Clunk

Not warm, not cold. Not bright, not dull. Not bad.

I have been reassessing some of the works in progress and ideas still in the sketchbook. The work is occupying an uneasy place between the made and the conceptual - an unease which is intentional - I just want to clarify where I am.

This morning, for no particular reason, I walked at the exact point where the beach meets the sea. Wet sand - neither land nor water. This suggested a sense of uncertainty, and it struck me that perhaps it is no bad thing. One side or the other could lead to complacency, which could lead to, well, nowhere. The struggle has value. Besides, it's exciting. Waves were washing in and out, and my feet got wet.

I have mentioned that I often write with metaphors in mind. There are different reasons for that. Sometimes it is just a way of writing. Sometimes it is a way of negotiating my way through issues, and sometimes it is a way of saying things out loud.

This morning I realised that the walk itself is often a form of metaphor. 'Clunk' is the sound of that realisation falling into place.

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