I've said before that I don't consider myself an artistic type. I'm a maker for sure, but that finely honed aesthetic sense is missing in me. I start with what works and what's beautiful comes second every time. Second, or not at all.
I have huge admiration for those who can imagine up beauty and go about making it. Who surround themselves with things that reflect that inner landscape of harmonising visuals. I know when I am in their spaces that it resonates within me - it is real for sure - but I am just not that kind of creator.
But during this last holiday as I spent a bit of time indulging my inner rock nerd at the beach I thought a lot about how much my sense of beauty tracks in natural environments. The attraction I feel to some of these pebbles comes close to how I feel about really incredible and inspired works of art. Well beyond words, holding these things, looking at their colours and forms, feeling their surfaces fills me with emotion.
I absolutely love them.
I blogged about my first sample collecting journey here, and my lack of understanding why I did it, and about the deep emotions investing in these wee bottles.
I added to my collection in Bali, some black sand (which I find, quite frankly nothing short of magical),
some lovely volcanic beach pebbles
and this odd spine found floating in the ocean. The locals we asked assured us it was from a pig, but that seems a complete fantasy to me. Sure a sea creature of some kind?
In this latest trip there were some bigger pebbles in Mallacoota - the absolutely most perfect one I picked up when we first arrived has gone missing. But I love the stripes and colours of these ones too.
And then at Cape Conran these stunningly tiny pebbles - the black ones are like velvet they are so smooth and matt and the white ones just fill me with light joy.
It's not just rocks. The green canopy over the top of the tea trees on the dunes is magnetic to my gaze, and the waves of green around the distant river shores expands my chest in a way I find quite inexplicable. But my photographs just can't capture them, and I can't bring them home, or touch them or stroke their textured surfaces.
By comparison so much of my home like is visually jarring and ugly, the textures are wrong and jumbled. I don't know that there is anything I can do about that, in a grand solution kind of sense, but I'm feeling very attuned to the colours and textures of the wilds still and looking for ways I can do more than just play with rocks.