1. I have archived much of my life through collected objects.
2. I have moved a smaller studio, making it necessary that I get rid of a lot of these objects.
3. I have done so by using them as the raw material for one enormous collage, created inside a 30-yard dumpster.
4. Oh, also, I have photographed around 500 of these objects and will display them here, accompanied by a brief history of each item.


7.5 x 10.2 x 1 cm
These were from Hunter and I went to California to visit my dad in December, 1991. I smoked Pall Malls because Vonnegut did, and Hunter and I would go for walks at night and before we left, we'd ask each other if we had "the socks", which was code for the Pall Mall cigarettes. We thought we were very clever. I know I was stupid, but even in my forties and not having smoked for a decade and so much better for it, I have to admit that I don't feel any shame in having smoked Pall Malls because Vonnegut did. I kind of think that' still cool, even if I could only handled the filtered version. #fb


9.7 x 9.5 x 1.5 cm
Jonny delivered a script for me to read in a makeshift case made out of the wristband of a wool sweater. I kind of fell in love with the collage it made: digital content in organic casing, all blue and found-object-feeling. I think Jonny has an innately wonderful brain. #fb


14.9 x 13.8 x 9 cm
I bought this at a flea market in Fort Greene, Brooklyn in 2008. I was making art that had video inside it at the time, so I was looking for glasses or stuff like that which could be retrofitted to serve as the viewing component to the piece. My wife spotted this diving mask. I remember that she expressed excitement that she was participating in my art somehow, and I remember feeling how weird that was. Didn't she know that she is the most influential person in my life, that she participates in everything I do, everyday? So I told her that. The end.


12.7 x 8.5 x 2.4 cm
I bought these as stocking stuffers in like 1999. In our family, you buy stocking stuffers for everyone's stocking, even your own. Ok, so in like 1999 I used everyone else's stocking as an excuse to buy myself this cute and useless and beautifully over-designed Chinese toy. #fb


7.7 x 3.1 x 1 cm
Here is a list of all the things that I love about this small object I picked up on 2nd avenue in the late 90's:
1. It was orange at some point.
2. It is beat up good.
3. I don't know what it is. #fb


5.5 in diameter x 1.2 cm
I made a collage called 'IF YOU REARRANGE THE LETTERS IN THE WORD ORDER, YOU GET THE WORD ORDER'. I cut up a poster of a motor diagram into 36 sections and painted out the background using a gradient of 36 blues. If you arrange the poster so that the motor makes sense, you can arrange it 1 way. If you arrange it so that the blues form a pattern, from a clean one to a random one, you end up being able to make approximately 3.7 multiplied by ten to the 41st power. That's an incomprehensible number.
This is the cap to the eighth gradient of blue. #fb


7.0 x 14.5 x .3 cm
This was my grandfather's. His name was George John Johanek, hence the GJJ. He wasn't much of a drinker, as far as I know. I think this was part of a dopp kit, intended to hold cologne. I have to admit, that kind of disappoints me. #fb


14.2 cm diameter x 3.7 cm
I got this at Kaz and Shaydon's bris. There was a bucket of them by the door, because everybody is supposed to don one at such a ceremony. I found this one and was so excited by it that I was allowed to keep it. I wore it the whole way home from New Jersey to Brooklyn. Also, I'm not Jewish. #fb


40 cm x 100 cm
This is a leather belt I owned that almost fit. The holes were fitted at whole-number inch increments, and I am more of a half-size waisted guy. So I added a hole. #fb


62 x 17 x 1.5 cm
I bought this in the flea market section of the Bethesda Farmer's Market in the late 80's. It is a Stacey Peralta model G&S, circa 1977, perfect condition. It came with Bowl Roll wheels and Gullwing trucks. It cost me $20, and would probably be worth fifteen-times that if I had kept it in the condition I purchased it. But I didn't keep it it the condition I purchased it in; I skated it into the ground. #fb


46 x 16 x 8.9 cm
I made this piece of art called 'Portable'. Eventually I dissected it for parts. The top half actually sold in Miami. This is the original bottom half, which, although it has a wheel, proved rather un-portable. #fb


4.5 x 6.8 x 2.2 cm
This looks like a passport lithograph. I'm certain they didn't go to such lengths, but that sounds wicked handsome.


