The first thing that attracts me to rust is its color. I see it every day and everywhere in nature, even without looking for it. It is in leaves, seed pods, fur, stones, and the earth. Rust is a color I associate with the fall season, aging, and time passing.
The color of rust is a reminder of how things used to be. For example, rusty tools make me imagine the people who worked with them for many years. These tools had been part of someone’s life. I am touched by remnants of things that are no longer complete and no longer have a function. For me, there is a natural fascination with something that was once very strong and is now fragile.
Rust is the final stage of erosion. It is the last moment of existence, before a metal object disappears. What was once something substantial is now ephemeral; only an idea of what it used to be. I am moved to keep this final moment, to preserve it.
Rust is a symbol of time. It changes how we see things; strong objects become soft and fragile, they change their color and their form. Rust is not only a color, but contains a reference to time and history. When I work with rust, I take a discarded material and begin to tell a new story.