“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
Jean Jacques Cousteau
Sea. Shorelines. Coast. A place that has always been closest to my heart. Even in my childhood I felt a great fascination with its infinite power and uncontrollable energy. Perhaps it is because I grew up in the country without an access to the coast, I developed this attraction. At the end of the day, they do say that we always want what we don’t have. However the love for the sea never left me, even after the move to England, the incredible island surrounded by water.
In my photographs I strive to capture the essence of the sea and its coastline. I love the experience of standing on the shore, taking in the moments defined by ever-changing weather conditions, times of the day and running tides. It makes me feel alive and gives me a sense of freedom. My images are based on my emotional response to this experience.
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
As I slept I heard across my midnight dream
a solemn call of the deserted shore.
Its mournful voices echoed in between
the wind-worn beach and my heart’s deep core.
As I walked through the pale light of the misty dawn,
the night winds sighed, the morning chill upon the frosty air.
Withered the blue vault of the velvet sky, the night was gone.
My heart stood still to behold a scene so fine and fair.
Out of the low clouds bleak and forlorn,
down from the sullen skies onto the tide’s ebb and flow,
softly descended the white flakes of snow;
in patches they clung to the bare sands below.
Never shall I forget the break of day beside the winter sea,
alone with the dawn and sombre beauty of the empty shore.
Wave after wave, their silver crests breaking beneath my feet,
the sea’s throbbing heartbeat resounds in mine for evermore.
Come along with me,
Come along to the distant sea,
Where pretty shells sing gently to the breeze,
And shiny pebbles whisper words so sweet.
Take a walk with me,
Take a walk to the restless sea,
Where the silky sand, so dark and deep
Will softly sink beneath our feet.
Walk down to the sea with me,
Where the salt and wind will kiss our skin.
Where the fickle waves, deep blue and crystal clear
Bury their jewels, piece by piece.
Come along and search with me
For little treasures, hidden in the wind-swept sea,
Trinkets of shells and pebbles, and remembered dreams,
So pure and simple… precious, yet all for free.
“Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.”
The day was bright with the sparkling sun,
the fickle waves and clouds above merged into one.
The wild wind blowing, strong and free
set the birds’ wings flying over the silver sea.
smell the sea, and feel the sky
let your soul and spirit fly, into the mystic…
“A fragrant breeze wandered up from the quiet sea, trailed along the beach, and drifted back to the sea again, wondering where to go next. On a mad impulse it went up to the beach again. It drifted back to sea.”
At the edge of an empty shore,
Tangled in stars we stand, all alone.
As the light drifts through the still of the night,
In silence we speak,
Beyond words, across the deep blue tide.
The sound of two hearts beating strong,
Breaking the calm of the quiet dawn.
Beating together in silent conversation,
In stillness we speak,
Beyond words, across the deep blue ocean.
“The sea contains so many colors. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening. Sometimes it looks almost red. Or it will turn the color of old coins. Right now the shadows of clouds are dragging across it, and patches of sunlight are touching down everywhere. White strings of gulls drag over it like beads. It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.”
“I find it incredibly amazing how at every sunset, the sky is a different shade. No cloud is ever in the same place. Each day is a new masterpiece. A new wonder. A new memory.”
Leave a light on in the wild
Cause I’m coming in
A little blind
Dreaming of a lighthouse in the woods
Shining a little light to bring us back home
When to find you in the backyard
Hiding behind all busy lives
Dreaming of a light house in the woods
To help us get back into the world
Cause I know
I’ve seen you before
Won’t you shine
A little light
On us now
Won’t you shine a little light
In your own backyard
My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too.”
Vincent van Gogh
“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
The sea is but another sky,
The sky a sea as well,
And which is earth, and which the heavens
The eye can scarcely tell.
“In still moments by the sea life seems large-drawn and simple. It is there we can see into ourselves.”
“And the sea will grant each man new hope and sleep brings dreams of home…”
I have sea foam in my veins,
for I understand
the language of waves.
Le Testament d’Orphee
The darkly shining salt sea drops
Streamed as the waves clashed on the shore;
The beach, with all its organ stops
Pealing again, prolonged the roar.
The leaden sky is charged with thunder,
heavy with sadness, it becomes impenetrable ink
that tints the darkness with a blue shade of wonder,
into which the mournful clouds quietly sink.
As the storm passes, the sky cries in torrents of rain,
the sleepless wind sings a chilling song to a drumming rhythm,
a silent blues about the end of a season’s reign,
and every raindrop becomes a poem unwritten.
The soft-toned clock upon the stair chimed three –
Too sweet for sleep, too early yet to rise.
In restful peace I lay with half-closed eyes,
Watching the tender hours go dreamily;
The tide was flowing in; I heard the sea
Shivering along the sands; while yet the skies
Were dim, uncertain, as the light that lies
Beneath the fretwork of some wild-rose tree
Within the thicket gray. The chanticleer
Sent drowsy calls across the slumbrous air;
In solemn silence sweet it was to hear
My own heart beat … Then broad and deep and fair –
Trembling in its new birth from heaven’s womb –
One crimson shaft of dawn sank thro’ my room.
The golden sea its mirror spreads
Beneath the golden skies,
And but a narrow strip between
Of land and shadow lies.
The cloud-like rocks, the rock-like clouds,
Dissolved in glory float,
And, midway of the radiant flood,
Hangs silently the boat.
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.”
May your love for me be
the scent of the evening sea
through a quiet window
so i do not have to run
or chase or fall
… to feel you
all i have to do