I’ve always been enamored with the mundane and everyday elements of life. There is something so raw, real, intimate, human about the unintentional marks we leave on our environment. Last year, while living in Squirrel Hill, I would walk by a USPS blue collection box on Beeler Street on the days I couldn’t catch my typical bus line. The reasons varied, but it was never a walk I took by choice or with enthusiasm. Often, I found myself alone, walking down a cracked and weathered sidewalk as the rain drizzled and the leaves muddled with the runoff flowing down the steep slopes of neighbors’ houses. On this route, there stood a lone, rusted, chipped, and absolutely-not-blue, USPS collection box. I was initially drawn to the box on a day similar to one just described. The collection box seemed to blend into its dreary grey environment like it was camouflaged. Despite its age, there were never any stickers or graffiti on the box; its only adornment is the worn orange tag on the side of the box. This observation felt jarring– USPS blue collection boxes are usually rotating displays of new tags, slap-ons, posters, flyers, stickers. It felt abandoned on a street so bustling with energy and life. I never saw anyone use the box either, so I remained wondering. Did anyone interact with this mailbox? As an artist, this lack of community interaction with the box in any format felt intentional. Its weathered appearance raises the question of “was it ever blue?”. It's odd how a once bold stand-out feature of our built environment could devolve to a decaying feature blending into its natural environment. The box always felt like a wallflower, and I was the only one who ever acknowledged its presence. 

I find myself drawn to USPS blue collection boxes because they act as a community hub. While the intended purpose of these boxes is to mail letters or postcards, it is also a place of creative expression of thoughts and imagery. When walking through the neighborhood of Oakland, where I live now, I see bright blue, rather pristine, collection boxes covered in stickers, messages, graffiti, and missing pet posters. No matter where they are located, all of these collection boxes are constantly adapting and changing in relation to the people around them. Every mark is purposeful, every mark is a testament to the human spirit. We crave connection and interaction with our environment. Whether this interaction is mailing your mother on the other side of the state a birthday card, or writing “LOVE THY NEIGHBOR,” on the box in bold letters it all has the same purpose. The contrast in its intended use and the social function it exhibits in its community is fascinating: it allows for communication in the local and the global. These public fixtures are not owned by any one person and as a result, they may be considered a mundane object to the average observer. They exist, but not beyond the realm of that fleeting moment you pass it on the street. It is not a desired object, not something someone wishes to possess individually. I find this to be a rare feature in the modern world, as almost everything is attainable with money. 

USPS blue collection boxes are a community staple. Even if someone were to purchase a retired USPS blue collection box, its allure and social function would be negated. They rely on the people around them to function and the environment to welcome them. The box I am most familiar with has aged drastically, bearing witness to children growing up and new generations being born. It still functions as a mail receptacle, while also wearing the stains of time and the marks of people who once occupied this neighborhood.