I have been coming to the beach since I was a small child. I brought my children to the ocean or lake as they grew. Mostly these beaches were shallow for a far distance, with gentle waves. They were full of families with small children paddling along the shore- beautiful - safe - sunny - sandy.
Not so on the narrow spit of sand that is the North Carolina Outer Banks. Here on Salvo, the waves break in thunderous foam right by the shore, rushing upwards to carve small sand cliffs. There are deep drop offs, strong currents and rip tides. The beach houses are set way behind dunes and not visable as you walk, giving you the illusion of untouched spaces.
This morning when I woke, it was overcast and the wind was blowing strongly. One cup of coffee and then I could not stay inside any longer. I walked the beach for a great distance, wading through surf that threatened to knock me off my feet as it rushed up around my knees. The waves, breaking so close to shore next to where I stood, brought the power of the sea within touching distance.
I walked and walked and walked until, salt sprayed and sand encrusted, I felt a part of the Wild Sea, the whipping wind and the tumbling ocean. Often I stopped and arms spread wide, I invited this powerful tumult into my deepest being. Taking it in again and again and again to become a conduit of this power and allow it to flow back into my paintings.