We already know that it takes plastics an incredibly long time to biodegrade. In fact, you might have already reconciled with the idea that the plastics of your day-to-day life are going to long outlive you. But, what if your CVS receipts, floss picks and bottle caps were the only possessions that survived you — and your entire generation? What would posterity think?
“The Plastic Bag Store,” an immersive and multipart art installation created by Robin Frohardt, explores this concept: the legacy of plastic. It opened in Ann Arbor’s 777 Building on Jan. 17, and stay until Feb. 5, 2023. I attended the hour-long performance at 8 p.m. on Wednesday, Jan. 18. Without the added fees, student tickets for this event are $12 and general admission is $30.
At first glance, the exhibit’s name seems to do it justice. It’s a mock grocery store with goods made from collected plastics. The shelves are fully stocked with a wide variety of products. Like a “normal” grocery store, there is a bakery, a produce aisle and a frozen food section. The merchandise is labeled with parody brand names that highlight the trash they are made of. Cereals are called “Caps N’ Such” and “Shredded Waste” — yuck. Crackers are named “Bitz of Plastic” and soda is named “Plastic Dew.” The intricacy of the merchandise extended far beyond their realistic, bright packaging and punny names. The back of the boxes/containers even had fake recipes and cooking instructions. The sheer attention to detail and mass production of the plastic replicas was impressive.
But the parody grocery store aspect of the installation is not the main spectacle. At 8:04 p.m., the “grocery clerks” made an announcement, asking guests to stand to the side as they reconfigured the room: flipping signs, adding seats and setting up a screen. The majority of seats were reinforced cardboard boxes, an emphasis on the reuse of materials. Guests then sat down as a screening of a pre recorded puppet show began.
The three-part film follows a fictional past, present and future of single-use plastics with a notably compelling original score by Freddi Price. The show begins with a tale of an ancient man named Thad who invents and sells plastic water vases. Eventually discovering the dangers of commercialism and plastic pollution, he forewarns future generations of the perils of plastic. However, his plea is misinterpreted and ignored.
The second part of the film is projected on a stack of cardboard boxes. The narrative is set in a world littered with garbage (an era most similar to our present) and follows Helen, a custodian whose career and personal life are spent navigating loads of plastic. On the back of a CVS receipt, Helen writes a note detailing the environmental grievances of her generation. She sticks it in a plastic bottle, hoping someone will find it in the future. This more somber section features shots of a decrepit cardboard city riddled with plastic and has impressive cinematography, including the use of compelling underwater special effects.
After the second section of the film concluded, the grocery store clerks whisked away audience members to a secret room behind the frozen food section of the store. The space was white and “icy,” and guests were sprinkled with fake snow as they entered. The change in setting matches the final piece of the film as it takes place in a future time when even the land by the equator hosts a frigid climate. In this section, a scientist uncovers Helen’s letter but can only make out the words “Most Valued Customer” at the bottom of the receipt. This, along with the loads of other plastic he finds, shapes his view of a past generation he calls “The Ancient Customers.” As plastic was the only remnant of Helen’s catastrophic time, there is a grand misunderstanding about the waste. The scientist assumed that items like floss picks and bottle caps had the utmost importance to his ancestors. The audience, however, understands these items to be disposable products, not ones of grandeur. To me, this was the most compelling section of the film with the most poignant social commentary and biting humor. It forces the audience to imagine what the future of a consumer-driven and plastic-ridden world will look like.
After the film concluded, a tour guide played by Tyler Gunther led us to a mock museum that documents the misunderstood past of “The Ancient Customers.” Displayed behind a glass case, lighters were labeled as holy water containers and floss picks as musical instruments among other items. The audience reveled in this section of the exhibition, audibly laughing at the guide’s speech and snapping lots of photos of the misconstrued artifacts. As we were escorted back to the main room of the mock-grocery store, the clerks sported dazzling blue aprons, while artists Robin Frohardt and Admiral Grey donned shiny white jumpsuits and elaborate headpieces made of plastic lids and cutlery.
Funny, somber and camp, “The Plastic Bag Store” blends fun and solemnity. It is an invitation for visitors to reflect on their plastic consumption in an entertaining multimedia spectacle. While the installation’s commentary was effective, the film does not come off as a lecture or “call to action.” As opposed to activist pieces that emphasize harrowing statistics and heart-breaking accounts, the installation is fiction-oriented and playful. However, “The Plastic Bag Store” is marketed as far more immersive than it truly is and, for an hour-long activity, is a bit on the pricier side. Despite this, the piece ultimately serves a higher purpose, reminding artists and viewers that activism and art can fuse in unique ways. Undoubtedly creative and ambitious, I could have never predicted what my “Plastic Bag Store” experience would have been or felt like.
Daily Arts Writer Nicole Appiani can be reached at nappiani@umich.edu.