9 x 7.5 x .1 cm
In 2006, the National Basketball Association passed what they called the 'Zero Tolerance Policy', which states that once a player is called for a foul, if he protests in a manner deemed too animated by the officiating staff, he can receive a technical foul or be ejected. 
Rasheed Wallace, a celebrated recipient of the technical foul, responded by saying: 'In my mind, it's kind of like a slave and master'.
So a couple days after he says this, I'm in Portland and I go to a Trailblazers game with my wife and her dad. Rasheed is a Trailblazer, and even though he is on the home team, the whole arena erupts in a chorus of boos every time he touches the ball. 
Late in the game, Rasheed is fouled and sent to the line for two free throws.
Suddenly, the arena breaks out in wild applause. I'm confused. There are but seconds left in the game, and the Trailblazers are up by 10 points, 99 - 89. What gives?
Turns out, if the Blazers score 100 points in a win, everyone gets a free chalupa from Taco Bell. 'Sheed nails one of free throws and we all get free food.
Apparently, all it takes to forgive an insulting and egregious overstatement by a man payed millions and millions of dollars to play a game is a chalupa
A fucking chalupa.


20 x 25 x 1 cm (folded)
When pineapples are packaged, they are separated by these thick sheets of paper. I used one of these as the base for the collage book / album cover I made for Louque in the late 90's. Then we had the idea of making a run of handmade album covers inspired by the collage book / album cover, so I went collecting these things. They are actually kind of hard to find; pineapples aren't always in season. Also, the dudes who unpack them usually don't speak a lot of English and really don't want to talk much.


1.5 x 8 x 1.2 cm
Detached doll parts are always creepy. Always.


6 x 10 x .1 cm
The night before my grandmother's funeral, I went bowling with my cousin Chris and his wife Hannah. We were in Rochester, New York, Olive Irene 'Bunny' Johanek's home town, where she was to be laid to rest after almost 95 years on this earth.
Chris ordered a round of brandy alexanders, a rather disgusting drink, but Bunny's favorite. As I remember, he raised his demure beverage by its delicate glass handle and said "To Gommy" (that's what we called her), and then immediately bowled a strike. He may have even still had the little glass in his hand.
I know this is not how the events transpired, not exactly. Close enough: Olive did live; we did bowl; we did drink weird brandy drinks; Olive did die. This is her funeral card.


23 x 22 x 3 cm 
My sophomore year of college, a mini-van full of my friends from Maryland came up to visit me at RISD. We went to Boston, spent the day walking around, perhaps my favorite past time of late-adolescence. Kacy and I discovered these hats. They say 'PENIS' on them: HILARIOUS.
We were nineteen. We bought them. We wore them together. We were willful dickheads.


9.8 x 9.8 cm
I have a great sister named Kate. She and I helped raise each other. Once, there was this sweater... never mind. Hi Kate.


24.7 x 7.2 x 2.5 cm
When I was riding my bike through Europe in 1995, it dawned on me that I had neglected to bring sandpaper. Sandpaper is a tremendously necessary sketchbook making tool. So I went out and bought some. When I travelled to Indonesia, I bought some there, too. Then I bought some in Hong Kong, Guam, Louisiana, places like that. Eventually, I had a nice little collection, so I put it in this box, labeled it. Such is life.


