Boats of all shapes and sizes are, in my opinion, an artist’s dream. It’s the combination of those sinuous curves and proportions needed to make them suitably wave faring and cut the waters that imbue them with a added gritty romance in the mind of this observer who tries to imagine the nautical miles covered both horizontally and vertically.
And when these venerable old ladies of the sea are retired out, they recline on shores at a tilt akin to wooden Henry Moore sculptures where they embark on new journeys of gentle dereliction through disrepair; the slow elemental ingress as the layered paint peels results in a steady, deeper decay of the fabric of the boat and new transient textures and colours are revealed.
