Workmen's Warehouse
Welcome to my Master of Fine Arts show, Workmen's Warehouse! This work represents both a culmination of what I have been working on in graduate school, as well as some new directions that I plan to take in the future. Please enjoy!
"Workmen's Warehouse"
Neckties, DOT Reflective Tape, Epoxy, Table
70"x24"x30" 2011 |
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"Today's Man"
Fabric, Hanger, DOT Reflective Tape, Epoxy
25"x8"x36" 2011 |
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"Middle Management"
Pitchfork, Neckties
45"x45"x72" 2011 |
"Blue Ribbon at the County Fair"
Aluminum, MDF, Contact Paper, Plaque
62"x38"x30" 2011 |
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"Plaid Drawings"
Chalk Snap-Line, Plywood
42"x1"x34" and 22"x1"x30" 2011 |
 These Drawings were created using a carpenter's tool called a Chalk Snap-Line. Thousands of "snaps" were used to make the plaid pattern on these sheets of plywood.
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"Pretty Much Says It All"
PETG, Fabric, Tassels, Piping
20"x13"x15" 2011 |
"Ding"
“Ding,”
the elevator chimed as the door opened and the two men stepped inside.
“Long week?” John asked, with the same familiar tone of exhaustion that Friday evenings bring.
“Same shit, different pile.” James said without looking up. He raised his chin and said, “I’m beginning to wonder if this is all that there is…”
“Awww, come on, it couldn’t be all that bad,” John responded. “Plus, I’m sure you are looking forward to the game this weekend, right?”
“Always half-full, eh? You’re right though. It’s not all that bad. And I am looking forward to the game.” James let out a long sigh.
“Ding.” The elevator door opened again. Neither of them had pressed the button for the tenth floor, and they were left staring into the cold marble lobby.
“Figures.” James said sarcastically as he reached for the button. “I just wish that for once I would be recognized for doing the same damn thing day in and day out. I get up, I go to work, I always take a short lunch, work more, and go home. Nothing ever changes, nothing new ever happens.”
“That sounds tough, “ said James honestly, but with a reluctant wince, knowing what was about to come next.
“It is! And I never receive any sort of recognition for it. I work my ass off everyday, but does the endurance worker get rewarded? No! Only the slacker who all of the sudden decides to actually work for once gets noticed. It is enough to drive a guy nuts.” James spewed out, the way he does when complaining about work. He continued, “You know what the worst part is?”
“That footwear you have to sport all day long?” John answered, trying to lighten the mood.
“No,” James responded coldly, struggling to loosen his necktie. “That little fucker is making the same amount as me. I do twice as much work, but since he swoops in and ‘saves the day’ once every six months, we are somehow equals?”
John shifted his feet, and James continued. “I mean, my boss keeps getting raises. Yeah, sure, I respect the guy’s work ethic, and he is pretty damn smart, but what about me? Is it possible to make things a little more fair? I’m not asking for equal pay, just to spread the peanut butter a little, you know?”
“Ding,” the elevator chimed as it finally reached the tenth floor. James picked up his briefcase and left without waiting for a response. John let out a deep sigh, reflecting on the conversation that was so similar to every interaction he had with James.
‘Poor guy. He does the same monotonous tasks day after day, and he has been complaining about it every Friday for the last 12 years. I can’t imagine doing that type of thankless work. I suppose I should count my blessings that I’m not working a job like that.’ He thought as he lifted his tool belt over his shoulder and walked down the hall in the opposite direction towards his apartment.
“Long week?” John asked, with the same familiar tone of exhaustion that Friday evenings bring.
“Same shit, different pile.” James said without looking up. He raised his chin and said, “I’m beginning to wonder if this is all that there is…”
“Awww, come on, it couldn’t be all that bad,” John responded. “Plus, I’m sure you are looking forward to the game this weekend, right?”
“Always half-full, eh? You’re right though. It’s not all that bad. And I am looking forward to the game.” James let out a long sigh.
“Ding.” The elevator door opened again. Neither of them had pressed the button for the tenth floor, and they were left staring into the cold marble lobby.
“Figures.” James said sarcastically as he reached for the button. “I just wish that for once I would be recognized for doing the same damn thing day in and day out. I get up, I go to work, I always take a short lunch, work more, and go home. Nothing ever changes, nothing new ever happens.”
“That sounds tough, “ said James honestly, but with a reluctant wince, knowing what was about to come next.
“It is! And I never receive any sort of recognition for it. I work my ass off everyday, but does the endurance worker get rewarded? No! Only the slacker who all of the sudden decides to actually work for once gets noticed. It is enough to drive a guy nuts.” James spewed out, the way he does when complaining about work. He continued, “You know what the worst part is?”
“That footwear you have to sport all day long?” John answered, trying to lighten the mood.
“No,” James responded coldly, struggling to loosen his necktie. “That little fucker is making the same amount as me. I do twice as much work, but since he swoops in and ‘saves the day’ once every six months, we are somehow equals?”
John shifted his feet, and James continued. “I mean, my boss keeps getting raises. Yeah, sure, I respect the guy’s work ethic, and he is pretty damn smart, but what about me? Is it possible to make things a little more fair? I’m not asking for equal pay, just to spread the peanut butter a little, you know?”
“Ding,” the elevator chimed as it finally reached the tenth floor. James picked up his briefcase and left without waiting for a response. John let out a deep sigh, reflecting on the conversation that was so similar to every interaction he had with James.
‘Poor guy. He does the same monotonous tasks day after day, and he has been complaining about it every Friday for the last 12 years. I can’t imagine doing that type of thankless work. I suppose I should count my blessings that I’m not working a job like that.’ He thought as he lifted his tool belt over his shoulder and walked down the hall in the opposite direction towards his apartment.
