Nicholas Males


Currently, I've been working on the 'why?' Why rust books? Why cut up and disjoint their contents making them illegible? Is/were the contents of these books relevant? These 'books' discuss the concerns around the theories of dissemination, raising many questions about the everyday cycle and maintenance of things, in this case, that being books, and the symbolic meaning of the inception of knowledge and/or education. Rust - a direct relationship to that of time, thus queries the notions and effects time has on things. This cultural underpinning of time is interwoven as Rust Never Sleeps. Once confronted by these very enigmatic objects with the aesthetic of cut up rust on books, the work invites the viewer to read/pick up the art, exposing the nature of rust.

Where only a few pages within each book have been affected by the medium, this creates an impression that not all is lost at this stage of the 'oxidation' process. Perhaps the books can be saved? Each page has only a fraction of the initial content, therefore becoming very disjointed and creating an inability to truly enjoy what was, thus removing the human task of reading – only becoming snippets of text. This very removal of the 'human' element has consumeristic undertones in relation to the current day, where we automatize and digitalize everything that can be. This state of no longer being wanted for there is something 'better', or the process of obsolescence is the main focus shown within my art process. When people speak of obsolescence, I always think of technology. More specifically I think of items I had used nearly every day growing up, such as a Blue Panasonic SL-SX330 CD Walkman, [released in early 2004] which took two AA batteries. It almost seems preposterous that something that I had found so wonderful could become out-dated so quickly by a consumer hungry society and its constant desire for "better" things.