The beach is
always resetting itself into smooth perfection again. As a kid, I
remember being baffled by whatever magical force did that every time I turned
away. And, for a while I made as much mess as I could...moats, shell-studded
walls, ring-castles and Sea Oat contraptions...but nothing ever survived the
cosmic, flattening reset button of the tide. I see myself again: sitting
cross legged, back to the water, the sun having made my shoulder-skin hot to
the touch, sand underneath my fingernails. Other kids, seagulls,
somewhere far off at the edge of my hearing. And then, there’s water.
My breath taken away. A sudden lifting, wave, air, and sand
churning together so furiously, my lap lost, and then that undercutting as the
water rushes back downhill to the sea, where you feel the sand and shell-crush
erode out from under you. The dynamism of that environment
is flabbergasting. And, yet it’s always smoothing-down,
leveling-out, and starting-over.
In the
photograph of the shells, with the V tracks left by the water, I like thinking
about how they stood firmly in the horizontal space of the beach, in their
relative position to the dunes, and the residential structures, even the
no-wake bouy a hundred yards off shore. But, they couldn’t hold on
to their up and down place. Anchored in one dimension, another axis
changed on them. There is solidity on barrier islands like Sanibel, but
not in the way that you were expecting it. And, I’m trying to capture that
feeling.
Some of the
photographs I took this month recorded the scarification imposed on the sand by
storm water. A collision happens when rain is washing towards the sea,
while the sea itself is surging onto the land. It’s hard to tell whether
the drain-paths are raised or indented, like when your eye gets lost a bit on a
topographical map, and in the middle, away from the edges, you suddenly can’t
see what’s supposed to be up or down, mountain or valley. Or, maybe you
can see two worlds at once, two alternative possibilities…the photo negative
and the photo positive. I love the duality of water. It’s so
powerful, yet slips through your fingers; evaporates, freezes, and flows
so mutably, while we stay the same; we humans can’t live in it, but we so
clearly want to live by it. Water is a change agent, especially the sea,
but also one of our most important symbols of cleansing and purification.
Scarification and regeneration cycle endlessly on the beach.
Cecilia, Your writing takes me there. Your journeys into the water and away from the world will always offer solace-- no matter what. A good friend of mine spent a winter weekend "yelling at the sea" after her husband passed away from cancer. I had forgotten that memory until I read you r last entry. You reminded me that the sea is deep and wide for a reason, it can hold our burdens. It's where we go to find/lose ourselves. I spent a week lost in the black sand of Nicaragua and could never, in a thousand years, explain what I discovered there. I think you could. Your photography is so much more accessible when I read the words that lay in the back of your mind. What a gift! More please....
ReplyDeleteThe more I read your words, them more I think that the book my be the perfect venue for this work.
ReplyDelete