Surface

C.G. Its immensity + its calm, the calm (of surface). At least that’s how it seems to me, always, when I encounter the ocean: it is calm. It is infinitely accepting. Not acceptance in its anthropomorphic sense but literally. Not a form of kindness, but the absorption of everything that comes in contact with it.

All the patterns that appear upon the surface of the ocean and movement of the water itself is brought about by the wind in all its gymnastic manifestations or vibrations. Water from all the oceans and every sea is constantly moving across the world in great migratory currents replenishing and changing themselves through this exchange.

What is visible in terms of the surface of the ocean remains endlessly fascinating, whereas there’s all that is unseen lurking beyond this visibility or below the water’s surface and which ignites so many fantasies and imaginings.

Throughout my childhood I would submerge myself in the sea according to different parts of my body. As a toddler, I was told to not go deeper than my knees and a few years later no deeper than my belly button (NAVEL NAVAL) until I was up to my neck in the water in my teens. And all the time I would spend hours snorkeling over the surface, peering down into the water upon all the various seaweed and rock formations.

Once in Byron Bay, I was in a bar overlooking the beach with a friend, who at the time had a problem with alcohol so we were only drinking soft drinks. At one moment, we both glanced out of the large windows in front of the bar towards the sea and about fifty meters away saw the huge tail of a whale coming out of the water in what seemed like slow motion. It then hit the water's surface with a huge splash and disappeared. We were instantly intoxicated by the utterly unexpected circumstances of such an oceanic vision.

M.B.For me, the threshold appears mostly when the ocean is still: then there is an amazing velocity. In its viscosity too, the still ocean is something else, like jelly.This transitional moment of the surface marks something that fascinates me :

Being above the surface
and below the surface simultaneously.

In Bonaire, the sea is very transparent. When swimming out into the sea, there is a point where all of a sudden the bottom of the sea deepens so abruptly, it goes from seeing the seabed clearly, to a huge black hole, without any transition, it completely disappears from view. Reaching this point left me feeling really scared. Even though it has no physical consequences for my swimming on the surface. Still, I almost did not dare to swim past this point. I felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

I was by myself on the beach + throwing rocks. I would just sit + watch the ripples the rocks made on the surface. I still love walking on the seashore, feeling the wind on my face + listening to the waves. I just sit + watch the horizon and what is behind the horizon. It opens up a lot of ideas about how movement occurs. From France, you can see England from across the channel. When I was in Marseille → I was thinking of Algeria when looking out into the sea. There’s a moment of connecting through the horizon.

Imagine that you are floating on the water's surface. While floating, and with your eyes closed, imagine you're listening to the songs of whales below you.