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Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Circular Knitting Machines, Fall River Knitting Mills, Fall River, Massachusetts.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
White yarn bobbins on a beaming creel, Langhorne Carpet Company, Penndel, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Color matching dye lab, where dyes are formulated to match customer samples, G. J. Littlewood & Sons, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Dyed treated wool before carding, S & D Spinning Mill, Millbury, Massachusetts.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
A spool of finished roving coming off the carder, Woolrich Woolen Mill, Woolrich, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Sewing machines, New England Shirt Company, Fall River, Massachusetts.

Fruits of the Loom

In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 

Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.

Read more at The New York Times Magazine.

Photos: Christopher Payne

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A young woman, held after she was wounded during clashes between riot police and protestors after the funeral of Berkin Elvan in Istanbul on March 12, 2014. Riot police fired tear gas and water cannons at protestors in the capital, while in Istanbul, crowds shouting anti-government slogans lit a huge fire as they made their way to a cemetery for Elvan’s burial. A 15-year-old boy who died from injuries suffered during last year’s anti-government protests, Elvan’s story became a symbol for many Turks of the heavy-handed police tactics against mass anti-government demonstrators in June, a major challenge to Erdogan’s 11-year-rule.
Photo: Bulent Kilic/AFP

A young woman, held after she was wounded during clashes between riot police and protestors after the funeral of Berkin Elvan in Istanbul on March 12, 2014. Riot police fired tear gas and water cannons at protestors in the capital, while in Istanbul, crowds shouting anti-government slogans lit a huge fire as they made their way to a cemetery for Elvan’s burial. A 15-year-old boy who died from injuries suffered during last year’s anti-government protests, Elvan’s story became a symbol for many Turks of the heavy-handed police tactics against mass anti-government demonstrators in June, a major challenge to Erdogan’s 11-year-rule.

Photo: Bulent Kilic/AFP

An ultra-Orthodox Jewish girl wearing a costume, sits in a cage, marking the Purim festival in Bnei Brak, near Tel Aviv, Israel, Sunday, March 16, 2014. The Jewish holiday of Purim commemorates the Jews’ salvation from genocide in ancient Persia, as recounted in the Book of Esther which is read in synagogues. Other customs include sending food parcels and giving charity, dressing up in masks and costumes, eating a festive meal and public celebration.
Photo: Ariel Schalit/AP

An ultra-Orthodox Jewish girl wearing a costume, sits in a cage, marking the Purim festival in Bnei Brak, near Tel Aviv, Israel, Sunday, March 16, 2014. The Jewish holiday of Purim commemorates the Jews’ salvation from genocide in ancient Persia, as recounted in the Book of Esther which is read in synagogues. Other customs include sending food parcels and giving charity, dressing up in masks and costumes, eating a festive meal and public celebration.

Photo: Ariel Schalit/AP

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The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Ghaziya Iqbal, 35, breast-feeds her child at the site of her work in Islamabad. Ghaziya and her husband are in debt to their employer the amount of 250,000 rupees (approximately $2500).
The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Navila Shirali, 17, poses for a picture at the site of her work in Mandra, near Rawalpindi. Navila's father is in debt to his employer the amount of 500,000 rupees (approximately $5000).
The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Naila Liyaqat, 16, poses for a picture at the site of her work near Rawalpindi. Naila's father is in debt to his employer the amount of 300,000 rupees (approximately $3000).
The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Rubina Rafaqat, 22, poses for a picture with her child at the site of her work near Rawalpindi. Rubina and her husband are in debt to their employer the amount of 200,000 rupees (approximately $2000).
The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Emna Mohammed, 65, poses for a picture at the site of her work near Rawalpindi. Emna inherited her late husband's debt to the employer the amount of 95,000 rupees (approximately $950).
The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt
Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.
See more photos at TIME.com.
Amna Bhatti, 60, poses for a picture at the site of her work near Rawalpindi. Amna is in debt to her employer the amount of 150,000 rupees (approximately $1,500).

The Pakistani Women Brick-Makers Enslaved By Debt

Tens of thousands of “bonded laborers” in Pakistan work hard labor for decades to pay off debts accrued by their husbands or parents. This photo essay of female bonded laborers by AP photographer Muhammed Muheisen is in honor of International Women’s Day.

See more photos at TIME.com.

