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#Laborer
newyorkthegoldenage · 11 days
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An artisan working on a building on West Street, ca. 1922.
Photo: Irving Browning via the NY Historical Society
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thediktatortot · 1 year
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So I've had this conversation/argument with my ex-fiance and I'm just really curious to know what the usual for this task is (don't worry, he's not in the picture anymore I just really want to know) because this was a place of contention between me and him. I myself am unemployed due to disability and I shower at night.
If you want to provide extra data in the replies/tags please do (Assigned Gender, Job Type, How much of a sweat you work up in your day, etc) because it will add good data to the poll.
Please re-blog to increase data pool.
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imaginal-ai · 3 months
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"Military Daddy"
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shirtlessworking · 2 years
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shirtless crew piledriving
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red-faced-wolf · 9 months
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Reblog this with the patron saint that attributes to the work you do
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justana0kguy · 10 months
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2023 JULY 13 Thursday
"The laborer deserves his keep."
~ Matthew 10:10b
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mykl · 2 years
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“More than anyone else, perhaps, the miner can stand as the type of the manual worker, not only because his work is so exaggeratedly awful, but also because it is so vitally necessary and yet so remote from our experience, so invisible, as it were, that we are capable of forgetting it as we forget the blood in our veins.”
“If there is one man to whom I do feel myself inferior, it is a coal-miner.”
- George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
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rossodimarte · 2 years
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Giulio Ruffini, Pietà per il bracciante assassinato, 1950 - 52
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juancarlosphotog · 2 years
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Grapes harvest at a vineyard in #Kandahar. / Cosecha de uvas en una viña en Kandahar. * * * #Vineyard #EverydayAfghanistan #HansLucas #EverydayAFG #Laborer #Laborer #Photojournalism #Afghanistan #GrapesPicker #GrapesHarvest #Grapes #OMSYSTEMS #DeBeeldunie #JuanCarlos #2022Copyright * * * © Juan Carlos - All Rights Reserved / Todos los Derechos Reservados * * * Represented by Hans Lucas @studiohanslucas (France) and @beelduine De Beeldunie (Netherlands) (at Kandahar, Afghanistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChcqWx2Okvm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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thatrandomblogsays · 7 months
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I’m so happy for them
[Image Description: Castiel from Supernatural is saying I love you, underneath is an image of Dean Winchester with the caption: “After four months of striking the WGA has a reached a tentative agreement & finalizing the contract. If all goes well writers will get to return to work with better pay and protections. They did it. Go unions”]
(Source)
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thoughtportal · 7 months
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Gentrified food snacks
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newyorkthegoldenage · 2 months
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Longshoreman unloading a barge, 1936.
Photo: Richard A. Lyon via Christie's
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hamletthedane · 2 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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imaginal-ai · 3 months
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"Quarry Worker - 0001"
(The Working Bodies Series)
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borgevino · 3 months
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the allergy i am seeing grow up around small talk in any form is troubling to me. do you know how to make friends with people in your physical environment? it typically starts with small talk. do you want to live in community? small talk. do you want to have the type of relationship with your neighbors where you can run over and borrow a battery for your smoke detector when it starts beeping at 10pm? small talk!! do you want leeway from your coworkers when you fuck up something small? you gotta be able to build a relationship and that's small talk, baybeee.
"but i don't need friends and i don't care about community!" okay, lone ranger, what about the people in your community who need you? "but i have social anxiety!" me too, bud! we simply must soldier on. making up lists of questions to ask people helps. and people are predisposed to be generous, i've found. even if you make some kind of mistake, what is this but the natural give and take of human interaction? nobody is perfect.
you were not put on this earth to live by yourself and then die. you need people and people need you. treat those around you with curiosity and generousness of spirit and you will gain so much goodwill in return.
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hashtagloveloses · 7 months
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NEW UNION JUST DROPPED
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LET'S GOOOOOOO
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