So, I had to write this "study of a space" essay for a film class I'm currently taking. Surprisingly enough, I actually had fun writing it.

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This place is an industrial-sized garage. It’s cool and subterranean feeling down here, and huge. You could easily fit three vehicles in the large space, but there is only one red Honda parked, looking lonely. The space apparently used to be the storage area for a shipping company. The floors and ceiling are cold gray concrete. Three of the four walls seem to be painted-over cinderblock, with the paint rubbed away in places. The fourth wall seems to be a more traditional building material, sheetrock and plaster with paint over it. Any wall that is painted is either an off-white or beige. Along a section where two walls meet, there are a plethora of various paint splatters of varying colors. In some spaces the paint is gray and unappealing, other places the paint is more colorful and loud, bringing to mind an odd sort of cheerfulness with it.

Smack-dab in the middle of the concrete ceiling there are a row of skylights, set back about three to four feet into the ceiling so that unless you’re right under them you can’t actually see up to the windows themselves. The glass is frosted so you can’t see out even when you can see the skylight itself. During the day it provides enough light to see by. At night, you can see the yellow-orange light of nearby streetlights set above feebly filtering in. The lighting is sparse, with only a few flickering fluorescents set into the ceiling at intervals, all activated by a switch near the doors.

On one side of the space there’s a big sliding door, and a smaller normal door next to it. On the side wall (the non-concrete wall) next to these two doors, there is a third door, with no handle. This door opens on a flight of creaky stairs that lead up to the top story of an apartment. Underneath the stairs, there’s a closet, used for storage and full of cardboard boxes and empty clothes hangers. No door on the closet opening. There are rows of cardboard boxes along the wall as well.

On the far side of the space from the doors is a living area of sorts, oddly cozy in the wasteland of the space. A large dark rug is lain out to save cold feet from colder concrete. There is a dark blue futon on the ground at the junction of two walls, right below the paint splatters. A white door is propped up against the wall at the head of the sleep space. A white sheet lies over the futon, with five pillows and three blankets strewn over that. It’s a mishmash of colors, patterns, and textures. One blanket is thin fleece and camouflage, another thick with a plaid pattern, the third made of a heavy fabric that looks like denim. The pillows are mostly throw-pillows, some satiny and some more plush. Only one pillow is normally sized, a plain white rectangle of comfort.

At the foot of the futon there is a cardboard box with a pile of clean clothes, mostly black t-shirts and pants. On the other side of this there is a large bucket being used as a trashcan. It is full to the brim with what looks to mostly be tissues and snack-trash. On the other side of this, there is a huge pile of aluminum cans, held in place between a wall and a plaid sheet. Stacked into the corner opposite the futon is a large pile of trash that is mostly made up of white plastic grocery bags filled with refuse. It’s trash, sure, but at least it’s tidily put away in the corner.

Next to the futon is a defunct gray desk chair on wheels, barely holding together. This is the only chair in the entire space, however, so it reigns supreme. Next to the chair, with one side up against the wall, is a large rectangular table made of heavy-duty plactic with three separate computer screens and a laptop as well. A large old-school clunky keyboard, a nondescript computer mouse sitting on a green mousepad, and a small lamp set behind the right monitor complete the setup. Various wires and connections spill out of the back of the set-up in profusion. There is a small amount of clutter to the left of the three screens. Mostly the clutter consists of random bits of paper, a tissue box, and a smattering of now-empty snack bags and boxes. On the far side of the table, on the ground there is a small, squat, shiny silver mini-fridge. Inside there are a lot of soda cans, with the occasional energy drink.

Back behind the table there is a large modem, constantly on, never ceasing to run. Underneath the desk, there is another large modem. The side of it is clear, and when it’s turned on it spills blue light from its innards onto the legs of whoever happens to be sitting at the computer. On top of this modem, there is a small space heater, the only source of heat in the space.

Noise in this place has a weird, echo-y quality to it. In the hush most of the time all you can hear is the whir of the computers, the clack of the clunky keyboard, and the click of the mouse. Sometimes outside noises filter in. A car can be heard to drive by. In the dojo in the next room over, sometimes martial arts classes can be heard. And in the early morning, when the weak sunlight filters through the skylight, you can hear the birds tweet and chirp and sing outside. It’s… beautiful.