Stoker

In the shaking, deafening cab of the locomotive, the stoker laboured in a relentless discomfort of iron and fire. Every muscle in his back complained as he drove the heavy steel shovel into the mountain of coal, pivoting his bruised body to hurl the black rock into the roaring, blinding maw of the firebox. The inferno instantly seared the sweat on his face and arms, while fine, gritty dust irritated the throat and stung the eyelids. There was no pause and no reprieve from the rhythm; he was a mortal man feeding the endless hunger of a mechanical beast, trading his blistered hands and aching spine to keep the great engine pounding fiercely along an iron road.

Original available for purchase:

42 x 60 CM oil on stretched canvas. £375