37 x 16 x 2 cm
I found this piece of an oar on my honeymoon in Croatia. My wife and I were there in 2005. I brought it home and eventually used it as a prop in an animation about the process of sight (hence the brain image). When Oliver moved to the states and we shared a studio, I screen printed 'OAR' on it, which was the name of the collective he, his brother Rory, Duke and I operated under in some of our art project endeavors. 
So there it is. That's what this thing is and why it looks like it does.


11 x 10 x .1 cm
This was my mother's. Her name is Martha. When I was a kid, friends called her Merth, and that's what my two daughter's now call her. I think 'Marty' was a short lived 5th grade experiment. I call her 'mom'.


12 x 12 x .2 cm
I was in an airport in Guam in 1997. Wait, let me change that: I was in the airport in Guam in 1997, on my way back from visiting Hong Kong and Indonesia. Somewhere in there I crossed the international dateline. I was on my second Tuesday of the week and pretty wrecked. 
I met this man Paul in the airport lounge as I waited to depart that birdless island. Really, Guam has no birds. Look it up.
Paul asked me how I enjoyed my stay on his island. I told him I had been there only 30 hours or so, and didn't really see a whole hell-of-a-lot. He espoused it's virtues, talked of waterfalls and good golfing. Paul told me that when I returned to Guam, I should call him; he'd show me around properly. 
I'm not certain why I kept this napkin. I have absolutely no plans of returning to Guam.


13 x 13 x 5 cm
I am a Yankees fan. I have been as long as I can remember. It is an internal struggle. As a child, they represented everything that made baseball magic. Through the lens of adulthood, the patina of history betrays a system with less integrity. 
Perhaps it is just part of growing up, but one day it suddenly dawned on me that millionaire Derek Jeter wasn't standing in the corner of my studio chanting "CO-LAGE, CO-LAGE, CO-LAGE".


3.0 x 10.0 x .2 cm
Is electricity yellow or blue?
That was the question that set off a chain of events that made an indelible mark on my new found free adulthood.
I was in a bar with Noah, it was 1997. We came upon the topic of what color electricity is. I said it was yellow, of course. Noah claimed blue. I'm not certain how the wager came about, but somehow we decided to ask the waitress, and if she said 'yellow', we would rent a car and go to Atlantic City right then and there.
She said 'yellow'.


5 x 10 x .1 cm
This was the last sporting event Darryl and I attended together. We drove down to DC, watched the Redskins lose then  stayed at Chung's house after the game. He didn't have the right cords to plug our Playstation into his TV, so we just went to bed. 


21 x 14 x.1 cm
In 1992, my friend Navid was murdered. A couple years later I wrote, directed and acted in a play about it called "One & Is".  This is the program. It was a search for answers, and didn't really have enough questions in it. I wasn't in the mood. I was 20. I needed some fucking answers.


5 x 2.5 x 1.5 cm
My wife performed a play in Gloucester, Mass in 2000. It was right after 'The Perfect Storm' was filmed up there, so every single establishment was hawking themed wares.
Daryl and I found these in a toy section of some gift store. Amidst the perfect storm of 
Cloney-esque drink specials and Whalbergian t-shirts, there sat the creepiest little humanoid forms either one of us had ever seen. 


15.3 x 4.5 x 8 cm
Lois used to live next door. She had lived there her whole life, as had her parents, as had her grandparents. Lois was a hoarder. This was her father's. It represents perhaps one-tenth-of-one percent of the old tools arranged like a drunken Tetris game strewn about her basement.


5 x 14 x .1 cm
My brother-in-law Court is from Pennsylvania. He's a Phillies fan. In 2006, Court and his wife (my sister Kate), me and my wife drove down to Philly and enjoyed a day at the park. A year later the cavalcade of child bearing began. These days, the concept of our families enjoying a day at the park involves less baseball and beer, but definitely more accidents involving urine.


9 x 7 x.1 cm
Upon completion of what I considered to be a successful prank involving two similar sweatshirts, I arrogantly left a note for the "victim", one Peter Jeffers. Peter didn't finish high school, was never much for the books, isn't really an avid historian. As I found out after he had left town, you can also add 'sucker' to the list of things he ain't. 


