Views From The Cabin

Views from the front of Old Skippers' Cabin.

The Blank Canvas Beach

This was the first beach Joanne told me go and look at when I first arrived, and I was amazed at how smooth and perfectly unspoilt by people or footprints it was. I thought of it as a blank canvas, and instantly began to imagine what I could write or draw upon its surface in the name of my first attempt at"Land Art". It was only after passing other such beaches and weighing up the social and ethical considerations of depriving other walkers of also viewing these untouched beaches that both Joanne and I decided that to write upon the large visible beaches would be the equivalent of coastal graffiti, and spoil the view for others.

Although anything written or drawn would be washed away each day by the tide we both agreed that this beach was too far too large and too public, and any sand writing or land art would have to be far smaller and less visible so as not to spoil the public view. This beach is about 250 metres wide, can you imagine writing something across that size for everyone to see!

(The location is so remote it's only passed by a few dozen walkers each day, but still I think you see the point)

Untitled

I couldn't decide which of these two photos I liked best so I've posted them both. The sky seemed full of a surreal mixture of blues and purples which looked like a beautiful painting. Now I understand why Cornwall has its own School of Art, and why so many painters have been drawn to its unique coastline light over the decades. There are actually about half a dozen surfers in these photos but they are infinitesimally small.

Three Flowers Breathing

I have been recently reading a book on the creativity and significance of numbers, and how to use numbers as means of focusing attention and noticing connections within the limitless distractions and stimulus of everyday life. My interest is particularly drawn towards the numbers three and seven; and amidst a whole row of wild flowers along the side of a field these three flowers had somehow survived the mass strangulation of the weeds and various fauna, and had grown several feet higher than the rest.

Reflecting upon this image now several weeks after, for me it is a reminder that I cannot expect to breathe fresh air or completely evolve as a person if I remain unconsciously restricted in the manic hubris of the metropolis.

The Art of Nature

While Joanne and I were writing in the sand I came across this. I found it an incredible example of the simple elegance and organic beauty found only in nature. It instantly reminded me of something I read by Ralph Waldo Emerson, that "the first and best form of art is nature itself".
(Society and Solitude; 1912)

It was just lying there on the beach being constantly washed over by the tide yet refusing to budge or break, a single strand of organic seaweed matter that had miraculously created a heart-like shape (so it seemed to me) by entwining its ends through each other like a shoelace that resembled one of Picasso's elegant single line drawings.

Its three loops also reminded me of a Japanese "Haiku". Little three part poems of Japanese philsosophy that Joanne introduced me to.