Presence and absence

Footprints in the sand.

Beaches can be at once both busy and empty places. Thronging with life, or a place to stare out at the horizon and enjoy solitude. The beach is one of the few places where our footprints and marks are visible. Our pavements retain no trace of the human traffic, the endless march of people, children, dogs, scoots, bikes. But the sand retains the presence despite the absence. Footprints have been found on Formby beach near Liverpool. A walk along the beach preserved for 9000 years.

The sand is cratered with footprints and evidence of activity. We come to the strandline and leave traces of ourselves. A human tide of sand castles, dug holes, foot marks, imprints of soles and souls. Mingling then disappearing with the wipe-clean of the tide, or becoming replaced or changed by later layers of feet. In the summer a constant layering of lives while the fizz and crash, fizz and crash of the tide as it meets the strandline. Where water and beach meet. For a time water is beach and beach is water, before they separate once more. To be at the beach is to be reminded of transcience of nothing lasting forever. Of time slowing to the rythmn of the tide. I'm drawn to a set of prints in the sand. They look like hieroglyphs. I realise that they are mine, and that I've retraced my steps.