I used to think it was better to burn out than to rust, a common enough thought when you’re young. Now I’m not so sure, as I sit here gently rusting. I still have my burning moments, but I see that rusting can be a graceful process. The sharp, straight edges are getting sculpted into softer organic forms. A shiny featureless skin can become a coat of interesting textures.
I wonder as I’m rusting, will people be able to see what I used to be? Or will they see some different thing, made interesting by decay? I think it takes a special eye, a loving eye, to see some benefit in these changes.
These photos came from a deserted farm on Kangaroo Island,South Australia, a farm implement and my favourite rusty door near where I live in France and from a cemetery in Newtwon,NSW,Australia.