Rusty
Living in KZN and especially in Durban means that rust is a part of everyday life. My car is rusted. The back security gate is rusted. The front gate is rusted. If it’s metal, it’s rusted. Some of my favourite places to hang out (like the harbour or the beach) have their fair share of rust. Rust drives me crazy (especially where my car is concerned) but is also strangely beautiful. I like the colour. It can stain your hands and be a million shades of orange and brown. I just love using Iron Oxide in my glazes and I love using dark red iron-rich clays. What does this say about my work and my home? Merely superficial? A strange comment about beauty in the unexpected?
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