Turning trash into art is like meditation.
THE ART OF MARITA DINGUS BY STACY LAWSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 34
In 1988 I purchased a necklace from my friend Jacqui’s boutique, Jordan, on Fifth and Pine Street in downtown Seattle. It was one of the few things in the shop that I could afford. Fifty dollars was a good part of my weekly budget then. I fell for this homely piece–a loose-limbed female figure made of wire, beads, and scrap fabric with skinny plexi-glass arms and legs that dangled from its body. The pendant hung on a chain of leather cord and odd-metal links. I loved the way it moved as I walked, clacking softly like a small wind chime. I loved its expression of surprise drawn in ballpoint. Unfortunately, I lost it before I understood that it was more than just a quirky necklace made of junk. It was a Marita Dingus original. It was the start of my love affair with an artist, her work, her process, her philosophy, and her drive to speak about difficult subjects in a medium other than words.