Exposure
One of the things I tried in 2022 was to start an art project about the Ocean.
The Ocean is a really fascinating thing. In a lot of ways, water defines Earth as a planet and our ability to exist at all. Arguably, the sun and the presence of water are what makes Earth, well, Earth. 70% of the planet is the Ocean and it's so large that it's difficult to fit it in one's head.
The Ocean is a place of leisure, a superhighway for commerce, a military hot spot, a site of climate change, the location of some of the most successful conservation (whales), a sensory other world (dive underwater and all your senses shift) and, for me, a scary place.
For many years, probably since I was 10 or 12, the Ocean actually frightens me a bit. For some of you who know me that's probably a bit surprising as I love swimming and will take almost any excuse for a dip in summer. But when the water would get a bit deeper than I am tall, I'd start to freak out and panic. It's like almost agoraphobic - there's so much just THERE beneath me, unfathomable depths, anything lurking, I'd just start to panic.
This is a shame because, for many years, I'd also loved the Ocean. I've loved rockpools, ocean creatures, the beach, swimming, body surfing, cliffs, salt water, sand, bonfires on the shore with friends, ice cream after a swim, reading in the sun in my car, walking along the shore, just everything about it. But once I'd cross that zone, about 2 meters deep, a switch flips and I'd panic.
This art project didn't really go anywhere, at least not yet, I had a lot of images of the Ocean, but the sort of stuff I wanted to focus on: this huge infrastructure of shipping, military hardware, alongside this gentle conservation and play, well, it was tricky to encompass it all. I think it'll take maybe 10 years. So I got started, realised it's a long haul, and shelved it for awhile. Taking photos underwater is also really, really hard and really, really expensive. I found the most economical way (old film camera), but there was little opportunity to control basic things like focus - so you get these very unpredictable images. I digress..
But one thing that did go well was how my fear started to evaporate. I remember, maybe in 2020 or 2021, going for a swim at the sheltered beach near my parents' house (Williamstown for the Melbournites), with my goggles on swimming out to a buoy, and just getting worried with the depth.
A few months later, I was swimming alongside rocks and reefs with my camera and my snorkel, solo, really feeling my heart pounding but much less worried.
A few months after that, in Hawaii, I was snorkeling quite happily, often diving a few meters deep to look and check things out. That fear, which had been a constant for me, had just completely changed.
I still would freak out, I think, if I like was in the middle of the Ocean on my own, but for my shore side adventures, things are really, really different. In a good way.
One thing I think we can all be grateful for with art is that we grow through making it. Making stuff requires taking some risks, learning new things and a modicum of reinvention each time you do something new. It's unsurprising, but nonetheless wonderful, that we each grow a little through this.
I want to end with some quick unrelated things:
A few folks have recently sent me messages and emails saying they really enjoy this newsletter. Thanks so much, I really appreciate the feedback. I wasn't sure if anyone would enjoy a quite random, somewhat confessional, unstructured piece of writing each week, but at least a few folks do. Which is lovely.
If you want to look at some of the only great photos of the ocean it's impossible to look past Asako Narahashi