9 notes

Cambodia’s Monsoon Rain - Photos by Omar Havana for Al Jazeera
On the shores of the Tonle Sap - Cambodia’s “Great Lake” - a small settlement of fishermen who can no longer fish hides under posters of international aid projects, and provides a clear example of the complicated system of the humanitarian business in Southeast Asia.
People are forced to move kilometers away every year as the water rises from the “Great Lake” to flood surrounding villages. Unable to fish anymore since a law passed in 2006 outlawed fishing with small nets, a community 200 people lives under makeshift shelters in extreme poverty; their only income comes from hunting crickets at night.
Situated only a few kilometers away from the city of Siem Reap, home to the famous Angkor temples, Chong Kneas is visited by hundreds of thousands of tourists every year, who rent boats to tour the Great Lake, while often ignoring the dire situation of the people residing on its shores. Residents say they face widespread malnutrition, a lack of potable water and few employment opportunities.
The dusty path that separates the two rows of houses serves as a playground for dozens of children who live with next to nothing. On one side, women bet their last Riels in card games, hiding their aces between their toes; on the other side, dogs and people share beds, napping away the day.
In the afternoon, the sky darkens and rain drops begin to fall.
"Drinking water," says one resident, as he fills buckets with rain water.

Cambodia’s Monsoon Rain - Photos by Omar Havana for Al Jazeera

On the shores of the Tonle Sap - Cambodia’s “Great Lake” - a small settlement of fishermen who can no longer fish hides under posters of international aid projects, and provides a clear example of the complicated system of the humanitarian business in Southeast Asia.

People are forced to move kilometers away every year as the water rises from the “Great Lake” to flood surrounding villages. Unable to fish anymore since a law passed in 2006 outlawed fishing with small nets, a community 200 people lives under makeshift shelters in extreme poverty; their only income comes from hunting crickets at night.

Situated only a few kilometers away from the city of Siem Reap, home to the famous Angkor temples, Chong Kneas is visited by hundreds of thousands of tourists every year, who rent boats to tour the Great Lake, while often ignoring the dire situation of the people residing on its shores. Residents say they face widespread malnutrition, a lack of potable water and few employment opportunities.

The dusty path that separates the two rows of houses serves as a playground for dozens of children who live with next to nothing. On one side, women bet their last Riels in card games, hiding their aces between their toes; on the other side, dogs and people share beds, napping away the day.

In the afternoon, the sky darkens and rain drops begin to fall.

"Drinking water," says one resident, as he fills buckets with rain water.

Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Veronique has lived almost all her life in the riverside village of Zinga in Central African Republic. She fled when armed men “arrived in cars and trucks, shooting and killing along the road.”
Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Marcelin also lives with disability, unable to use his legs. The crutches he holds are more important than any of the other material possessions he was able to bring to the Boyabo refugee camp.
Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Benjamin poses behind his sewing machine, which he says “is my life, it is my blood. I use it to be able to buy food for my family."
Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Bonheur (second from right) poses in Boyabo refugee camp with his family, the most important possession for the nine-year-old boy.
Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Thirteen–year-old Fideline holds one of the school notebooks that she was able to salvage when she and her family fled for their lives and boarded a boat to Batanga.
Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.
Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR
Emmaus, aged 17, is seen with his most important possessions – a photograph of his father, who was murdered weeks before this image was taken, and a necklace given to him on his baptism.

Over the past year, the UN refugee agency has run a series of photosets on its website by American photographer Brian Sokol focusing on the possessions that refugees take with them when they are forced to flee from their homes. We started last August with Sudanese refugees in South Sudan and have since covered refugees from Syria and Mali.

Last year, Sokol visited the northern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) to ask refugees from the Central African Republic (CAR) the same question: What is the most important thing you brought with you? He again received interesting answers from a wide range of people from rural and urban areas of CAR, where inter-communal violence has spiralled out of control. They are featured here and include a sandal that helped an old woman, a pair of crutches used by a man to reach safety and a boy’s photo of his slain father. Another boy named the family members who escaped to safety with him as his most important possession – many would feel the same. 

Tens of thousands of people have fled from CAR to neighbouring countries since December 2012, including 60,000 into northern DRC. Some 30,000 of them live in four refugee camps set up by UNHCR and the others are hosted by local families. For the majority, there was no time to pack before escaping. They fled extreme violence and chaos and arrived exhausted and traumatized in the DRC. They could take only the most essential and lightest belongings. The photos here were taken at Batanga Transit Centre, Boyabo Refugee Camp and Libenge village.

Photos: Brian Sokol/UNHCR

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