I didn’t grow up with the sea on my doorstep. That’s only a luxury I’ve gotten to enjoy since moving to Hout Bay. Instead, my childhood was characterised by indoor living, shifting between school, my parent’s takeaway, and home. We rarely went out. Never went on holiday, and my three visits to the coast in my childhood were fleeting. More memorable experiences of the sea were mementos brought to me by friends – a smooth rock, some sea glass, or a small bottle of beach sand and shells.
When I finally got to experience and explore more of the coast as a young adult, it fascinated me. The crashing waves were both terrifying and awe inspiring. (Mostly because my parents had a strong fear of water and continually warned us of all of the perils that the sea held) Despite this, I wanted to experience it. Such power, such beauty, craggy cliffs being battered by pounding surf, rocks smoothed by the rolling motion of the sea.
As I started to take photo’s it was nature that inspired me. While wildlife is my passion, living in Cape Town, those scenes are far away. But on my doorstep is one of the most incredible coastlines. Turquoise blue seas on a calm day, or a swirling gray mass when the North Westerly storms blow through.
My artist’s eye drew me to the rocky shoreline, I started experimenting with different angles and techniques to capture what I felt. And then I started to get philosophical…. you know a man on a beach with rocks and waves. It happens!
I started to see myself in the rocks as a human being, constantly being tossed, moulded and influenced by waves. It was a test of what I was made of. The colours, the textures, the shape of the rocks are all influenced by what’s inside of it and how well it holds up to the elements. There’s nothing predictable about life, even if you’re strong, you’ll get knocked down, rolled over. It takes strength and resilience to endure.
And so with this metaphor in mind, I’m constantly drawn back to the rocky shoreline of the Atlantic coast. No two scenes are ever the same. Sometimes they’re dramatic, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes tranquil. Each time I go back, I seem to discover a little more about myself. Seeing the rocks piled up, are we meant to be in community? It can make life easier, but sometime we choose to struggle alone anyway.
My collection of Rocky Abstracts is one of my favourites, an exploration of South Africa’s stunning coastline, an invitation to explore more.
