Unboxing 3: Dangerous Goods Manifest

 

Leicester, December 2020

There's probably a limit to how many of these workplace-derived 'Unboxing' posts I can belabour you with - at least without a bit of creative manipulation of the source imagery.  Nevertheless, I remain deeply attracted to the honest simplicity and truth-to-materials of the honest brown cardboard box, and to the emblematic symbology and potentially allusive texts which adhere to them.  These particular examples were especially 'thrilling' as (unusually), they contained a potentially hazardous chemical, and demonstrate the double-boxing, stern, graphic warnings, and 'Dangerous Goods Manifest' attendant on such a deadly cargo.  For the record, the product in question was a single bottle of Isopropanol - hardly plutonium, but at least: no couriers were harmed in the making of this blog post.

As soon as I have unpacked such consignments, the boxes generally get casually stacked in the corner of the classroom - awaiting recycling.  Even at this scale - with only two elements of modest scale, a distinctly totemic quality begins to emerge.  Indeed, I'm reminded that this is exactly how the format of 2018's 'Sentinel' sculptures originated - almost by accident.

'Sentinel' Sculptures, 'Visions of a Free-Floating Island', Surface Gallery, Nottingham,
September 2018

Perhaps there may be some tentative connection between those pieces, and the spate of mysteriously emerging monoliths, at various international locations, a couple of weeks back.  The reporting of those (beginning with what may have been some kind of oblique art-prank in remotest Utah) appears to have dwindled already.  That makes me think the whole thing was little more than an online meme that failed to really catch hold - particularly as the vaguely unworldly examples at a handful of locations, were joined by reports of a puerile, and far-too-representational, phallic example in Germany.  I suspect we'll soon file the memory of 2020's monoliths away with crop circles, and the like (if we remember them at all).  It does emphasise the enduring fascination of totemic, columnar forms, in the human imagination, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the primordial urge to stack up cardboard boxes; well, that's something altogether more profound - clearly.

Chairs Missing

All Images: November 2020

"I shake you down to say 'please', as you accept the next dose of disease" [2.].

[1. & 2.]: Wire, 'I am The Fly', From the Album: 'Chairs Missing', Harvest Records, 1978

Unboxing 2: Remix

 

All Images: October 2020

...And then, this happened.

Unboxing 2

All Images: October 2020

I had to order more...

 

Unboxing 1

 

All Images: October 2020

Cardboard boxes aren't currently as prevalent in my work as they were a couple of years back, but I still recognise a good one when I see it.  This little gem (and its slightly larger companion) passed through my hands, following a recent delivery, as part of my school-based day job.

Admittedly, it may seem terminally anoraky (and perhaps - characteristically Technicianly) to get so enthusiastic about such a quotidian subject.  But honestly, who could deny the beauty of its formal geometry, or the delicious juxtaposition of raw, brown cardboard against bold red & white graphics?  We even get quasi-hazard stripes and warning messages, into the bargain.

   

'Nuff said? - Thought so.

Benign Surveillance 1

All Images: Central Birmingham, January 2018

I suppose it's only realistic to accept that some might find something questionable in my current habit of pointing of my lens through urban windows - to photograph the occupants within, without their knowledge or consent.  Certainly, such activities could raise a variety of potentially problematic issues regarding personal privacy, in our current surveillance-obsessed society - if viewed with cynicism.
   

In so far as I've analysed my own ethical standpoint on the matter, my current view is that it's largely a matter of intention (like most things really).  I hope that anyone viewing these latest glimpses of corporate life can appreciate that my motives are pretty benign.  The people depicted are, I think, suitably anonymous, and their activities - sufficiently mundane and non-incriminating, to negate any sense of genuinely sinister intrusion.  In addition, these are hardly the most technically adept photos ever captured - their murky, almost sub-aquatic flavour, making them pretty hard to interpret in any event.  Anyway, I'll happily leave the specific location of these shots unannounced, and assert that there is no deliberate intention to demean, deride or embarrass anyone here, on my part.

In reality, the stimulus for this little suite of images, was mostly to do with capturing that sense of melancholy, Hopperesque alienation, so characteristic of modern urban life - and an innocent curiosity about 'what those people actually do in there', that I often experience when passing nominally unremarkable workplaces.  I'll be honest - the specific details  of contemporary employment practices remain a considerable mystery to me, in many respects.  Above all, it's just that old flanneurist or quasi-Situationist fascination with 'the everyday' - I suppose.  That - and the visual appeal of deflected reflections and framing architectural geometry, of course.  

I suppose there's also the question of why the unaccustomed inclusion of the human element in many of my recent photographs should occur in such a distanced and detached manner.  I'll leave in-depth consideration of the potential psychological implications of that for another time...