It’s been my long-standing belief that as a people we don’t really give our everyday surroundings the respect they deserve. These are part of our lives for a long time yet we record them with little more than our rather fluid memories of them. My company’s corporate office is moving to another building at the end of the month so this afternoon, in an effort to capture the moment permanently, I went to the office and treated it as I would any of my other photographic subjects, capturing but not manipulating.
The staff has looked at this old building with no small nostalgia since the move was announced. This post-it along with several others placed on a plate glass window in a conference room termed “the aquarium” sums it up rather nicely and is the cover of the album online.
The company, along with its founder is the winner of many, many awards. It was difficult to do these relics of the company’s history justice without moving them.
This bit of abstractness and florality is the first thing visitors see to our little company.
That’s what the public sees, but there’s more behind the scenes.
One thing you have to admit about my company (which is rather intentionally not mentioned by name here since this little tour isn’t in any way sanctioned) is that the people who work here are dedicated. I popped into the office on a Sunday afternoon expecting to find the place empty but instead I actually found two other people doing real work. Chandra is our manager of QA and not only was he in the building but also actively doing work and seemingly happy about it.
This is cubeland. Here’s where all the great things happen. We work here, argue here, laugh here and curse here. It’s the real heart of the plebeian life of the company.
Every office has its stories. In this case I say simply that our IT staff are militant recyclers. If you accidentally put a staple into the recycle bin you might just get a rocker-launcher dart to the forehead.
If cubeland is the land of the plebes, the boardroom is the land of the executives. If you think it’s hard deciding on a calling pattern for the new subroutine you’re writing, try figuring out how to provide health insurance to 115 employees and their dependents while still remaining profitable enough to keep the board of directors off your back.
But as with any company, it’s not all about work, work and more work… We have our points of recreation and relaxation too.
The breakroom is also where all the free sodas live. Mmmmmm….. soda.
And the pool table…
Not to mention the occasional chess game that breaks out…
Oh, and there’s also some… ummm… storage! Yes, that’s it! Storage!
Alright, that’s all I can show you without having to kill you. Time to…
So after finishing up at the office, I had to go somewhere and unwind. I have to admit that when I discovered that other people were in the office it did create a fair bit of anxiety. My photographic techniques are fairly undignified and the idea of doing it where people I work with can see it freaked me out a bit. So what better place to end up than the park in Zionsville.
Zionsville road, the major thoroughfare through the city, has undergone many iterations it seems. On either side of the current road there are old bridges long since fallen into non-existence but the old pylons remain.
Under the current bridge, the drainage pipes always offer interest in the winter.
On the other side of the road, I paid a price to take this photo. I spotted it from below and climbed up an embankment to get it from a different angle. Sadly, as I was walking and watching my footing closely on some lose gravel I forgot that there was a 20-ton concrete bridge overhead and walked right into it head first. Regardless of potential concussion, I got the shot.
Zionsville is an affluent town. There’s not really a ton of disaffected youth here. Need proof? Check out the graffiti under the bridge:
Water levels were low so it was easy enough to find a place to stand in the middle of the creek.
I’ll close with the first flowers I’ve found of this not-really-springtime. These seem doomed but at least they had their day.
And that’s the day that was.