A Crown of Rust
By Brent M. Jones
Once a thing of class, Once a noble giant, Now sitting alone in the grass
Rusted from roof to ground Greatness can’t be restored The weather is no friend.
A new day, faded color With rust a crown that remains The rust some consider art,
Iron, steel, and water reveal Where reality stopped, art began
Thoughts about the Poem
Art is a searching process. People searching for something to create. Where do the artist’s thoughts take them when considering rusted-out automobiles or rusted-out anything?
The color of rust comes from the red family which is a very passionate color and charges the space bringing in lots of energy.
When we create something, we mentally navigate a space of possibilities, searching for a creative solution to evoke a desired sensation.
The choice of the creative instrument is essential, and rust is particularly fascinating: it conveys, not just the destination of the process, but the author's arrival for choice - the search itself.
#rRust #Rustinforms #RustArt #RustReflectsLife