Skip to main content

Work from Home

 


The reference for this piece is a known work of fine art: a photograph by Peter Mitchell, a lorry driver who traversed West Yorkshire and occasionally snapped photos. The piece is titled Eric Massheder, Leeds, (1975). Eric is the man in the doorway, a drippings refinery worker who posed in his home, adjacent (really, attached) to the refinery where he worked for 12 years. Eric woke up in his home in the morning, walked one room (or so) over, and began his shift. I have changed and omitted a few details for the sake of composition as usual.

I've now been working from home for about four years, and I make a similar commute without stepping outdoors. My house even resembles Eric's a bit, though there's no factory nearby. I enter my workplace by transferring a USB cable, which joins all of my input and output devices from my personal computer to my work laptop. I stoop under my desk to make the transfer, so possibly a similar amount of exercise is involved—the digital equivalent of a brick wall in separation.

The photo is richer in color. I saved this image originally because I am drawn to the appearance of brick on overcast days, as shown in Vermeer's The Little Street. If only I had spent a life learning oil painting, I could also show bricks this way.



Little streets, even brick ones, are washed over by work which colors every day, with slight variations. They must be swept and kept clean to retain a certain dignity.

I wonder how Eric felt living next to his place of work, whether he looked forward to each day. Did he need to visit the refinery at odd hours to check some detail? Or did proximity merely save him a commute? I wonder whether noises from the refinery continued into his dining room after he left work, and whether eventually, those noises became a comfort or an annoyance.

I used Street View in Leeds to try to locate the building pictured on Vulcan St. to no avail. I found some housing developments and a few newer-looking offices, so I assume this home and factory have been demolished.

This photograph is known for capturing an industrial landscape rapidly vanishing from the U.K. the way other photos by Mitchell did. This photo preserved something of 1975, while somehow standing in the doorway of 2024.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Artifact Studies and Random Notes

In junior high school I collaborated on a project with a small, mostly-female group of students. We were to design a unique, fictional culture and build illustrative cultural artifacts. We would bury said artifacts in a cardboard box filled with soil. Another team would then excavate our artifacts and guess about our culture. After several days of creative deliberation, we designed a pyramid-based matriarchy wherein men were kept underground as slaves, brought out occasionally to build more pyramids. Elvis was God. According to the artifact of my memory, middle school was a confused and hostile culture. I began this week's illustrations, again, with visual research. I still don't know everything about these artifacts, but my Stebbins Dance Festival book has some interesting statements about them. Part of what I do know I impart below. According to their cultural artifacts, the Yup'ik people practice artful dancing to drums while waving furred objects. They also spend time ...

Ad Hominem and the Carney Lexicon

Ad hominem is one of the better-known fallacies, perhaps because it is so common. In Latin, it means: "to the man." In American, it translates fuzzily to: "Oh yeah? Well, you're ugly." Broken down, the ad hominem argument looks like this: Person 1 makes claim X There is something objectionable about Person 1 (maybe ugliness) Therefore claim X is false Ad hominem is one of the many red-herring arguments, fallacious when it diverts attention from the core argument to focus on some flaw about the arguer. In creating my illustration, I needed a distracting character, and what character is more distracting than one of those bellowing circus-game people with the rings, bottles, and inflatable dolphin prizes? I quickly realized my vocabulary lacked a word for a purveyor of state-fair gamery, other than the generic "carney." Perhaps this is because I have never played a circus game, due to my lack of coordination and my dominant interest in spending my tick...