The moment I got the first glimpse of the main production hall, lying there in all it’s crippled might, I knew that I was walking into a book
about the point between absolute zero and stillness, a series of images where everything has come to a standstill of frozen closure. A place where even the ghosts of the people who used to inhabit these buildings had abandoned it.
All that was left was the machines, patiently waiting in an overwhelming silence.
Hall after hall was deprived of reason, with gaping holes to a world outside. A world that was still in motion but without any relation to the drama that was going on so slowly and relentlessly inside the factory.
I felt that I had trespassed into what I can
only describe as a non-passage of time, a moment frozen with no ending and no real beginning. A moment that lead nowhere but possessed immense strength and beauty – a photograph.