Monthly Statement:
June 2006

*I will continue collecting soap indefinitely after the official ending of this project in September. If you are interested in contributing soap or stories to my continued efforts, please email jillgreenberg27@hotmail.com or mail slivers to the address at the bottom of this text.

I. A World of History in Every Bar
Among June’s pleasures were contributions from 3 people that added a historical dimension to the project’s rambling course. Joan Schumacher of Chalfont, PA wrote:
“As a child of the ‘30s and the Depression, I was intrigued with your project to save old soap scraps.….I well remember we used to put the slivers in a steel mesh container to shake in the water to make suds for dish washing. (It was not very effective.) We never wasted anything, even soap scraps.”

She enclosed a handful of interesting soaps, one of which was so distinctively chunky and creased and visceral looking that I nicknamed it “The Brain.” Another green glycerin soap had a whitish crystalline-looking substance on its surface and I wondered if it was some form of mold. I avoid handling it, and keep it quarantined from the others, though I like the way it looks.

Yvonne Webster of West Chester, PA reflected on her childhood in post WWll Germany, when her mother would get tallow and lye from the butcher and share the soap she made from it with him. She has a fascination with remnants of things and reflected with regret how “...quilting in its original form used remnants and now it has become an industry of pre-cut patches.” Of the soap remnants she collects, she wrote:

“…I boil them and mold them together, shape them, wrap them in clothes remnants and give them to friends as a joke to prove to them how frugal I am. I have never been told what happens to those gifts.”

She also mentioned a story she had heard years ago about a woman from Turkey or Italy who survived after an earthquake by eating soaps she had collected from her travels. Hmmm…truth or urban legend—you make the call!

My friend Scott Kelly of Baltimore, MD shared a bit of recent American history with me when he returned from a visit with his parents in Texas bearing a bag chock full of interesting soaps, both used and fresh, that his mother had saved. One of these had an aged decal of an American flag on it. Scott explained:

“My father was on the flight crew of Air Force One, he was the Flight Engineer from Presidents Johnson through Carter. The flag piece was from an Air Force One "hand out" -- it was actually on a packet of cigarettes that guests on the plane received.”
Apparently his mother cut the image from the cigarette pack and decoupaged it to the surface of the soap. Though I do not use soaps with decoupaged images or recognizable objects embedded in them for this project because they become too much of a focus, (see statement 4/06) I may use this segregated group of more distinctive soaps in a separate piece.

Another interesting email came to me from Paula Miller of Chevy Chase, MD. She recalled years ago emptying the house of her deceased aunt, a hoarder who “couldn’t bear to throw anything out (including trash).” Paula reported finding shelves loaded with hotel soaps and toiletries, which her aunt accumulated in her travels, and had obsessively marked with the date of the trip. Paula donated these to a homeless shelter. Of this experience, she concluded that she has learned to “appreciate any and every opportunity to rid (herself) of excess possessions, even such humble possessions as used bits of soap.” Since this project began I have been amazed and touched by the kindness of people—absolute strangers—who have taken the time to share not only their soap, but also their stories with me. This is such a gift.

II Letter to My Doppelganger
The other major event in June was that I FINALLY got around to writing a letter introducing myself to Doppelganger Jill, the commercial and fine art photographer of rising acclaim who shares the name Jill Greenberg with me and whose persona has become integral to the narrative of this project (for the uncanny details, click on monthly statement 1/06). I wrote a two-page letter, addressing her in a casual, friendly tone. I explained that I have worked as a photojournalist/artist over the past 15 years, and have often been confused with her. Since the Accumulation Project has increased my visibility on the Internet, and I post my email address, whereas she does not, I have received a fair number of emails intended for her. The first of these was from, Kristy, Jill’s former best friend from High School, who had betrayed their friendship in a reprehensible incident, and was seeking an opportunity to apologize after 20 years. I made it clear to Doppelganger Jill that I was not trying to broker a tearful reconciliation between them, but was merely passing along a message. Nonetheless, I had an ulterior motive: I mentioned that I had recently been interviewed about my experience as a soap sliver accumulator by a Brooklyn duo named Arianne Gelardin and Agnes Bolt for a podcast they were piloting that will be similar in format to the National Public Radio program “This American Life,” but with art-inspired content. They were fascinated with the uncanny connection between Doppelganger Jill and myself, and wanted to interview her, so this letter was meant to pave the way for their request. I doubted that she would participate, because for some time she had been in the public spotlight concerning the ethics she employed to produce a controversial series of studio photographs of crying toddlers. (To make them cry, she gave them a lollipop and then took it away.) The photos had garnered enormous critical acclaim, while enraging a plague of bloggers who considered her practice child abuse. At any rate, I doubted she would want to confuse the issue by appearing in a podcast about multiple Jill Greenbergs, and besides I assumed she was leading a busy life. Still, I hoped she would respond with a friendly nod of acknowledgement and find amusement, if not fascination with the strange series of coincidences linking us together (see statement 1/06.) Plus, my letter made it clear that I appreciated the expressive quality of her work, and sided with her in the controversy it generated. So I posted the letter and awaited a reply.

