Strands | A Breton beach

The littoral, the space between the tides. A place to walk, to wander and to gaze upon the ocean. Lost in thought as the sand gives way beneath the feet, pools of salt water flow around the toes.



Here we see the flotsam and jetsam of twelve of our hours deposited as if for our appraisal, as the tide recedes, lapping back and forth organic material along with our discards are left.

But before each character finally comes to rest it has a final gesture, a flourish. Its mark upon the sand remains, waiting for the tide to return to write a new story on the strand line. Shot in 'the golden hour' in the last heat of the sun. The black deposits in the sand might be manganese, iron or other heavy minerals.

I have begun to build an 'ocean tank' to attempt to simulate the interaction of the components found on the beach. Initially large steel plates will be etched. Work in progress.

Stone | Millennia in the Making 

I return time and time again to the same shores, both nearby in North Cornwall and further afield on the coast of Brittany, photographing the rocks along the strand line.

Travelling north east, leaving the rocky coves of Penwith,  the sandy bays of St Ives and Godrevy, and dunes of Hayle behind, eventually the coastline again becomes more remote and intimate.

Our stretch of the North Cornwall Coast really begins at Trebarwith Strand, on past Boscatle, Beeny cliffs, Strangles, and so to Crackington Haven. Here we find the contorted strata of ancient rock formations edging the coast, then on to Widemouth Bay. As its name suggests, a wide bay of sand and shingle, but once again backed by rock formations that at twilight might convince the visitor into thinking they are in another world. Beyond the beaches of Bude we enter Devon to find the coves of Northcott Mouth, Sandymouth and the romantic Coombe Valley. Leaving the listening station of Morewenstow we arrive at Hartland with its huge spherical rocks, so similar to those of Priest Cove, Cape Cornwall. We have seemingly come full-circle.

One could make drawings of the rocks, stones, and marine life and them produce paintings to resemble the images seen here. But during countless visits to these beaches I came to realise that it was not simply the beauty of the formations as we see them now that interested me. The geology behind these forms has been at work for millennia, laying down sediment, compressing the rock, folding, fracturing. Then hard quartz and other minerals have been forced upwards, along the weaknesses and fissures lying at angles to the beds. The layers of rock may then have undergone more movement, more disruption, cracking and folding creating new lines of weakness. These, in turn, were injected with crystalline material which slowly cooled over thousands of years. Finally the action of the ocean took its turn to find new opportunities to sculpt the rocks to create the forms we now see.

For me, this describes the ideal creative process, which in a way I attempt to mimic in my working practices. Clearly it is impossible to harness the powers of nature but it is the idea that what we see here is 'consequential' that interests me. That is, whatever remains visible to us is as a result of an action - a process. The results of the earths powers are not contrived, there was no grand design at the outset, no plan. This, I strive for in my creative output. Process is all, barely in control and seeking to make interventions only where invitations appear.

Seaweed | A Split Personality 

Returning to the Ile Grande on the north Brittany coast has become something of a pilgrimage, kayaking through the drifts of seaweed when the tide is in, walking through the rockpools at low tide.


The north coast of Brittany is a very special place, in particular the Rose Granite Coast - a romantic landscape, constantly morphing as the weather and tides osscilate with each passing hour.

Spending weeks on end in this place is hard to describe, it takes you over, the days merging into a continuum.
These photographs were all taken in June 2022, in 2024 we spent a whole month here, witnessing a complete cycle of the moon and tides.

In the spring of 2024 I came across the work of Bryan Wynter. I wish I had met him. He was a keen kayaker. This is what he had to say about his work;

“A stream finds it way over rocks. The force of the stream, and the quality of the rocks determine the stream’s bed. This is turn modifies the course of the stream, channelling out new sluces and hollows. The stream erodes the rock, the rock deflects the stream, until, at some high point, the stream bursts its banks and falls into a ravine. The dry stream bed, carved and hollowed, remains. Its form contains its history. There are no rocks or streams in my paintings but a comparable process of dynamic versus static elements has attended their development and brought about their final form.”











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