Longshore Drift
Two sets of banners; 'Onshore drift' and Offshore Drift'.
Exhibited at St Mary's Allotments Art Trail, Leamington Spa, 2021. Curated by artist and concealed curator Tammy Woodrow
I've been litho-curious for as long as I can remember. My current obsession with pebbles is fed whenever I go for a walk or visit a beach. I love finding fossils. The timeframes involved wherein life becomes preserved in stone is a deepness of time I find staggering. It gives perspective on my own being and provides a comforting sense of the persistence of life within the earth's systems.
However, although stone seems static it is far from still. The processes of stone death that we witness; the breaking down, wearing away and the pull of gravity, are usually slow enough to be invisible to us.
The larger images show a fossil in a flint pebble I found on Rye Harbour beach on the South coast. I casually turned it over, only to come face to face with a creature from another time, right there in the palm of my hand. The smaller images are of a flint I found in a field local to home in Warwickshire where I walk quite often. Flint oxygenates incredibly slowly. Preserving moments of fragmentation in the difference between its weathered, chalky shell and shiny interior.
Exhibited at St Mary's Allotments Art Trail, Leamington Spa, 2021. Curated by artist and concealed curator Tammy Woodrow
I've been litho-curious for as long as I can remember. My current obsession with pebbles is fed whenever I go for a walk or visit a beach. I love finding fossils. The timeframes involved wherein life becomes preserved in stone is a deepness of time I find staggering. It gives perspective on my own being and provides a comforting sense of the persistence of life within the earth's systems.
However, although stone seems static it is far from still. The processes of stone death that we witness; the breaking down, wearing away and the pull of gravity, are usually slow enough to be invisible to us.
The larger images show a fossil in a flint pebble I found on Rye Harbour beach on the South coast. I casually turned it over, only to come face to face with a creature from another time, right there in the palm of my hand. The smaller images are of a flint I found in a field local to home in Warwickshire where I walk quite often. Flint oxygenates incredibly slowly. Preserving moments of fragmentation in the difference between its weathered, chalky shell and shiny interior.
