The American Rust Belt is one mired by the affects of population loss and deindustrialization. Once a critical industrial center for the country, the Rust Belt began to experience rapid economic decline in the 50s due to a multitude of factors, leaving in its wake places that are fundamentally contradictory. They are simultaneously jaded and beautiful, banal and extraordinary. They encompass a feeling that can only be described as painfully human; it is the feeling of concrete power plant stacks breathing out smoke against cotton candy sunsets, grand bridges eerily void of traffic, and ragged power line poles lining quiet neighborhoods. The landscapes of the Rust Belt have been stripped back of their bustling, shining exterior, and have evolved into the quiet, melancholy, and comforting spaces of my home. Through photography, I am able to apply a temporary, mathematical composition upon their structure, instilling in me a sense of calm, humility, and connection. I am able to find meaning in places now deemed meaningless.
