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Resting Forms

Just as we are bound to place, we are obliged to change, the festering mass shifts, finds itself tucked tight, hugging the crevice, that far South corner where all the scum is left, the collapsing land doing its best to hide our shit.

This piece continues the conversation with the same landscape, now only different, at ease, revealing snippets of the time spent within it, and parts of it. It is a study, intimate and respectful, into a sample of the Cornish coast, a stretch of liminality between the high and low.

The ceramic forms, coiled by hand into buoy-like things, have been carried down the cliffs of Whitsand Bay, dropped and rolled along the jagged rocks reaching up from beneath the sand, and carried back up before being fired and hung, to be stared at like Goose barnacles in the sun.

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