I’ve always got epoxy resin lying around. I’ve been using it in my artwork for almost ten years now. And I’ve put some weird stuff in it during that time. A lot of bingo sheets and Dairy Cheer wrappers and that sort of thing. I had an odd amount left over late last year so I thought it would be funny to encapsulate some cat turds into a cube that I could just keep on my desk or whatever.
It didn’t work for a lot of reasons, the biggest being that epoxy resins are two-part liquid systems that cure into a solid by way of a chemical reaction that takes place when they’re mixed together. They get really hot and the thicker you pour them the hotter they get. They get so hot they can catch things on fire. Up to 400 degrees. So basically what I ended up with was a ruined mold and boiled cat shit trapped inside a blob of brown cracked plastic. Not good.
I probably would’ve called it a day after that if it hadn’t occurred to me that preserved HORSE turds, especially Kentucky Derby-winning horse turds, would be a perfect product for the killers at Kentucky for Kentucky. They’ve let me do a lot of dumb fun stuff over the years, and they’ve done a lot of dumb fun stuff of their own (Like gold-plated KFC bone jewelry and Double Down-scented candles). I knew they’d at least consider it if I could pull it off.
So, like a complete psychopath, that’s what I’ve been doing in my spare time for the last few months. I’ve been gathering horse turds from wherever I can find them and trying every process and every product I can think of to make these goddamn things in a way that’s efficient, replicable, relatively inexpensive, and looks smoooove.
I done did it. Check em out. Perfectly preserved turds from 1997 Kentucky Derby winner Silver Charm.
These bad boys are available for purchase exclusively from Kentucky for Kentucky.
I’m going to do a whole series of strange Southern encapsulations in mason jars called Dixieland Preserves. They’ll also be available from Kentucky for Kentucky. Follow them on Facebook and all that so you’ll know if/when/where they’re available because they might sell out quick.
Is there something quintessentially Southern you think I ought to preserve for eternity? Holler at me and let me know, you dirty rat. Anything is possible! (No it’s not.)
Photos by Erick Moore