Jason Botkin
Painted waste containers in black and gold lettering stand on a paved pad beside a grassy residential block.
Painted waste containers in black and gold lettering stand on a paved pad beside a grassy residential block.

Projects

What We Hold

What We Hold

What We Hold

A Culture of Care

A Culture of Care

A Culture of Care

2024 · Laon, France

In collaboration with He(ART)4ALL

At the municipal waste collection sites in Laon, rubbish was regularly left beside the containers, rather than inside. Bags split, spilling their often foul contents on surfaces that had become unpleasant to approach or touch.

Each person arriving encountered what others had left behind.

Their condition raised a question: would painting them help people feel differently about something they shared?

Clothes and bags spill onto the pavement beside a pair of collection bins.
Clothes and bags spill onto the pavement beside a pair of collection bins.
Clothes and bags spill onto the pavement beside a pair of collection bins.

The invitation arrived at the last minute, immediately after La Geste et la Pierre. I was already in town for the festival, and the possibility arose of extending that work into another part of everyday public life.

A flexible schedule allowed me to change my departure from France and stay.

Working with He(ART)4ALL, I brought hand-painted poetry onto the containers. I love inviting people to contribute words themselves – a phrase, a name, a few lines — someone could help shape the work without ever picking up a brush.

A group of men talk on a street corner outside an apartment building.
A group of men talk on a street corner outside an apartment building.
A group of men talk on a street corner outside an apartment building.

I chose words over illustration for how they ask us to pay attention.

An image offers immediate impressions, where a sentence unfolds in sequence. When a line wraps around a three-dimensional structure, reading it requires movement: you begin on one side, then around to trace the thought.

A small commitment of curiosity.

A waste container wrapped in gold hand lettering, “On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur” running along its top.
A waste container wrapped in gold hand lettering, “On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur” running along its top.
A waste container wrapped in gold hand lettering, “On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur” running along its top.

Words from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince offered one way into that conversation:

On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur.
L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

“It is only with the heart that one sees clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eyes.”

And:

Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé.

“You become forever responsible for what you have tamed.”

Those familiar words about attention and responsibility acquired a very practical neighbour: the next bag of rubbish, and the person who would arrive after you.

A paint-flecked hand traces gold lettering on a black container.
A paint-flecked hand traces gold lettering on a black container.
A paint-flecked hand traces gold lettering on a black container.

First, we had to make the paint stay on.

The containers had existing coatings that were already peeling in places. Even after thorough cleaning, it took experimentation to understand what would stick.

Rain arrived every other day. I was lettering with One Shot, an oil-based enamel, and the damp conditions complicated an already uncertain surface.

At one site, I completed all four containers before discovering that the paint had failed to bond. We had to strip the work off and begin again.

At that site and a couple of others, I carefully masked and recoated the surfaces with a spray paint that adhered well, then returned to the lettering in enamel.

There was considerable learning beneath those apparently simple painted words.

A man in a cap sits on a painted container beside a smiling boy in a green T-shirt.
A man in a cap sits on a painted container beside a smiling boy in a green T-shirt.
A man in a cap sits on a painted container beside a smiling boy in a green T-shirt.

People often stopped to talk while I worked.

Many were frustrated with the condition of the sites. Some doubted that poetry or a painted surface could affect how they were treated. Others spoke of a shared responsibility they remembered and felt was slipping away.

Their scepticism belonged in the conversation. They lived with these places every day.

I couldn’t promise a change in anyone’s habits. But a cared-for place offers a small, tangible assurance: someone has considered the people who use it.

A container lettered “La beauté vit là où le soin persiste”, crossed feet resting on the pad beside it.
A container lettered “La beauté vit là où le soin persiste”, crossed feet resting on the pad beside it.
A container lettered “La beauté vit là où le soin persiste”, crossed feet resting on the pad beside it.

I prepared material to share the experiment as it unfolded: what we were trying, what residents were saying, and how people could become involved.

We did not develop that public invitation as fully as I had hoped. Everyone was coming out of an intense festival. Weather and technical problems stretched production, and the organizing team was carrying its own workload. Some things fell between us.

We needed more time to agree on what we expected from the experiment and who would carry the conversation forward after I left.

A paint can and brush rest on the metal pad at the foot of a lettered container.
A paint can and brush rest on the metal pad at the foot of a lettered container.
A paint can and brush rest on the metal pad at the foot of a lettered container.

I loved this experiment. I found the painted containers beautiful.

Whether they encouraged lasting changes in behaviour remains an open question. That would take follow-up with the people using and maintaining the sites.

What still excites me is the simple possibility at its centre: someone offers a few words and later finds them painted into a place they use every day.



I would like to see what happens when that invitation has time to take root.

© Jason Botkin

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