Older than the verb to admire.
Ships from Italy within 1–3 business days
500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Cliffs series · 2 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 008 of 100.
Dispatched from Italy within 1–3 business days.
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You stand at the railing in cold air. There is no view. The mist has come down to shoulder height and the cliff face is somewhere in front of you, definitely, but you are taking it on faith. After a while the mist thins for thirty seconds and you see what you came for, a wall of rock so dark and so wet it looks like it has not stopped raining in a thousand years. The mist comes back. The cliff is still there.
A monumental sea cliff on the north Atlantic, shoulder-deep in dense mist, a breaking wave at its base. The cliff was here before language. It will still be here long after the room you are reading in. Whatever it is doing, it has been doing for a very long time, and it is in no hurry to explain itself.
Reads alongside The Sea, the Sea by Iris Murdoch, The Rings of Saturn by W.G. Sebald, or any book read by a window where the weather is doing most of the talking.
Standing at a sea cliff is one of the few places left where silence still has weight. The wind arrives from somewhere with nothing in the way. The air carries salt. The water below moves with the patience of something that has been doing this since before you were born and will keep doing it long after. The body remembers it is small. That is the whole point.
