Being Your Eyes For Swell

Being Your Eyes for Swell 2007 Swell: Currumbin Sculpture Festival For Fred Picture us arm in arm, strolling, the crunch of sand underfoot, the scent of sea air, the touch of sea wind on our skin, again on the beach at Currumbin. Your eyes are failing now yet, with my words and your imagination, with the senses of a beachcomber- we’re finding treasures as we search out the sculptures The Surging Wonder by Nicole Byrne I read, is a filigreed horn curving from the grass, from where its shadow forms a crescent. Comprised of all sizes of welded washers- it is a silvery moon or, an ancient rhino horn that has been honey -combed by the elements Speaking of ancient this “Ammonite” by Daniel Clemmett seems so authentic; a fossil in the round, metal parts tightly coiled as if a million years had past- It shimmers in the sunlight - an affirmation to time. This giant bird’s nest made of sticks is in the right setting It has a backdrop of bare trees, as if the material had been selected from the surrounds. Makes you want to look up for a giant parent bird perhaps a pterodactyl. It seems hollow waiting for the eggs. Now we are looking at the horizon of the sea and the sea is gazing back at us through eye apertures, blue and eerie. It is a giant face mask probably concrete but as brown as a coconut shell and it appears Polynesian A carving rising from the sand as if left by a lost tribe. Here is the Queen of Hearts -a red heart-shaped bodice with slender white arms outstretched to the clouds and blue sky. She towers over us as if waiting to dance on the waves. We move on to a stone rose with perfectly marbled petals. it is called the Rhythm of Love – and listed for a small fortune- $30,000 in the catalog. A sculpture of a coral stand entwined around a clown fish- adds whimsy and truth of nature’s form I can’t help feeling that Stempost would have evoked memories of your days at sea The timber is curved like a ships bow and a silver wrap is whipped as if by a strong wind. Here are mosaic footprints set down in the sand large and solid to water’s edge- symbolic of waves not being able to wash away, traces of our passing The Big Bad Banksia men are here with twisted stick arms. They call back the stories of bush babies and childhood enchantment. If I had a spare $3,000 I’d buy one for the garden. At the same price I could have a Doberman from “The Pack.” A set of metal dogs. One is in the pose of rolling on the sand, another in a crouched pose above that one- ready to play. One more stands with its head side-ways as if howling. We have traversed the length of the beach exhibit with my words and your imagination. Remember how I said,“Let’s go to the Surf Club for lunch? The seagulls were swooping then, riding the wind as they did If I look back the way we came I almost believe that you can see them.