A Broken Gearwheel

I came across this fragment of concrete by chance — two heavy, jagged halves lying on a bed of smooth stones, their shapes echoing the teeth of a gearwheel. It looked industrial, almost mechanical, yet entirely static and inert. There was no motion here, only the suggestion of it, frozen in decay.

When I composed the frame, I aimed to make the gear the clear focal point while still allowing the surrounding textures to play their part. The roughness of the stone bed contrasts nicely with the flat, worn surface of the concrete pieces. The diagonal orientation of the gear halves gives the image a touch of dynamism that the subject itself lacks, hinting at its past utility.

The light was cooperative — low enough to give the surfaces depth without creating harsh shadows. That said, the exposure needed to balance the pale tones of the concrete against the darker, mossy crevices. It was easy to blow out the highlights on the smoother edges, so I underexposed slightly to preserve detail.

This is not an image that shouts. It’s quiet, almost indifferent to being looked at. But I like that about it — the sense that it’s simply there, discarded, weathering slowly, with no concern for interpretation. In photographing it, I’ve perhaps imposed more narrative than it cares to have, but that’s the strange bargain between subject and photographer.