'Welcome my son, welcome to the machine.
Where have you been? its alright we know where youve been.
Youve been in the pipeline, filling in time, provided with toys and
scouting for boys.
You bought a guitar to punish your ma,
And you didnt like school, and you know youre nobodys fool,
So welcome to the machine.
Welcome my son, welcome to the machine.
What did you dream? its alright we told you what to dream.
You dreamed of a big star, he played a mean guitar,
He always ate in the steak bar. he loved to drive in his jaguar'.
So welcome to the machine. A symbol for realising revolutionary potential, the spirit of endevour and an irresistable epidemic of expansion and growth.
Not for Roger Walters of Pink Floyd, his lyrics (above) show a manipulating and cynical music industry. For others, alienation in a changing world.
Witney exported blankets woven on machines to North American Indians who wore them as capes, exported with the Hudson Bay Trading Co. I would have thought the indians would have woven their own blankets, but then there you go, its a funny old world.
For me the machine represents western capitalism and the Indian some kind of more attractive 'other'. I am looking forward to depicting him in this mosaic, but I have to focus on another project now and I will have to wait may be as long as a month before I can meet my friend the indian.