21 x 12 x .1 cm
I had been visiting my father in California, and my mom picked me up at National Airport  in Washington DC carrying an envelope under her arm. It was a thick one, and full page size. But the true giveaway was the smile on her face.


7 x 10 x .1 cm
Chris Hoover was the best skater of all our friends. Once he broke his wrist so badly he had to have pins put in it and was in a cast for a couple months. So he skated in a cast. When we all left for college, Chris set up a fully fledged screen-printing business. While we were learning about art, Chris was making things, running a company. He called it Pure Funktion.
Since then, Chris has had his fair share of broken wrists, metaphorically speaking. Just as that initial fracture was self-induced, so have been his other breaks, and Hoover would be the first to admit that. But he has never failed to get back on the board, and he has never failed to be a fucking hell of human. 


1.7 in diameter x 7 cm
Both of my grandfathers were in the Knights of Columbus, a fraternal Catholic organization. This very tiny pin is what you get if you are in the Knights of Columbus for twenty-five years. Well, you also get all the benefits of being a white dude, most likely. Whatever benefits there are to being Catholic I'll leave as TBD.


8 x 3.9 cm
I walked into a workwear store in Providence, Rhode Island about 8 years ago. This one had recently half burnt down. There was no electricity and half the inventory was mildewing in the corner, an unfortunate side effect of the the fireman's valiant efforts. The proprietor was wearing a rain jacket inside, hanging out, hoping to salvage a buck or two from what was left. I bought this patch. I thought it was funny.
If this makes no sense to you, you have never been to Providence, Rhode Island.


6.3 x 9 cm
God bless you Cliff Harris. You have a mustache and you are unashamed that you are bald at 34. You'd look like my dad if my dad looked like a dad from the seventies. 


9.0 cm diameter x 14.4 cm
This was my mom's. Somehow it became mine. For about a decade I used it as a storage unit for a multitude of beads that at one point constituted a necklace, a love letter from a girl in the form a daguerreotype and lewd cartoons drawn by Nick Aanthon in the 7th grade.  


66 x 39 x .3cm
Ah, the Red Hand of Ulster. I kind of don't even know where to begin with my close, personal relationship to this contentious symbol. So I won't. I'll just say that my love of conflict extends to the degree that I will collect its representation in tea towel form.


28 x 21 x .1 cm
My father took me to meet 'Sweet' Lou Piniella sometime in the mid-80's. We were at a hotel convention room on some turnpike in Jersey. It was like 11am and Lou was literally purple with hangover. I asked him:  when he first heard people chanting 'LOOOOOOUU', as was custom when he made a plate appearance, did he in fact think they were saying 'BOOOOOOOOO'?
Sweet Lou grunted, probably threw up in his mouth a little, and slid this 8x10 glossy my way. I had met a hero.


28 x 21 x .1cm
When I was a senior in high school, we were told to stop by a certain folding table set up in some hallway and fill out the necessary forms for our diplomas. I had assumed that all the necessary information was held on some microfiche somewhere. In the absence of this definitive information system, I saw an opportunity: while using my given and formal first name to communicate a sense of validity, I substituted my middle name with 'Pickle'. It was pure 18-year old genius, and it worked.
This is not my diploma (which does in fact bear the name 'Michael Pickle Premo'. This is a Junior ROTC Certificate of Completion that was actually issued to my oldest friend in the world, Kacy. He forged it over to me, as a gift. I consider this document a higher honor than my actual high school diploma.


6.3 x 9 cm
Bob Scheffing: manager from Detroit, or heralded member of the French Foreign Legion?


21.5 x  27.5 x .1cm
There are a few inside jokes at play here, admittedly. Having said that,  I really think that given a distorted photocopy of Sean Combs claiming his status of "great enjoyer" of a particularly phonetically amusing Chinese dish, one should be able to create his own joke with relatively little effort.


