Waste Land Page #5

at the same picture.

When one thing turns into another

is the most beautiful moment.

A combination of sounds

transforms into music.

And that applies to everything.

That moment is really magical.

Looks good.

You want to dress up

like mommy, in a sheet?

Let me see here. You're going

to be just like a little saint.

You're going to sit here.

Move your legs a bit, is that ok?

That's it.

Didn't it come out beautifully?

This whole area will be

filled in with stuff.

And it will be clearer

at the sides.

Exactly.

When you are placing the materials,

follow the shadows of the picture.

Did you just do this one?

Do the same thing

with the shorter one.

I want to close this here and see

if it makes more sense like that.

See this line going up...

Is there a way to take

something away here?

Take off one more.

That's it.

Brooke de Ocampo, Isis.

- Hi, how are you?

- Suelen.

Hi.

This is Magna.

- Hi.

- How are you?

Brooke has a super important job

at an international auction company.

So we're going to make

a really big photograph of this.

And she's already agreed

to take it to an international sale.

There'll be a guy with a hammer,

going, going, going, gone.

Suelen and her two kids.

It all started by the feeling

that we should do something...

that will convert back to them.

We'll make something

out of garbage...

and it would be sold

for a lot of money.

And it will become something they

would put their hands on to help them.

And in the end, they won't say:

"Vik did it.

Right.

- We did it.

- Right.

I had just arrived from the bank

and given the money to Gloria.

I was standing by

the door and I saw him

and another man coming

towards us with a pointed gun.

They told us not to move.

And they took everybody's wages.

How much money was there?

Six... US$6,000.

I keep asking myself

if it's worth it.

And the comission?

Sometimes I just feel like

giving up on all of this.

I don't want to be here anymore.

The presents are this small.

Try making it gradually darker from

here to here, does that make sense?

Good work everyone.

It came out beautifully!

That's not garbage,

it's recyclable material, it's money.

A lot of money.

Oh man that's crazy.

It looks exactly like me.

Oh, my! Man!

I never imagined

I'd become a work of art.

Take a look.

See?

That's me?

Yes ma'am, that's your arm.

It's this photo right here.

You're looking in that direction...

- that's your arm.

- I see.

Everything is made out of recyclable

materials from the landfill.

I see. How charming!

It's so well done. Excuse me

while I have a look over here.

- Come on, come on, look.

- My God.

Let's see if I understand it right.

Oh yes. I understand!

Here's the arm.

I understand.

It's all recyclable materials.

Look at this.

As far as you can see.

You see huge buildings.

It becomes sort of

a textural thing.

You lose that sense of scale.

It starts to look small...

and like it's just like hair.

It's not a pretty place.

Except when you look

from very far away.

This is where I grew up.

Every time we talk about

some friend...

that lived here...

then we say "oh he died!"

So many of them died.

They died from drug traffic...

or they died

from all kinds of stuff.

That used to be my room...

when I was a kid.

Now it's just the guest room.

There was always a lot

of humidity on the walls...

because Sao Paolo

is very rainy all the time.

I used to have my bed here...

and there were all these stains.

I used to make a diary...

of how the stains

would develop.

This used to be

a very rough neighborhood.

Now it's becoming sort of a low...

low middle class neighborhood.

But it's safe...

and people can live here

decently.

I was never...

ashamed of being poor.

And I was always proud

of my parents.

I bought this lot in 1963, and I

built this house with difficulty.

When I moved here it was dirt,

there were no paved roads, nothing.

There was no running water,

no sewage.

Thanks God, now it's the opposite.

Today we have everything we need.

We got here with some difficulty,

but with dignity.

My grandmother brought me up...

because my mother...

had to work

at the phone company.

And my father

he worked at night...

sometimes

he worked two shifts.

This is Ana Rocha...

the most important woman...

in my life.

She is 93 years old.

I told them

you were 70 years old.

That's right.

I'm getting stiff from

lying in this position.

Artists have to suffer,

don't you know?

Who told you that, Vik?

Honey, I just know.

I'm on the inside now.

Man, you're becoming an artist.

It's all Vik's fault.

Vik's made you conceited,

Vik and Fabio.

That's what they keep

saying at home.

It changed a lot of things for me.

I don't see myself

I the trash anymore.

I really don't.

I don't know.

I don't want to go back

to the garbage. I don't.

I told Fabio:
Just let me stay.

Even if I only get US$150 a month.

But please just let me stay here.

I don't want to go back

to the garbage.

A little more in profile.

The sad story is that I lost my son

when he was three years old.

I saw my son die when

he was three years old.

I was at the hospital

with him for three days.

I saw him dying.

Breathing his

last breaths and everything.

He had acute pneumonia.

He was throwing up

little pieces of his lungs.

They called me to identify my son's

body. It was on top of a stone.

It was wrapped in black plastic...

with a big sign

with his name, Carlos Igor.

I fell over, I fainted.

I couldn't believe that

it was my son.

I asked them to take the plastic off

because he was too hot.

After that my husband left me and

he took my daughter away from me.

She's eight now,

when my son died she was two.

I never saw her again.

Not since she was two.

I forgot my life,

I forgot everything,

I forgot that I had a life,

a house, everything.

I started going out all the time.

The only thing I didn't

do was do drugs, thank God.

But I started going out

and drinking and getting wasted.

I started drinking

moonshine all the time.

My son was so beautiful,

he was very beautiful.

I lost the last

photograph I had of him.

It was in my wallet

that was stolen.

But I don't forget anything.

I don't forget the tiniest details.

At the morgue,

there was a little ant crawling on

his face because of the flowers.

I made a scene to get that ant

off my son's body.

I don't forget a single detail

not a single, single one.

- Come my dear.

- Thank you.

I'll print a photograph for you.

No.

Isis, you're not supposed to cry.

Come here.

Thank you.

- Did you like it?

- Yes.

Remember that first day

at Jardim Gramacho?

Did you think that that lunatic...

with the camera was going

to do something like this?

Not in my wildest dreams.

I think we have to be careful...

because I really

can see already...

how delicate the whole situation

of having them there...

is for them.

For their minds.

They totally forgot

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