Banal Series # 17, Industrial Parks

Industrial parks, the bastions of light manufacture dotted throughout exurbia in modern America, allow the pragmatic value of goods production to be coupled with the soothing banality of the uniform cul-de-sac. Front offices, buttressed by well maintained blacktop parking lots, and framed by a front facing floor to ceiling window shrouded in a flank of Venetian blinds, act as simple waiting areas. Salesmen, prospective customers, consultants, and curious applicants can enjoy the simple comfort of the waiting area, and can find solace through the receptionist, who will, in fact, see to it that the visitor is addressed.

The rear of the building serves as the shipping and receiving area. Great loading docks, padded with bumpers fashioned out of used tire components, accommodate the heaving comings and goings of trucks. The workers, more than likely, have also carved out a niche in the form of a wooden picnic table for smoke breaks and lunch on good weather days. This space, it is understood, is to remain unmolested, yet safely keep out of sight.

The industrial area, neatly kept behind the scrim of the front office, contains the heart of the actual construction and packaging of whatever widget being produced. The interior is filled with mazes of shelves, conveyors, tables and wires, all for the manufacture of this “thing” or these “things” and visitors to the industrial park, as an implicit understanding, are treated to a tour, hardhatted or not, of the production area.