2026
Super 8 projector,
Found ocean footage,
Plastic sheet,
Audio
Build state:
Conceptual
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
The pull toward something wild and uncontainable. The longing that doesn't reason with you. And that last line... and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over... which you can read as a sailor's rest, or as the thing that waits for all of us at the end of a long watch.
A Super 8 projector sits on a pedestal in a darkened room, loud and mechanical, throwing ocean footage onto a large plastic sheet suspended from the ceiling. The sheet billows... waves, shroud, ghost, something inanimate made to move. The image never settles. Underneath the projector noise and the sound of waves, the poem is read in whispers. You hear it without quite hearing it.
We are all marching toward the sea... Lost at sea... Called back to sea.