When we moved here nearly 14 years ago I envisioned a working homestead that also hosted unexpected art. Sun glinting off the colored glass of a bottle tree in the back yard. Blueberry bushes growing around fairy houses made of tree trunks and stone. A winding trail in the woods with the occasional sculpture rising along the path. Well, you get the idea.
I draw designs, collect found objects, wheedle the people here who know how to weld and who have the strength to wield heavy equipment, and ramble around the net looking for photos to envy.
So far, all we’ve collectively accomplished is a large mosaic moon. The base is metal we repurposed and the glass includes broken plates, doll’s arms, keys, and other items I gathered while cleaning out my parent’s house for the last time.
Sometimes I grumble that I’m still waiting to work on sculptures. We talk about creating a wonderfully huge monster with an air tank body, its head and feet made from pieces of broken farm implements, it’s wings from an old antenna tower. So far the monster is in pieces all over our little farm waiting to take form.
But I realized, while taking a stroll in the sunshine, that all sorts of unintentional metal sculpture already coexists with the weeds, ruts, and flourishing life around here.
For now, I’ll appreciate farm art wherever I find it.