I find myself in a space that is used by the community every day. I am seated on a sandy ledge with restio surrounding me, prickling my legs. I am making a watercolour sketch of the huge granite rocks covered by lichen, with a backdrop of Chapman's Peak. The humans walk by, not wanting to interfere. The dogs come to chat, pushing and bumping and sticking their noses into my water and paint. Curious as to what I am doing there.
I am part of the space. The artist in a well-loved and used piece of beach on the urban fringe. What a privilege.
This beach doesn't always look so calm. It is ravaged by storm seas and the level of the sand can drop by 2 meters, scoured out to be dumped on an offshore sandbank. Rocks that are hidden by the sand appear. They were always there. Will they always be there?