Footprints in the sand, a still from an experimental film.  July 2014.

A Run on Army land with my dog and a Flip camera strapped to my arm.

Movement making abstract the familiar.  Silence and stillness at times.  At others, the sounds of the woods.  Trees rustling in the wind, the diversity of the bird song and the noise of physical exertion mingle. Here and there George, the Dalmatian, paddles or laps water from a deep puddle or expanse of water. In the distance the low, dull drone of the armoured tanks.

Patterns and undulations.  The swoosh of the arms forwards and back, forwards and back, rhythmical, hypnotising to the eyes. Following the tracks of the armoured cars which churn the sand, leaping over mounds where the vehicles crash forwards, heave skyward and then crash.  Mimicking the motion. Muscles burning from running, hard in the sand.

Soon the vehicles will be gone, as the army withdraws in 2015. The sculptured land, chiseled by the caterpillar treads will be left undisturbed.The sand will smooth and maybe, slowly the heather and pine will creep into the beach.


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