Cross-Sections

To simply view the images in this project, please click on the picture below.

For those of you who wish to read something about this project, my statement is available below.

For more than twenty eight years, I worked a cross-sectioned life in a cube consisting of three sides with six-foot high colorless partitions. The cube looks as if its external facade has been sliced away, exposing its contents and occupant to the whims and demands of the workplace. Here, we get to see the cogs at work in the great corporate machine. There is little privacy with an abundance of noise distractions; certainly not something for the squeamish.

In the early morning, when the floor lighting has been reduced to minimum, the shadowed cross-sections seem to come alive and exude glimpses and echoes of their former inhabitants.

But how does a cog attempt to survive the harsh exposures of day-to-day laboring in such a sterilized setting, where conformity is the expected norm? Where the very air seems to suck the life-force out of its workforce? Humanity somehow struggles to emerge through the symbols of personality. One chooses to cope through food. Another through music. Some through decoration or socialization as their weapon of choice. Still others rebel and erect their own partitions.

But the fact remains: we are chained to our desks, under the constant measurement of the ever-vigilant corporate eye. “Big Brother” is truly watching. Yes. We are “glad to have a job” as the broken record subliminally drones in the background. Although we struggle to resist, we soon find that “resistance is futile” even as we work from weekend to weekend. At the end of the day we may find that we can “checkout any time we like, but we can never leave”!