Factory 1936

This is Donald Greason’s "Factory," made using what looks like ink on paper. It's all these quick, repetitive strokes, like he was trying to capture the sheer volume of the place. I'm thinking about Greason standing there, maybe a little awestruck, trying to wrangle this behemoth of a building onto a small piece of paper. What was it like to be him, to look at this factory and see a kind of rough beauty, instead of just a place of work? The marks are so insistent, they really get the idea of the factory across. It feels like he's not just drawing a building, but trying to convey its energy, its presence. Like he’s saying: even in something so massive and industrial, there's a kind of beauty, a kind of pulse. And by drawing it, by trying to get it down on paper, he's acknowledging it, celebrating it, and maybe even wrestling with it.