Background

I moved to Plum Island in 2011 & adopted a rescue dog from Arkansas named Roxy in 2012. We’ve walked the beach almost every morning, year-round since. 

On a dark and freezing morning during the winter of 2015, a plastic baby doll head left behind by the outgoing tide caught my eye. I pried it loose from the frozen sand and took it home. This began my slide down the flotsam rabbit hole. 

First, I only collected toys, but the collector in me inevitably took over and my toy collection grew to include shotgun shells, shoe heels, combs, old pipes, toothbrushes, balls of fishing line, and on and on and on. Soon, my yard was a plastic graveyard.

I’ve discovered that like things float together. Some days I might find 6 or 7 tennis balls, other days the wrack line is a trail of colorful bottle caps. Once, two Monopoly houses washed up on the same day about a half a mile apart. 

All these items individually don’t say much, but together, they tell the story of all of us; what we value, consume, discard, hold nostalgic.

The shoreline is a place where nature collides with the detritus we humans leave in our wake. Plastic forks intermingle with bird bones, Happy Meal Toys float in on clumps of seaweed. Frequently, I mistake reeds for straws or straws for reeds. It is easy to see how sea creatures innocently attempt to feed on things we have left behind. 

The Museum of Lost Toys  & Curiosities is a reminder that the garbage man  isn’t a magic fairy who makes our trash disappear. 

You never know what will wash ashore. 

-Corinn Flaherty