbor’s trash?

The correct answer to all of the above multiple-choice questions is, of course, “c.”