my pacific coast muse

Tag: ocean waves

to bob

I grew up on the Connecticut shore of Long Island Sound. I thought of the water as an ocean, and swam in it at every opportunity. I traveled up and down the eastern seaboard up through my twenties, and experienced the Atlantic Ocean unbuffered by Long Island. However, nothing prepared me for the fierce and incessant energy of the Pacific Ocean.

I naively moved west thinking that I would regularly swimming along northern California’s coast. Happily, I received plenty of warning before diving in: the undercurrents, the rip tides, the sneaker waves, and the occasional sharks. And of course the icy temperatures, which mean a stiff and heavy and expensive rubber swimsuit from head to toe. This latter part really put me off. Part of the allure of swimming in the ocean is being naked or at least near naked and getting completely wet! Also, swimming is not really a thing here. There are no small islands or reefs to swim to, no boats moored offshore, no rafts or spots to pull out.

For the past six years or so, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time down at the shore, mostly peering into tide pools. I’ve photographed the coast during winter storms, and spent hours watching harbor seals weave through the kelp. But this past summer, after more than twenty years since moving to this coast, I finally went in. Once a week, at 9:30 am, a small group meets at a cove in a state park, and goes out “bobbing.” Just hanging out in the Pacific, wearing wetsuits and snorkel gear. Twelve months of the year. The chief instigator of this group is a naturalist, an interpreter for the state park system, and has a good idea of what’s happening around us, no matter the season. It’s mesmerizing, in the best sense of that word. Harbor seals come to say hi, and herons look even more spectacular from out in the water. It feels so great to be IN the ocean, even in a giant thick layer of neoprene.

Hamonshū

Screen Shot 2018-10-04 at 12.06.40 PM
Screen Shot 2018-10-04 at 11.55.47 AMThis book was published in 1903 as a resource guide for water designs that could be used by craftsmen. The artist, Mori Yuzan, worked in the Nihonga style, which emphasized the beauty of traditional Japanese aesthetics during a period of infatuation with the west. I am infatuated with Hamonshū! I’ve shot thousands of photographs of waves along the Pacific coast over the past few years – 2485 on one day alone for Pacific Falls – and then poured over them for hours, weaving water together. I’m amazed by the accuracy in these stylized drawings of specific water formations. I would love to revisit this book, maybe recreate it in a new form. I think I shall…

There are three volumes, all published by the Smithsonian Libraries via the Internet Archive. Free libraries: the best use of the internet!  Thank you for publishing this, Smithsonian!!!!

Screen Shot 2018-10-04 at 12.05.10 PM

Screen Shot 2018-10-04 at 12.06.18 PM

Screen Shot 2018-10-04 at 12.07.09 PM

 

Scenic Overlook

copepodilia-fix
The Fix and Copepodilia in Scenic Overlook at Patricia Sweetow Gallery

Back in May, I had an exhibit at Patricia Sweetow Gallery in San Francisco. A few of the projects already discussed here were part of the exhibit:  The Fix, Copepodilia, Pacific Falls, and Collision. I also showed three new selections from a series of videos called “In the Time of…” which were inspired by Pool The works were all about the small yet essential creatures easily overlooked in a vast landscape.

These little videos are about the experience of gazing into a tide pool, and the timelessness of that experience. Maybe timelessness isn’t the right word…  Anyhow, In the Time of… led to another video work called Eclipse and that has led to a new idea for a larger video installation. More on all of this later, but in the meantime:

In the time of Anemones

I wonder, sometimes, if this obsession with tide pools is foolish. Has everyone done this as a kid, laid on their bellies and stared into a rocky little pool filled with strange life forms? This past weekend I was talking with two adults in their 70s. One was an architect and designer, the other a french scholar, both professors for many years in Montreal. My granddaughter came over to talk with us, and I mentioned that I was taking her to the tide pools later that day. They asked, “What’s a tide pool?”  I stuttered. How to describe these universal worlds…? My granddaughter offered that there are lots of starfish in tide pools and they said that they’d never seen a living star fish, only photos – not even video!

In the time of Stars (hermits scuttle over baby starfish)

Our oceans are vast and take up most of the planet, but we’re small in comparison, and need to make our way to the edges to experience the saltwater shoreline. With privatization, industry, ports, pollution, highways, etc. it’s not easy to experience the shore even when one lives close to an ocean. And many shorelines have marshes and other intertidal ecosystems, but no tide pools to speak of. So I guess there’s relevance in attempting to share this experience. It’s a big part of what art does, right? It takes us to places (both physical and not) and give us experiences that we will otherwise never have? And then, hopefully, tap into our capacity for empathy? Cause us to stop, slow down, muse, maybe have a revelation?

In the time of Hermits

Bass Biology

I lost sight of this blog, buried in a big project and a flurry of exhibits. More later on “Scenic Overlook” and other exhibits, but this summer has been completely turned over to a large commission for the new Bass Biology Building at Stanford.

High resolution photographs of ocean waves – color reversed and knitted together – have grown into a large mural-sized image covering both glass and solid walls in the building’s main lobby, as well as the windows of a small adjacent conference room. Below is a mock-up and some working photos, already well out-of-date. Deadlines coming up! My favorite part of this project is that the small conference room image will fog and clear in syncopation with the tides: opaque at high tide, clear at low.

I’m reading Moby Dick, finally, as an accompaniment, after reading In the Heart of the Sea, a history of the true story that inspired Moby Dick, beautifully written by Nathaniel Philbrick. So great. Plus reminiscing about and missing those east coast chowders.20180308-Outside - Looking at Main Lobby-FLATbass-workingIMG_20180724_172857

Cerulean Blues

June and July and nearly August…

As I listed these months, counting the time since my last post, a cover of “Fly Like an Eagle” by Tony Crown started playing in the background. It was a slow ghostly version of the old Steve Miller Band song, never heard this version before. Perfect synchronicity. Time keeps on slipping…

But I haven’t been sleeping by the sea. Gabriel Harrison chose a number of works during a studio visit in early spring, most of them recent, for a solo exhibit at Stanford called Cerulean Blues. He put together a beautiful installation, especially for Copepodilia: 64 images varying in size from 10″ x 8″ to 50″ x 40″. It was up for much of July and just closed yesterday.

One work was unresolvable – the photographs of collisions along the coast. I’ll figure it out eventually, but for now, I pared it down to just one image, same title as the show: Cerulean Blues.

cerulean.jpg
Cerulean Blues   pigment print on Arches Aquarelle   40″ x 60″   2017
Cerulean Installation 1
most of Copepodilia 2017, with Pool 2017 in the foreground
sandbox
Sandbox   sorted sand on birch boxes   33″ x 103″   2017
Blues Sand Pool
Cerulean Blues 2017, Sandbox 2017, and Pool 2017 in the foreground
Wind Pool Cope
Homage to the Wind 2012, Pool 2017, and a bit of Copepodilia 2017

© 2024 Stillwater

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