I acquired this collection of torn magazine pages on the sixth level of the main parking lot at O’hare Airport on February 27, 1989 at 1:45pm. The scraps were strewn around, as if someone had torn up the magazine and left the pieces to be distributed by the wind. Some were wet or muddy or slightly crumbled.
The pieces I liked best were the ones that left the most to the imagination, images that just had a hint of flesh against a gray or garishly colored background. The finest examples were the filthiest, caked with the dirt that adhered to them in their initial, perhaps guilty, disposal. The scraps were illicit and sexy.
I have stored them in a Sekonic L-398 Studio Deluxe light meter box for over twenty years.
Lisa Anne Auerbach