Photography is not my area of expertise. I leave that to my sister, who never ceases to amaze me with her talent and her photographer’s eye. (I should have used her for “M”. M is for Mandi.) But, I do recall a point where I thought my photographic talent was at least good enough to win myself a photo contest amongst friends. After a slightly heated debate about whose skills ranked the highest, the challenge of a photo contest was raised. Always being up for anything that allows my competitive side to run wild, I was all for the idea. In preparation for the contest, I simply took pictures of things that I liked, things that I found beautiful for one reason or another...and truth be told, the resulting photos were not winning material. But, it nonetheless cemented in my head that I am in love with rust. Rolls of film were spent on rusty metal tables and the gorgeously rusted gates of a nearby cemetery. And, while there are plenty of people who have expressed, in one form or another, their curiosity over why rust would be inspirational, the orange-ish red substance continues to beckon me.
And because of this, it’s probably no wonder why I immediately took to the red rocks of Sedona. On our summer vacation to Arizona, my sister and I were submerged in a land where the beauty of the landscape surrounds and inspires. The tall, towering rocks and the desert hues would fill any artist with awe. But, when I found out that the red in those rocks is actually rust caused from iron oxide, it was no surprise to me why I felt so deeply inspired by this place. One of my biggest sources of inspiration was literally underfoot and all around me.