16 x 30 x 10 cm
The parts cut out of this pulley, the other half of the metal wheel cover and the wheel itself, were used in a piece of art. I never got rid of the leftover pulley because:
a. It is awesome looking.
b. have you ever cut hardened steel with a hacksaw? It is a son-of-a-bitch.


4.5 cm diameter
My father-in-law gave this to me. He was a communist. As my wife tells it, she was born so as to continue his bloodline before he died in the inevitable revolution. 
In 1973, he traveled to China to find inspiration. He brought back, among other affects ideas, and realizations, this pin.
Pretty well made, I mean, for something made in China.


11.2 cm circumference 
Aaron gave me this. It is a machine designed to sharpen razor blades.  It is predicated on the idea that one keeps and reuses things, like, at all.  Needless to say, it is obsolete.


22 x 22 x 1cm
As the twentieth century entered its eightieth year or so, the rolodex gave way to a miraculous invention: using merely a wall (usually the one adjacent to the phone bearing wall), one's entire black book could be laid out in front of him on little yellow pieces of paper that actually came with adhesive already on them.
This here pile contains all the numbers that mattered to me whilst in high school.


66 x 43 x 1cm
I bought this jersey at Unique, an enormous second hand clothing store that was on Broadway south of Houston before non-big-box business models become untenable in the area. Though I tried to alter it a couple times, I could never get it to fit properly. It was clearly made for someone a good deal wider than I.
Initially I was attracted to this jersey for its absurd faux-patriotism. I imagined it to be 1990: a mediocre junior-varsity basketball squad decides to shine in the reflective glory of our military's most recent technological advancement. But what I really love is that the team is in the singular, as if this pudgy collection of 50% free-throw shooters acted not as a collection of disparate missiles, but in true team spirit, as a single Patriot Missile.


14.5 x 17.5 cm
There is a war going on, people. It is about more than those wit or witout; it is about more than what side of the street you stand on; it is about meat. Meat with cheese on it. 


10.0 x 6.3 x 2.8 cm
I don't know for certain what is on this tape. I am pretty certain that it is a montage I made when I was a freshman in college, kind of my first foray into film / video. I am pretty certain it depicts a Providence, Rhode Island before its mid-nineties Renaissance, a Providence where the canals were actually shitty and an old man could still buy a decent sweater. I am pretty certain I am on this tape, or at least my image; I am young and unaware as hell and look it and I am pretty certain that is fantastic.
When I put this tape in the Dumpster, I screwed through it and attached it to wood with resin. I am pretty certain it can no longer be viewed.
I am positive it is better in my memory than it would have been on any monitor.


17 x 7 cm
I did not know Anna Romano, the issuer of these checks. I got them at a flea market that used to be in SoHo before SoHo became the kind of place where any and all available spaces mandated a continuous monetization stream. What I do know about Anna Romano is gleaned from these checks: she lived on 14th street; she seemed to be able to pay all her bills amidst the onset of the Great Depression; she had impeccable handwriting. 


20 x 14 x .2cm
I grew up going to "The Stadium", meaning Yankee Stadium. I was there with my dad when George Brett flipped his burger over pine tar; I was there when Leyritz hit his home run in '95; and I was there when Tino and Jeter staged one of the most exciting comebacks in World Series History. All this is to say that when the new Stadium opened up, I was ready to dismiss it as lacking the authenticity, the history of the old Stadium.
Truth be told, it is a magnificent place to see a ball game. Everything was wonderful.
Everything except , of course, Alex Rodriquez' performance in the clutch. Two K's down the stretch in moments that mattered, and my first experience at the new Stadium is tarnished by some new-school glorified gladiator whose ability to stat pad when it doesn't matter will create a trillion dollar path to the hall of fame.
I guess its a new game. Looks and feels a lot like the old one, just a lot more shiny.