Body of water

Experimenting with a light box – silhouettes of dancing egg cases and holed stones.

Each object, carefully chosen, has its own special place. Studio walls are filled with categorised, catalogued, beach finds.

In time things accumulate. It is not always easy to notice. When dust starts to collect, it is only once it has gathered in swaythes, the sun comes out and casts new light on it, that it gets noticed. Grains of sand, stones, in isolation they are easy to miss, en masse, they are a landscape.

Walks to the beach have left me with a growing collection of pebbles and mermaids purses, shells and bits of crab. A growing beach of my own, tide lines further inland.

I have been finding parallels of my recovery from chronic illness reflected in the sea. I see the parallels in my experience reflected in front of me. And for me, living on the coast, where my principle goal beyond eating and sleeping is to get to the beach, my world and much of its meaning is currently centred around the sea. Perceptions are heightened by weather and tides but my experience is (perhaps) most accurately a reflection of my own state of mind. Despite protests, I see what I project, find what I look for.

It has felt as though things are levelling out this week. The energy of the sea mirrors this. A stillness of waves and brilliance of light. November days narrow and sunsets glow more brilliantly, before the darkness swallows us all. It has become a time to celebrate the light, while the small things gather.