The cheap version of reuse hides the seams. None of these do. Globe-Trotter fixes the locks and leaves the dents; a blacksmith’s duck is still visibly horseshoes and worn-out files; a manta ray is still cardboard; and a fishermen’s quarter in Rimini is still the houses it was, only painted.
A Madrid punk venue's façade, lit by signs saved from closed neighbourhood shops
→ gruta77.com
A rancher's decades of welded scrap-metal creatures roadside in Kansas
→ atlasobscura.com
Bench-made in Maine, lined with 1940s military surplus cloth
→ gearpatrol.com
Forty-one working pockets, sewn from thrifted jeans, one pair only
→ coryinfinite.com
Sixteen numbered cases, one of each in stock
→ globe-trotter.com
Rusted shoes and worn-out files, bent into a bird taking off
→ theawesomer.com
A life-sized manta ray, made of the boxes it shipped in
→ theawesomer.com
A fishermen's quarter that painted itself out of demolition, then into Fellini
→ atlasobscura.com