Factory Entrance
Artist Swatzentruber illustrates the absurdity of life in a factory where there is nothing but chaos. Unseen destruction seems imminent within its prison-like confines. The entrance and exit are appropriately shown near the bowels of the serpent. The paradox of the entrance stairway being unreachable and also not scaleable plus the exit boarded shut emphasizes the closed nature of the factory giant. As a foreboding symbol both hands by the door strongly suggest no entry is encouraged and harm can come from any attempts to counter the sign's warnings. The pig-like ears suggest that the factory has an insatiable appetite to fuel its smoke-producing engine. He depicts how disjointed activities of a factory take on automated movement, but in a mutated manner. The conveyor is dumping the product back to earth, while the serpent's foot is crushing anything that might leave his control. The factory mechanizes control of natural resources in the air, plants, and the earth. It is clear that the artist's message is these devilish outpourings of smoke and soot are the work of demons with only a cursory attempt to ennoble the factory's output with humanistic facial symbols. He depicts mankind is being polluted for no reward forthcoming. Perhaps an omen for mankind!
-Dr. Dennis Myers, Laguna Beach, California

Factory Entrance
I once saw the word 'Enter' upon a Victorian gate but to see it nailed to
the wall of the factory I knew it was too late.
Too late to live, move ,to late to cry leaves only the option but to
die. Outside on the conveyor belt piled high with burnt-out souls aimed
straight toward the factory to the stony knell of a sanctuary bell .
But the lament in the face of folks is nothing quite so grim, than
knowing all those lost forsaken souls are condemned by their love of
sin. To love ,to lust to fill a must, to steal the bread from friend,all
these heinous crimes brings me to regret my final bitter end.
But were you Mafia? Were you the same ?Then don't you too agree it's
just as easy to do some good rather than head for that devilish factory.
Inside that building souls burn sharp orange-red and flames reach terror
tall where chimneys blast out thick black smoke a warning to us all.
Pollution rakes the land around , you can see it everywhere. How to stop
the scourge of sin right here? I suppose not even the devil has a care.
-Cleveland W. Gibson, (Author of Billabongo) Faringdon, Oxon, United Kingdom