This beach lies just to the west of the harbour in Mogán in Grand Canaria. The image, its composition, and the relationships within it, offer me an opportunity to reflect on a more human arrangement of space and form.
I am a fragment of seaworthiness, robbed of my watery context, denied the opportunity to flourish. I bear the burden of emptiness, carrying precisely zero fishermen. I’m guessing someone had a communications strategy for the sign-space between those two poles… but the wind had a strategy of its own.
And that sphere — is it some kind of anchor? Or a floating buoy? Maybe one of us will leave an educated guess in the comments below. But for the moment the ambiguity resonates with me. Sinking and swimming are playground pals, having learned to take turns.
And yet: is there a hint (in these hollows) of hope?
Could those posts be a soccer net? This sphere an autumn moon? This fading paint a affirmation of an enduring dance between primary and secondary hues?
It is what it is. But it is also what you make of it.
Pivoting around this throbbing heart of metal, we hear the groans and scrapes of a weary but joyful past, now given a time to rest and repose, and to serve as a new a kind of (spiritual) vessel.
This journey ain’t over, people. It’s just getting started.