Welcome. Let's overthink together.
Anything can be an artifact if it gets old and dusty enough.
The Scrolls of Ridgewood are used lotto tickets, wrinkled sticky notes, discarded crossword puzzles, receipts, and candy wrappers. They are completed math tests, flyers for events long passed, and bathroom graffiti. They are words on a page — any page — that has been, at some point, declared useless trash.
The academic debate about what counts as “trash” vs. an “artifact,” is a bit of a headache. Not much is widely agreed upon. Not the necessary historical significance, nor the rarity. Not even the age of the item, or the relative dust level, (which then pokes a hole in my opening sentence, forgive me!)
This debate matters not here at The Scrolls of Ridgewood. If you’re here, that means you’ve chosen a side: the side of trash, only trash, and nothing more than trash. It also means you’re likely inquisitive, and you appreciate/overthink the small details of life. If you’ve ever found half a ticket stub on the ground and wondered who’s walking around under the same red sun with the other half, you’re in the right place.
So here’s what you can expect from me:
A new Scrolls in your inbox every week.
A grimy new “text” to uncover, plucked fresh from the streets of New York.
A “curatorial analysis” of the text’s history, and the stories I’ll dream up about it when it suits me.
And if you’d like to stroke my ego and gain more context, I’ll include a weekly reading recommendations list. No pressure though — you won’t be quizzed.
Expect to hear from the scrolls of Ridgewood on Wednesday evenings. Otherwise, you can assume the radioactive germs of NYC trash cans have adhered themselves to me indefinitely, and I’ve been indisposed. (Or you could simply check if you’re still subscribed. Let’s call that plan A.)
And here’s a taste:
Ballpoint pen on Mead brand Five Star lined notebook paper, 18×12 cm
Date: c. 2025, Ridgewood, NY
Author: Andy Loftus
Provenance: Donated by author, Ridgewood, NY.
Curatorial Notes: Pictured in the lower lefthand corner is a blue mound — the author’s leg, which he accidentally caught in the photo while distracted by the feline limb occupying the upper lefthand corner. The limb belongs to the author’s six-month-old kitten, “Hobbes,” who seized the document and immediately began to chew on it shortly after the photo was taken.