Grandfather

I didn’t know my grandfather well; he didn’t speak much. He was a mechanic and in his old age continued to spend his days in his garage, working on something or other, more out of habit than anything else perhaps.
 
I came upon an old piece of railroad track that he used as an anvil, rusty and pitted now after years of neglect, nailed to a log, half exposed to the elements in the open doorway of the garage.
 
I used it to make these pieces, delicately texturing their surface by hammering them into the aged metal, hence the name of this collection “Grandfather”.

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