Your project began with a simple challenge from your design life: could packaging make people want something they’d never buy? How did that spark become NYC Garbage?

I was studying advertising and graphic design at New York’s School of Visual Arts, and the summer after my sophomore year, I had an internship at MTV. Some co-workers and I were having a conversation, and the topic of package design came up; someone said, “Package design doesn’t matter,” and I was like, “Oh yes, it matters.” I said, “If I could package something that absolutely nobody would ever want to buy and convince people to buy it, then I know my design was successful, and I could prove them wrong.”

One day I was staring down into Times Square and was like, “Garbage! People don’t want garbage.” So I sat on the idea for a year, trying to figure out how I could get people to buy it. At the time, Beanie Babies were super collectible, so I sort of leaned into the collectibility aspect and put some trash into AMAC containers, sealed them, signed them, numbered each box, and put the date the garbage was picked. I went down to Times Square with a cardboard sign that read Garbage for Sale and well, that first night was rough. I started at $10 a box, but no one wanted one, so I dropped the price to $5. Still, no bites. But then, amazingly, after about 7 hours, a gentleman from Ecuador who didn’t really speak English finally bought one. And then it clicked: I’d sold garbage, essentially because of the way it looked in the AMAC box.

You’ve used AMAC boxes from day one. Why that choice?

What does your build look like today?

Each cube is hand-picked, arranged, and authenticated. I print the label on transparency film, cut it to fit so it appears to float. I sign and number it and write the date the garbage was collected. I seal the lid with solvent so the plastic bonds; you’d have to physically break the cube to open it. That’s key for preservation—and, yes, keeping odors in. I don’t wash the contents before putting them into the box, but I do wipe the outside with disinfectant and, of course, use gloves when collecting and handling the garbage.

Yes, I build around a centerpiece usually, then radiate supporting details so there is something compelling to see from every angle. People can turn the cube in their hands and keep discovering little narratives–a wiffle ball, lipstick on a coffee lid, a ripped parking ticket, a sliver of a handwritten note.

Your prices evolved–from $5 on the street to $100 and up online. Did the AMAC box help shift perspective from novelty to art?

At ten bucks, people thought it was a joke. At $25, it read as a souvenir. Around $50 and up, people started calling it art. The box delivers the idea with precision every time. In total, I sold about 1,400 cubes across 30 countries before pausing in 2012. When I brought it back recently, 50 cubes sold out in 90 minutes. There is a whole new audience ready to read the work.

Your collecting process sounds like a night-shift archeology of New York City. But it’s just street garbage, you don’t go into garbage bins, correct?

That’s right. The city is dirtiest at the end of the day, before the streets are cleaned, so I go out then. And every neighborhood has different types of garbage. Times Square garbage is very different from Tribeca or Brooklyn garbage. I’ve found photo strips from the 1950s spilled across West Fourth Street with photos of a little kid at Christmas and a kid on a horse; a Post-it that said “I love you,” torn in half; ring boxes and confetti the day marriage equality became legal in New York. The cubes become time capsules.Yes, I only comb the streets for the garbage. I like to just find things that have been tossed aside. And it’s kind of amazing how much garbage is discarded daily on New York City streets.

All of it. New Yorkers treat “our garbage” like a point of pride; expats want a piece of home; others want a fragment of the city they’ve only seen through films. For me, it’s about perception: finding beauty in what we discard and proving design can confer value. If not everyone “gets it,” that’s fine–maybe even the point. The people who do “get it” really love it.

You recently took NYC Garbage on the road.

For Earth Day in Atlanta, we curated trash and invited people to assemble their own cubes. The line went past closing–kids and adults were all in. It showed me the idea travels. The AMAC box works great; it helps people instantly read what they made as finished, display-worthy art.

What’s next?

I’m planning more New York editions–Pride, big sports moments, maybe film and theater events if I can get access. My dream project is a warehouse show mapped like the city itself, cubes of garbage grouped by neighborhood, so you can literally walk through the boroughs and see the differences through what people toss. And I’m building out the mini-line so more people can collect them.

Final Thoughts

Thank you, Justin, for sharing your story with us. You’ve proved your thesis that package design matters. The AMAC box doesn’t just contain the art—it transforms how we see it.