One thing that has always brought me joy is the wild diversity of odd life that exists in the sea.
When I was a child I spent all my summers in a tiny village in Croatia, where the only interesting things were hiding underwater. I would pass most of my time upside-down, eyes open with no goggles, holding my breath and trying to see what the native population of whelks, sea urchins, limpets and starfish was doing. I would dive as deep as I could, grab fistfuls of sand and then bring it up to the surface to sift for the tiniest shells. When ordered to come out and dry off, I’d crouch by the tide pools and visit with the crabs.
As the years have passed it has become clear that the sea, which always seemed all-powerful and untouchable, is in fact suffering and needs our help to thrive. Visiting the same places one can notice the disappearance of that wild diversity of creatures that once lived there, a constant reduction of life. Urchins withdrawing from the shallow waters, hermit crabs wearing plastic bottle caps for shells. Plastic bags washing up on the shore. It hurts to see it.
I wanted to make this piece for a long time but wasn’t sure I could do my vision justice. I wanted to blend together two worlds that are both bursting with unexpected color and detail - on one side the mosses, lichens, fungi, and slime molds that live on the bark of gnarled trees, and on the other the anemones, coral, barnacles, and crustaceans that live on the surface of rocks under the sea. I thought they would like each other.
If my love for the smallest creatures of the sea can be turned into funds that will support their recovery, I can think of no better use of my artistic power.
Lidija Paradinovic Nagulov
