Type Writer Parfumerie Particulière
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Incredible story of paper.
Bitter paper, packed as a pile, in a dramatic fall to the cold metal floor or the empty paper mill in retirement, full to the brim with goods left behind?
Type Writer functions as a snapshot of a drama of metallic technology falling in slow motion or that of a baroque still life reinterpreted in the age of industrialization.
Manchester, England, 1904.
A typewriter is developed to the pinnacle of inventiveness. An assembly line version for large orders is created.
Write! Write! - Two inventions later, nobody wants to use it any more. It is closed.
All the appliances and unfinished goods are left standing quietly. Nobody cares about them.
The blue daylight, filled with cold, reaches through the dull windows of the factory.
Brushed steel dramatizes the cold to the climax as a reflection.
Occasionally a sheet of paper falls slowly to the floor. A stack rarely.
But today is the day-before the bang, he has to indulge in a slow-motion stunt, which ultimately lands with a loud crash in a barrel of dried-up blue ink.
The story is well told-but the author occasionally gets the scent wrong, which makes it less believable.
Type Writer functions as a snapshot of a drama of metallic technology falling in slow motion or that of a baroque still life reinterpreted in the age of industrialization.
Manchester, England, 1904.
A typewriter is developed to the pinnacle of inventiveness. An assembly line version for large orders is created.
Write! Write! - Two inventions later, nobody wants to use it any more. It is closed.
All the appliances and unfinished goods are left standing quietly. Nobody cares about them.
The blue daylight, filled with cold, reaches through the dull windows of the factory.
Brushed steel dramatizes the cold to the climax as a reflection.
Occasionally a sheet of paper falls slowly to the floor. A stack rarely.
But today is the day-before the bang, he has to indulge in a slow-motion stunt, which ultimately lands with a loud crash in a barrel of dried-up blue ink.
The story is well told-but the author occasionally gets the scent wrong, which makes it less believable.
Eviaano
