When I’m not taking photographs of the natural world, looking at squirrels, trees, water, bumblebees, clouds, muddy puddles and the like, I often find myself gazing at some old rusty object and dropping into a happy state of wonder. I’ve been wondering why.
I think it may be because once something has disentegrated a bit, lost its original shiny new state and become worn and changed by time and the elements, in a way it has joined the natural world and become something quite different.
I know some people would prefer to spend hours at a motor show marvelling at the seductive sleekness of a new Ferrari or a Porsche, or are at their happiest caressing a state-of-the-art mobile phone; I do love new things myself – and I’m no Luddite either. I particularly like new tools, for example, when they do a beautiful job and make doing it a pleasure (and I have my doubts about this cement-mixer whose fitness for purpose looks doubtful to me, and I enjoyed looking at it rather more than I suspect I would enjoy using it).
But I will always find my attention caught by any mouldering decrepit object, anything rusty, old or dusty.