The beach huts above are on the North Sea coast, where I'll be spending some time over the next three weeks as I travel north up the coast. The beach huts look out across the sea towards the Netherlands. The entire coast, from Kent to Scotland has a unique presence, it's wild and it feels very strange. One reason it feels strange is that it used to be land that was swallowed up by the sea, a northern Atlantis called
Doggerland, home to tens of thousands of people before it disappeared.
I've also been spending time creating a
Facebook page. I've always been sceptical of the usefulness of Facebook (and Twitter). Do people use it to communicate, or as a measure of their own popularity? Anyway, I'd like to use Facebook to engage with people who read this blog and others who share my interests. Please visit my
Facebook page by the
clicking links and join me.
Tim, I totally agree this coast does have a strange erie feel to it no matter where you are, I have spent many hours nay days taking photographs along this coast and it never ceases to fascinate me it is as if time has stood still in some of the smaller communities, I will be there again this next week as we are staying on the broads again. have fun and maybe i will bump into you, who knows.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure liking the mood of these beach hut photographs. The color of the sea grasses and the mood of the sky nicely reflect the wildness you noted. I had no idea about Doggerland and its history. Fascinating information. Enjoy your August travels!
ReplyDeleteOh, and regarding Facebook. I'm not on FB so won't be able to "friend" you there. But just about everyone else in the world IS there, and I'm sure they'll enjoy keeping up with you.
ReplyDeleteAs long as I'm back in the comment box, I'll say again how magnetic these particular beach hut photographs are, especially the last three (the three without blue huts). Seeing the all-white huts reminds me of the all-white photo set you posted for sale recently, which in turn reminded me of another verse from Mary O'Neill's book on color for children:
White is a dove and lily of the valley, and a puddle of milk spilled in an alley. A ship's sail, a kite's tail, a wedding veil-- hailstones and halibut bones and some people's telephones. The hottest and most blinding light is white. And breath is white, when you blow it out on a frosty night. White is the shining absence of all color, then absence is white, out of touch, out of sight. White is marshmallow and vanilla ice cream, and the part you can't remember in a dream. White is the sound of a light foot walking, white is a pair of whispers talking. White is the beautiful broken lace, of snowflakes falling on your face. You can smell white in a country room, toward the end of May in the cherry bloom.
Moody beach huts, empty in the winter light, biting winds blowing round their lonely corners, sand lashed against their wooden walls by wild blustering gales. Tufted grasses whispering of land long ago while northern light fades over waves of greyed lace. My heart lives here....
ReplyDeleteYour prints evoke poetry!