At the heart of an abandoned factory site rests a heavy iron wheel, clinging to a pipe system that has not fed steam for a long time. The ravages of time have eaten into the metal without compassion: rust in shades of reddish brown and orange covers the surface like crusty armour, while green deposits have nestled in the seams. Once this wheel turned with force - slowly, but purposefully - it determined the flow of vapour or water through the thick pipes behind it. Open or closed. All or nothing.
The photograph captures this forgotten piece of engineering in stunning detail. The rough texture of the iron, the weathered paint remnants, the flaking, the light streaking along the edge of the wheel, almost giving it a bronze sheen. You can almost feel how rough the surface is, how it would rub under your hand. In the distance, vague shapes of the outside world are visible - hazy and modern - a stark contrast to this silent witness of industry and labour.
On the edge of the wheel, letters and numbers can still be vaguely read, like a stamp of origin or series - signs of a time when this was not an art object, but simply a cog in the bigger picture. Now the sculpture is silent, but history revels in the rust. This is no ordinary piece of scrap metal; it is a gateway to stories of labour, heat, and noise - now captured in a single, silent image.
Photography has been my passion since 1975. Whereas in the past I often photographed people, I now mainly focus on photographing landscapes, nature and animals... Read more…