III Blogorelli
Meanwhile, June 10 was the final day my soap sliver work in progress would be on display at a gallery in Baltimore, and I had been trying for weeks to drum up some publicity for it on the home front, since the articles in the Washington Post and the Philadelphia Inquirer had produced a glut of donated soap slivers. To increase the chance of attracting the media, I teamed up with fellow Accumulation Project participant Irene Chan, who lives and works in the DC/Baltimore region and was nurturing a growing collection of bar codes, which she had bound into a book. I sent multiple press releases and made several follow-up calls to the Baltimore Sun, the City Paper, and the Examiner to no avail. Maybe all the local art critics were busy extolling photographs of crying babies that month!

Though the Baltimore newspapers ignored my soap sliver extravaganza in May and June, my deflated ego got a much-needed stroke from my chance discovery in early June that my soap sliver accumulation had been the subject of a blog entry in “Blogorelli Unisex Salon of Popular Culture.” The Blogmistress, whose last name, I believe is Gorelli, goes by the tag of Pack Rat-orelli. She was amused by the article in the Philadelphia Inquirer, and was kind enough to include links to it and to the Accumulation Project Website. She introduced the entry as follows:

“Rarely do I come across someone who requests that people help her amass a collection of more useless objects than I have in my trunk right now...but Philadelphia artist Jill Greenberg has one-upped me.”

For the complete entry, see: http://blogorelli.typepad.com/b_l_o_g_o_r_e_l_l_i/2006/05/dear_mom_camps_.html
Discovering that my work was the topic of conversation among a group of people unknown to me was both exciting and unnerving. I felt like I was spying on strangers at a party, discussing me behind my back. What was particularly interesting about Pack Rat-orelli’s commentary was her reference to Sheldon Goldthwait of Bar Harbor Maine, who, way back in December, had contributed 11 pounds of half-used bars of Irish Spring he had found in 1996 among the possessions of his deceased mother, Ruth. Pack Rat-orelli referred to Mr. Goldthwait as the stepfather of a contributor to her blog called “Half Pint.” In my response to her posting, I asked her about her connection to Sheldon Goldthwait. I never heard back from her, and got the feeling that her blog is really meant as a forum for the insiders in her life—that I sorta crashed the party—but I think I’ll try again. Though the blog entry has not generated any soap sliver donations to date, I appreciate Pack Rat-orelli’s sense of humor, and the fact that she took the care to show the picture and link her posting to the actual article in The Philadelphia Inquirer.

IV Further Attempts
As the project entered its final months, I was considering new ways to attract sliver contributors. I was thinking of scattering my “Soap Proselytizing Cards” (see statement 2/06), requesting soap slivers on the tables of coffeehouses and in random places people might find them. I never really followed through on this, but one Saturday around midnight I was leaving my studio and passed the Library of Progress, a music, arts, and culture venue with a typically Baltimorean grass roots feel, where an aids benefit party was in full swing. Everybody was in costume, the DJ made an announcement about the project, and I scattered a few cards left over from my show about the room. I remember that a girl in a cow costume and her partner responded enthusiastically, but I never saw any soap as a result of that foray.
It seems that my core donor demographic group is women between 30 and 85. But there are exceptions: In May, I recruited assistance from the guys of Ready Willing and Able, the Doe Fund’s residential work training program for formerly homeless men in Philadelphia (see monthly statements 11/05 and 5/06.) According to Case Manager Miriam Ackerman, the guys were starting to return the soap slivers from the abundant supply of hotel soaps I had left there in May. She reported that they were excited about attending the opening of my next show of the work in progress, which would be at the Bebe Benoliel Gallery on Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia.
And in June, my uncle had scored a real coup during one of his numerous trips abroad; he came up with hotel soap that was something other than white! It was pale yellow and had some snooty au naturelle ingredient like seaweed extract in it. He sent me, maybe 40-50 bars, which I hope he asked for, rather than just lifting them from the maid’s cart or the supply closet, but I was afraid to ask. So that means more soap for the guys at Ready Willing and Able.

The success Miriam Ackerman was reporting in reclaiming the slivers from the residents of the Ready Willing and Able program gave me the impetus to try something similar back home in Baltimore. The Sylvan Beach Foundation is a small but remarkable residential program for disadvantaged young adults. They live, community style, above an ice cream café and homemade ice cream factory, which the organization owns and runs. The fellas make the ice cream, (and these guys know what they’re doing,) serve the public, learn how to run a business, and receive academic instruction. I met with the handful of them one evening, described my mission and distributed hotel soap. Unfortunately, I never got any slivers back from them, but I have to admit, I did not follow up on the initial meeting in any organized way. I have no hard feelings—they’re great guys, but not everybody cares to be a sliver saver.

June’s contributor/collaborators include: Leah Ziskin of Cherry Hill, NJ; Joan Schumacher of Chalfont, PA; Laura Jansen of Wayne, PA; Heidi Leyh of Collingswood, NJ; T White of Philadelphia, PA; Yvonne Webster of West Chester, PA; Scott Kelly of Baltimore, MD; Paula Miller of Chevy Chase, MD; Marge and Orson Kelly of TX.

To contribute soap, you may mail it to:
Jill Greenberg
1440 E. Baltimore St. Apt. 3A
Baltimore, MD 21231

Padding or a small box is suggested for thin or delicate slivers.
Many thanks,
Jill

Feel free to email me at jillgreenberg27@hotmail.com if you wish to contribute soap slivers to the project or to send a comment.

Washington Post article available here.

Process: I will be accumulating remnants of used bars of soap by soliciting contributions through networks of friends and acquaintances. I am also looking into receiving donations through local hotels and collection boxes set up in various locales.