Hands stretching through time connect me with the workers of the Sloss site. Their futures have become our past and present. Their dreams for their lives and families resonate with our own hopes for ours. Though the labor and the place has changed, we remain bound together by the iron seam and our shared relationship with the river of iron flowing through Birmingham.
The hand, like the wrinkles and worn skin, offers a window into human livelihood. It holds the tool, is protected by the glove, and endures the furnace’s wear. Threadbare and singed from its proximity to the flames, the glove reflects the toll of labor on the body.
In the material, there are ghosts and stories, lives lived and eons of history. When I’m gone, the iron will remain, and someone might find my weathered gloves, feeling a connection through our shared history and dreams for a life well-lived. From this monumental space of a retired blast furnace arises a profound respect for the labor performed here—a deep appreciation for the volume of production, the immense effort of the workers, and their skilled craftsmanship.
