Sunday, November 11, 2012
I work in an older building in the city I live in and often find myself exploring different parts of the campus occasionally. I am definitely not paid to be an urban explorer, but at times, needing a break from starting at my PC screen, I find myself drawn to wandering aimlessly through lesser traversed spots in the building. On one such daily adventure, I discovered a space that exists in the "nether"; a space that provides no form or function to the company I work for.
My only estimate of the particular space's origin is that it resulted from the building's expansion at some point of the business's history. Rather than tear down the original building's metal wall, the engineering firm built an entirely new complex and connected the two buildings with a couple of hall ways and metal roofing. Cheap and efficient, no doubt the engineering rage of late 70's Midwest architecture. Today, it sits as a fluorescent lit hallway that leads absolutely nowhere. No form or function required; just metal, concrete, pipes and lighting.
To think about what has been on this exact spot over the course of time is quite overwhelming. Initially a spot of earth and rock, later perhaps a prehistoric culture's site, perhaps even later in time the site of a home or a farm, today the space exists electric, cold and, idle. It no longer needs rain, sunlight, or human attention; without my discovery, it likely would continue to be ignored. I will not be able to revert this particular space to its original physical appearance, but I will not forget or be ignorant of this particular space for the rest of my life.