A disposable coffee cup collection 1991 – 2015

 

I'm an artist, and a collector. Which makes some sense, for some artists in theory make things that people collect. With me its also a family thing. My parents and brother were artists – my father and brother both collectors – in fact, dad was an antique dealer by vocation. So in some ways this was a habit I was fated to. But in my artistic smart ass way I chose to collect something arbitrary and ephemeral. Something in which it's disposability created an eventual scarcity wrapped in nostalgia and sentiment, albeit a timely and generational one.

To put it another way, it was my reaction to my family habits. A kind of joke to and on Dad.

 

The collection started a long time ago in the Bronx at a Cuchifritos in the early 90's. The Cuchifritos, Molino Rojo, is still located on 161st St. On my way to work in the morning I would get a cafe con leche – always careful to stress “not too much sugar!” – otherwise they put in so much sugar my teeth would dance. Occasionally I'd also have lunch there. Rice and beans, mofungo and fried plantains were wonderful - though not great if you had to really work the rest of the afternoon.

 

I began to notice my morning coffee to-go always came in different paper cups. They never had the name of the Cuchifritos on them, instead it was always some obscure eatery or institution. I never knew what sort of cup I'd get. I assumed they were saving money and the cups were cheap runoffs or unsold overstocked cups. The randomness of the graphics always amused me (sometimes they were odd misprints).

 

So, this eventually led to me saving them on my desk at work. The collection began - and grew. I got obsessive. Anywhere I traveled I would find specimens to bring home. I developed a loose set of procedures for collecting cups: Firstly, they were cups I drank from. Later, friends would bring me some - but just a few. In order to prevent them from getting crushed I'd carry a large plastic yogurt container in my backpack. And usually, to keep things clean and dry I'd put a napkin in the cup (there always seemed to be a drop of coffee left). At home I would rinse them out.

I amassed rows and rows of cups in my studio. Eventually, many got nested and stacked into each other, forming paper cup towers. And in a concession to the preciousness of collecting they came to live in blue cardboard archival boxes.

 

In 1997 I installed a part of this collection in a group sculpture exhibit at James Graham & Sons Gallery. High up on a long shelf - where the wall and ceiling met - the cups sat side by side forming a kind of frieze. Well, as I remember, it was one of my first art review snubs. Not mentioning my name, the New York Times said “- never mind the cups”. I always liked them, and most people did, too. Over the past few years my collecting slowed to a stop. After threatening for years to “do” something with these cups – here they are. I will attempt to add captions and a very informal commentary with these cups, but, there are about 580  images, so it will take time.

 

Good graphics, bad graphics: restaurants, airlines, business's still in existence and many gone. Herein they remain to be seen.

 

Cheers

- Joel Holub, Berlin, October 2020