From the journal, earlier this week.

I spent a lovely chunk of time this morning walking along the shoreline at Leighton.

Not jogging, not salvaging wood, not finding treasures for the garden or studio, not checking waves. Just walking. Water up to my thighs and a warm easterly blowing on my face.

These moments of rest/refocus/calm seem to be further apart? Work in school in brimming with endless directions and conversations; the studio always seems to say a week ahead with possibility.

We never actually catch up with life; control is a myth.

And if we ever caught life with two hands, would it really be worth keeping?

I ask myself to be kind to myself in my thinking and to let the balance ebb/flow/ebb, to let chaos play its part.

But for today, here’s to rest.




Sea Foam, spray and acrylic on wood, 81cm x 59cm

Do you remember the morning?
When the shore
and the sea
clapped hands in sandy chaos?
Foam and salt and
the ripples of the sea-floor
and a moment of reverse expectations from a patterned ocean.

Sea Foam shows the moment a wave hits the receding backwash and explodes in sand, sea and salt. The painting exposes the earthy dimensions of the sea and hints at the irregularities of swell periods, sand banks and set waves.
Just as waves are birthed as a by-product of far-off storms, this painting had it’s genesis as irregular pieces of wood floating around the studio, begging to find their whole.
Sea Foam was painted using spray and acrylic paint and tessellated onto a plywood board.


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