Not Only Here
Driving, I wind my car window down, the air is thick with the smells of the shore, a sense of easing from the doubt I woke up to. And the certainty that so often stands in for it. I'm on my way to view the sand bars at my local surf break. Descending toward the shore, I find the gravelled car park empty and the view reveals an ocean recovering from the previous day's onslaught of 3m swells from the west. As waves arrive from the deep, their forms fragment, revealing the inconsistency beneath. The sand bars have shifted. No surf today, suggesting it's a morning for painting on the island.
The ocean is charged, though smaller, and there's a call to be close to where it meets the rocks. Setting up to paint meant staying aware of the incoming tide, especially when the swell surged. This vantage point is fused with uncertainty and I begin anyway. Today, however, there's a need to fortify my own convictions when composing, as if to say, I'm going to make this.
Once the pigment connects with the paper this reinforced repetitive ignorance dissolves. The rhythm of place begins to funnel in, with every brush stroke and modulation of tone. Is this the shape, or shall I add or remove, back and forward, I mix a deeper tone and watch as the bristles spread, my fingers rotating the handle with anticipation.
This wave of certainty often arises, and not only at the shore, the studio too. It's me not us, despite knowing it to be me in place, me in process. There are many surf sessions, when the ocean reminds me where I am and what I'm part of.
What is this space?
On Practice is a series of writing on process, place, and the making of work. Get new entries in On Practice, plus occasional notes from the studio, sent monthly. Sign up
