This barn-like structure of corrugated iron looked deserted at first sight – on that cold bright Friday afternoon in the weird part of the Inner Mission near (and under) the freeway where these beat-up industrial buildings rub up against cut-rate suburban-style chain-stores and their vast parking lots (created by knocking down other examples of exactly such buildings) – with a few renovated hipster lofts thrown in. Despite appearances, some kind of modest blue-collar business involving the internal combustion engine was still going on inside this particular building – a fact I only discovered when an elderly fat white man came striding toward me while I was taking these pictures, aggressively asking if he could help me. This has happened before – apparently on the assumption that the camera must be in the service of a lawsuit or a real estate deal. When I started talking about the fantastic shadows and textures and other fag-like aesthetic matters, my new friend turned away and went back inside with a contemptuous shake of the head.
