'As a self-employed artist living in relative autonomy and precarity, I can feel untethered from the formal structures and conventions that shape our notions of ‘work’. I don’t observe a weekend or an eight-hour day; the line I draw between labour and leisure is indistinct. Twenty years have passed since I last reported to a ‘boss’. Even so, while reading Sam Wallman’s sweeping graphic love letter to unionism, I am reminded of the myriad ways I benefit from the revolutionary history of organised worker solidarity—a struggle that has re-modelled the framework of contemporary institutions and the imaginations of those who populate them.' (Introduction)