Rust

Late one afternoon with nothing better to photograph, and interested in trying out a new lens, I took some shots of some rusty old shipping containers, and some junk stored behind them, through the back security fence of the Royal Brighton Yacht club Marina.

There were logs that seem to have been used to make pylons, some of the rock that had been used to extend the breakwater around the marina, bits of old rope and some rusty old springs hung from turn-buckles. I have no idea what they had been used for.

One or two of the images seemed interesting so I went back again recently and this time, while leaning my camera through the security fence dropped the lens hood. It was lying on one of the rocks just out of reach. Bugger!

Fortunately, a yacht owner was on his way to do some work on his boat and let me through the gate. So I took the opportunity to grab a few more shots. The results are in this little PDF book.

I was going to call it “The secret ministry of rust”, thinking of the first line of Coleridge’s poem “Frost at Midnight”. There’s a sort of analogy between Frost and Rust, I think. But in the end, I let that drop. The text still sounds a bit like a meditation on death, but I certainly didn’t intend that. It might just be the autumn weather that has suddenly gripped Melbourne. Please feel free to interpret the images in a much more cheery light…

As always, I encourage you to download the PDF and to view it “full screen” on a computer or your tablet. It will display on a phone but you won’t see what I wanted you to see.

Download a PDF file (7MB)

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