I go to the metal yard in Readeville MA to hunt for scrap metal. The mountains of industrial remains are beyond beautiful to me, and convince me every time I go that metal refuse is a full-on full-frontal totally with-it medium.
I carry heavy mud-crusted scrap to the car, often long walks back and forth, to protect the tires from shards of metal on the ground.
The giant haystacks of pipe, waterfalls of sheet metal, underwater scapes of valves and shredded furnaces all combine to enchant like a 3-D anime. The art here is random, unplanned, muscular, poetic, musical. I frame it with my phone camera and take away weightless impressions.
This is the genome of my welded work.
M. Lord, January 28,2016