Sea Calligraphy

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Eight sea-surface gestures; light as ink.

Sea Calligraphy began as an accident of attention. Looking out over the Mediterranean, I noticed how light doesn’t simply reflect off the surface—it writes across it. A wake becomes a line. A forming crest becomes a stroke. Foam gathers like punctuation. Then the whole sentence dissolves and the page resets.

What keeps returning is the feeling of a cycle rather than a story: surfaces smoothing, pressure gathering, a gesture arriving, and then spending itself into trace. The sea doesn’t move forward so much as it rewrites—each mark carrying the faint residue of the last one, each erasure making room for what comes next.

These eight images hold that motion in fragments—brief inscriptions where beginnings and endings blur, and the water’s handwriting keeps changing as soon as it appears.