Salt, dedication, adventure.
Updated: Oct 30
A place which inspires....
Salt air, chattering cables, the wind moaning and shaking the rigging.
I love a blustery walk along the River Blyth boatyard on Blackshore.
Not pretty Southwold beach huts, but old, black-tarred huts, zesty, rusted roofs and bright doors in blue and red. Once they would all have been the domain of the fishing industry. Now a little spruced up, they still manage to look 'real': not overtaken by Homes and Gardens...
Walking by massive industrial buildings I can feel and hear the dedicated hard work going on, and see over time, decrepit hulks returned to their seaworthy, beautiful best. It makes me smile.Fine, thorough, dedicated work!
Regularly this place enters the work I make. Boat hulls appear.......their rounded shapes, colours and worn surface textures. They belong here. They are taken care of here. People work hard to make them beautiful again.
And all the associated forms that lie scattered or assembled in an orderly fashion pop up in the compositions: blue fenders, lithe ropes, orange buoys..... essential collaborators with the medium of water. They play with it, rest on it, work with it, and are tested to their limits by its power; characters in this scene of risk, work, adventure, and pleasure. Waiting for the next journey into wildness.
Peaceful or sliced through by raw winds, Blackshore calms; or mirrors my darkness under its leaden skies.
What is it about chaotic, messy hard-working places that feels like home? People chipping away at the tasks they understand and are committed to. Something contained and undramatic that restores; makes broken, functional?.
Journeys are made. Leavings. Safe returns. Losses. Dangers survived. Lives claimed.
A girl grown in industrial landlocked northern heartlands feels at home on and in water’s restless movement.
An archaic connection?