What the Rust Remembered

A broken piece of metal found upon ancestors land.

Once discarded, weathered by rain, sun, and time, it carried no obvious value.

Yet as I held it in my hands, I wondered what stories the land still remembered.

And so after bringing it home, I have prepped it and started painting a wagon wheel upon its rusted surface, not as a picture of the past, but as a symbol of the lives that turned upon this country.

This piece of metal, rubbish to some has brought thought and memory of my 3 x great grandparents James and Jane Parish and the families who worked the wheatbelt fields of the Yarriambiack Shire after immigrating from the United Kingdom. They raised children, endured uncertainty, and kept moving forward even when life was hard.

And in preparing of this found canvas, the rust remains on the back. I have allowed it to remain visible, because history is not smooth - so to have it held as it is, it marks respect tye labour, loss, hope, and endurance of whom I remember in the art.

This piece is part painting, part relic, part prayer and it says all and more ~ what do you think?