THE SMELTER PROJECT
The Value in the Ugly
Is the old smelter worth anything?
In a small industrial town, at the very end of a long fjord, are the remains of what was for almost a hundred years The Smelter.
The Smelter occupied the finest flat land in the village, dominating the city with large, ugly buildings, colossal chimneys that spewed out gases, dust and smoke.
The men at the smelter walked out of their houses in the gray light. They had a job to look after, a job at the smelter.
And they stood in it, day after day, week after week. Shift after shift, round shift scheme, three shifts a day, every day, workdays and weekends.
Then it was over. It got quiet. The smelter went bankrupt. The smelter was closed down. It was all over.
The buildings remained. Dark, silent buildings in a quieter town.
And voices began to speak. The irritation got voices, talk went, patience diminished.
Tear off all the shit. Get it off, all of it!
The remains of the old smelter irritate, dominate, take up space.
It’s ugly it’s useless, it’s just some ugly old scrap which no one wants.
Therefore, tear down all the shit. Get it off everything!
Is the old factory worth anything?
Does the old smelter have anything to say to us?
Solid Metal Belly
Gray and black dust centimeter by centimeter a broken skin a pile of residue Witnesses the heat which once was here in the smelter where the men had their work income to house and home
He was a man just a man of flesh and blood He had a girl he was in love with her He was just an ordinary man in the smelter’s firm grip
Little Lars + little Kari
He was walking around in here in oversized boots counting the hours until the shift should end He knew she was there at home just waiting for him
Spear in stand Spear in the open hole The fire is burning red Hellish temperature hellish heat the shift is nearing its end
The control booth Up a flight of stairs Into a door Half an hour maybe in the shelter, in peace thinking of her Thinking about it home warmth bed
He’s in control governs the little which is in here The night shift until the morning dew He’s the controller and responsible for the little which is
To have control is what it’s about Check in at night on the shift waiting until the light comes on and we can turn it off the fire of hell in the metal abdomen over there
The railway around in circle the cradles glide slowly round and round Get filled with liquid mass glows red-white in the hall The morning light outside Is it long until the shift is over?
The new machine facilitate work Shields against the heat A miracle when the crew is struggling New times new requirements Nobody knows what’s coming
What happened inside the factory? What was it like to live in this city? What was it like to have this old factory as an important part of your life?
What’s ugly? What’s nice? What is beautiful?
What we see before our eyes — what does it mean?
All rights reserved. © Øivind H. Solheim, author of novels, poetry, articles, essays, short fiction and experimental writings. Contact: [email protected].
