Written Doodles from my sketchbook...
The sky, the earth, the sand, the sea. At Southwold on a warm day it almost all seems one. The temperature of the grey-gold sea matching that of the breeze blowing over from Walberswick, warmed by Sizewell sitting there on the edge of the ocean.
Great white slabs of cloud march across the big sky, water, beach, dunes forming the thin line at the bottom that holds it all in. A skinny ridge of grassy dune the only thing stopping the sand from slipping and spilling over onto the streets, onto the marshes beyond.
I wonder how that last spiky green line of defence has shifted over the years, or the sandbanks out in the sea and the mud further upstream. And would the spires of Dunwich if they still rose from that drowned headland today. obscure the shining white dome and great granite grey chunk of the power station on the horizon.
We all float here on the skin of the earth* for the day. The human flotsam, baking in the sun like the shrinking shards of sea lettuce washed out of the north sea.
is taken from the work of architectural group CHORA. It lives often in the my imagination as i comprehend new or familiar surroundings.
* The idea of the skin of the earth