Guided by Materials

When I walk the beach, eyes on the ground, I am waiting for something to catch my eye. Here on the south coast, the beaches are shingle, made of stones and only at mid to low tide does the sea recede enough to reveal sand. The stones range in colour from dark grey to brown to white.

In the last twelve months, I have begun to notice that there is a wider diversity of material - living and dead, man-made and natural - than I had previously realised despite living here for the last seven years. I know now that the black plastic-y pods that appear to have four 'arms' and commonly known as mermaid's purses are the seed sacs of skates,. The pale spherical ball, light as air, and made of joined cells I now know are the seed sacs of the common whelk, a sea snail whose shell I have picked up and brought home many times. I have learnt the names of different seaweeds, noticing which ones appear in higher quantities at different times of year and I have begun to learn the names of different birds that live along the coast here.

In other words, beachcombing has deepened my connection to my local environment and made me appreciate its diversity. Even if my eyes are on the ground and not taking in the wider vista.

Similarly, it has given me a more child-like sense of wonder. Who else, apart from children, looks at the ground so often and finds beauty in a shell or a strangely coloured stone or the wind and sea sculptured contours of a piece of wood? Bringing things home from the beach, little pieces of treasure, makes each trip seem worthwhile. I never seem to come home empty-handed.

Sometimes I see something on the beach and know immediately what I want to do with it. Its shape somehow suggests its future as a piece of art or sculpture. Above is an owl that began with the piece of wood that is its body, unmistakably owl-like in shape. The head was already in a box of assorted pieces and the camouflage colours of the forest seemed perfect - the eyes were even apparent without me having to add them. All that was needed was to find it a perch and mount it on a piece of board. 

Another piece that almost made itself was the two squid. I found the pieces of wood that are their bodies in the same place on the beach and knew what they would be straightaway. Again, the shape and contours suggested the final form of the piece. I bought the blue paint for the background pieces and then painted the bodies of the squid. Finally, I just had to add some seaweed to give it some feeling of depth.

Then there was the smallest thing I've made - the shark's head mounted on wood and metal. It is a piece of bone that just perfectly resembled a shark's head. It sits on my kitchen windowsill. I am no less fond of it for being only two inches high. Small things can be more perfect than something large scale.

What I am sure you will find, too, is that sometimes an idea comes from the materials towards you. It's always exciting to work like this because it feels pre-ordained. If I want to make something but don't know what, then I like to lay everything out on a large table and look for inspiration. The first step, likewalking the beach, is noticing - a much underappreciated skill...