Anachronism

When I was in culinary school, I make every effort to live beneath my means. It took a few months for me to find work after I got there, and I developed an aversion to spending money. I made frequent visits to the dumpsters out behind the dorm buildings, and made a comfortable living on what the college was willing to refuse.

 

I found a rolling desk chair with a broken handle easily repaired with masking tape.

 

I found an old wooden bench similar to the ones in the common showers with no visible issues except for some scratches and graffiti. The bench would go on to act as a sort of end-table for the dorm, catching keys and papers that were dropped off at the door.

 

I found a flat-screen computer monitor with a stubborn power button.
 

I found an empty metal first-aid kit that would go on to house my pens and pencils.

 

Some of the items needed repair, and I found some to be beyond my help. I approached all my finds with a chapter-like mindset: if I started the day without a bookshelf, I wouldn't get upset if the bookshelf I found needed to be returned to the trash. I tried not to let my corner of the room get too cluttered, but it wasn't uncommon for my roommates to return and find my floor littered with screws and shattered plastic bits from a television mid-reassembly.

 

On my way back from class, I saw a flyer for an art auction to benefit the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Students could donate something they'd made, with all the proceeds from the bids going to the organization. I wanted to contribute something large and impressive, something that would fetch a good price. I was a few months away from running out of money and dropping out. The auction was to be that night. I didn't own any paints or supplies and I was in no position to go out and buy some.
 

I once again consulted the dumpster, and amassed a bundle of discarded particle board to serve as candidates for canvases. I was returning to my dorm when I found it: Giant, round, caked in dust and grime. It was sitting out behind the dorm building, yards away from the dumpster, in a pile of bent and broken metal. I made the short trip to the dumpster to deposit my salvaged wooden sheets and focused all my attention on getting this large glass tabletop up to my room on the fourth floor.

 

The first challenge was cleaning it. The restrooms on my floor were equipped with hot-air hand dryers. I had to stop a passing janitor to borrow a length of paper towels. I had the vague idea of making it into a clock face, and for a moment I played with the idea of finding a hobby store and buying a proper quartz movement for it. But first it would need a design. Rubbing the last of the dirt off, I rummaged through my first aid kit and pulled out a thick black sharpie.

 

I don't know how long I lay there on the floor with that tabletop, slowly painting it like a clock. Everything was done in reverse, so the ink could be protected by the thick glass in the front. As I drew I tried to imagine when else in history someone would feel compelled to take a discarded table and a permanent marker and make the face of a timepiece. I imagined a civilization rebuilding after some tragedy, some post-apocalyptic world. A town composed of wreckage, built by craftsmen whose only resources were the rubble of a by-gone era. They might have a clock tower, and that clock tower might need a face. I must have been on that floor for hours, sketching patterns and dials and picturing a time during which this clock face would exist. It didn't belong here. It was an anachronism.

 

When it was finished, I leaned it up against the wall and snapped a picture. I rolled it down to the elevator and brought it to the commons room that was that night serving as an auction house. The organizers seemed impressed, if not with the design than with the sheer size of the piece. A multitude of canvases and sculptures were arranged on the table on stage. I brought the clock face up and leaned it against the table. Before the night was over, it sold for $100.

 

Sorry for the long post, I just really enjoyed making this thing, and I feel like the situations that made it possible might be interesting for some. I can't explain why, but this clock face and the events leading up to it are some of the fondest memories I have of that college.

 

Here's the picture.