In a earlier blog post, I discussed the dimensions of my tiny woodworking space, which measures 1.8 x 1.8 meters (6 x 6 feet). Initially, I perceived this space as cramped, but over time, I've adapted and become accustomed to its limitations. What has also helped, I suppose, is the progress I've made in organising my shop, making it more workable.
But things took on a different perspective when I visited San Francisco last weekend – on the back of a work trip to New York.
While in San Francisco, I had the opportunity to visit Alcatraz, it's the obvious thing to do as a tourist, right?
Arriving at Alcatraz – as a tourist, not an inmate! – a few minutes before landing.
I was curious about this visit. Clint Eastwood's classic movie "
Escape from Alcatraz" has always been one of my all-time favourites, and helped me imagine what life might have been like on "The Rock". However, reality proved to be different from what's portrayed on a movie or TV screen once I set foot in the actual context.
One of my biggest surprises was the actual size of the prison cells. When I peeked into one of them, I realised how small these cells actually are. They measure 5 x 9 feet (1.5 x 2.7 meters), providing just enough room for one bed, a water closet, a tiny desk, and a bit of space to stretch your legs.
And here is a cell with a dummy of one of
the prisoners that managed to escape. Though, it's still a mystery to me how they managed to dig such a hole in a solid concrete wall with spoons and without getting detected.
It was also interesting to see how the cells were organised in blocks, imagine you're locked up for years with no privacy at all. The stench from the toilets must have also been horrible – because they were flushed with salt water.
While roaming around D Block, I realised that my little workshop is actually smaller than any of Alcatraz's prison cells. That put things into perspective. How tiny is tiny? Well, if you consider a prison cell tiny, my shed is even tinier.
But I also found some inspiration on Alcatraz. I suppose, for a place like Alcatraz, to make it function, you need rules and regulations. I came across this rule book at the souvenir shop...
And I'm truly fascinated by how it dictates an orderly life – even the maximum number of books an inmate is allowed to store on a shelf is regulated – a maximum of 12, in case you were curious. I can't imagine what my life would look like with only 12 books.
So, I have been thinking about this rule book ever since and realise that despite the fact that my little shed is even tinier than an Alcatraz prison cell, I do have very few rules. Actually, no rules... apart from one principle:
the principle of first order of retrievability. And for the rest, it's basically chaos that reigns.
Perhaps it's time for a change. I need a rule book, I guess... one that stipulates a structure that will put chaos to an end – like darkness ends when when the morning sun's beams fill a room.
And I want this rule book to be written on a mechanical type writer, just like Alcatraz's institutional rules and regulations. There's an art to writing rules, and it involves hammering them into paper – not onto paper. It's not about nostalgia; it's about the way real rules are crafted. They're meant to embody an intent and determination to bend the world to one's logic. Each letter stamped into the paper's fabric is an expression of control.
And I am desperate for a sense of control.
All I want is an orderly life in my tiny little universe.
