Longing for the Sea

“My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.”
―Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Air Tawar Beach, Padang, 25 July 2014

 
The sea always fascinates me. As a person who grew up near the seashore—the closest is only 200 meters from my childhood home in Padang—not going to the beach for a long time always gave rise to a feeling of longing that prompted me to look again at the beach photos saved in my handphone.

Not a beautiful beach commercially managed for tourist, what I miss is a natural open beach located in the backyard of people's homes, where local fishermen go to make a living. Quiet beach that is far from the settlement, which can only be visited by walking for miles along the empty patches of land which is only inhabited by cattle released in the wild.

The weather in coastal areas is often more dynamic, the wind can suddenly blow hard, heavy rain immediately falls and immediately passes. I remember when I was young I sometimes woke up at one or two in the middle of the night. Hearing the whistling sound of the wind and the sound of waves rumbling in the distance strangely made me feel calm, thinking there were those who stayed awake and didn't sleep in the middle of the night, like me.

The sea holds mysteries that have long been a source of human inspiration in art, literature, paintings, photographs, poetry novels, films. One of the famous sea paintings that I like is Katshusika Hokusai's "The Great Wave of Kanagawa".

Katsushika Hokusai. "The Great Wave of Kanagawa". 1829

This wooden block print from 1829 depicts large waves threatening three boats off the coast of Kanagawa, Yokohama. In the background there is Mount Fuji, which may be deliberately made to look small compared to the waves, to emphasize the distance and superiority of the sea. This dramatic painting depicts waves in such great detail that we can see bursts of seawater droplets on the waves. The tips of the waves are drawn by Hokusai like fingers ready to grip anything underneath.

 

So it might not be a coincidence that the first photo that made me interested in photography was a beach photo. In 2010, a friend of mine, a photography enthusiast who lived in Bengkulu, sent a photo of sunset at Pantai Panjang, Bengkulu. The photo opened my eyes to how photographs could show beauty differently from what can be seen by our eyes.

Pantai Panjang, Bengkulu, 19 April 2010. Photo by Yahya Mahmud

I have to say thanks because this photo was the first to rise in me the desire to start learning to take pictures. But, because at that time, also now, I did not live near the beach, in the early years I mostly took macro photos and still-life. And, of course, every time I go home, I never miss photographing on the beach.

 

Air Tawar Beach in the morning. Padang, 9 July 2016

The sea as a photo object is never boring. The sky above the sea always looks different. The shape and form of the clouds change rapidly like scenes in an action movie. The colors change as the relative position of the Sun shifts. The same place can provide very different views. The sea and the beach are never monotonous. 

These quick and extreme changes make us very aware that early morning and dusk are the best time to get the best pictures. No mercy. Taking pictures in the middle of the day, everything looks bland and flat. But patience to wait for the morning and dusk light is rewarded in full. Quite often beach photos are presentable as they are, ready to be displayed directly from the camera without the need for a touch of editing to sharpen colors or contrast. Just perfect.

Air Tawar Beach in the afternoon. Padang, 4 Juli 2016

But beyond that, the sea also taught me a lot of symbolic things. The sea has conflicting qualities. Peaceful, but dangerous. Calm, then turbulent. The sea which is full of anger today can become quiet and tranquil tomorrow. That dynamic also makes me never get tired of visiting the beach every day, if possible, while I am in my hometown. 

It makes me proud of humanity's resilience to see traditional fishermen in their small boats brave the big waves, implying hope that never dies, tenacity against obstacles that are often unexpected. They are tough people who persistently seek a living day after day under the uncertainty of the ocean.

Such persistence is also suggested in paintings of the Golden Age of Dutch in the seventeenth century. In the painting titled "Ships in Stormy Sea" by Ludofl Backhuysen made in 1670, the view of the sea looks very violent. We ask, how can the ships survive?

Ludolf Backhuysen. "Ship in Stormy Sea". 1670

Backhuysen's paintings imply that humans can cope better than we think; what looks threatening can actually be survived safely. Eventually, the sea will return calm and friendly, as depicted in Willem van de Velde the Younger's painting, "Ships off the coast" (1660).

Willem van de Velde the Younger. "Ships off the coast." 1660. 

In the madness of wild ideas that often come to my mind, I sometimes imagine myself as a fish in the deep sea, that cannot stay long in shallow water. Big fish that occasionally like to swim in groups, but also feel comfortable swimming alone. Like an Orca. But sure that's not the reason. 

However, I like what Cornelia Funke wrote about Elinor in Inkheart, one of the characters in her novel that's included in the list of 100 must-read books for teens from Germany, "The sea always filled her with longing, even though for what she was never sure." That can be true for me, too.

Indonesia version