Exhibitions > Drew Davis and Fiona Ball: Dunsels

The glittering grit of a sun-baked beach chars pumiced soles. The sea breeze coaxes garish kites and parasols to undulate in rhythm with its waves. A cacophony of projectiles whiz through the air, balls and frisbees ricocheting through drifting aromas of coconut sunscreen, freshly cut mango, and sea brine.

Oh, the sea! She soothes and beckons you to her shallow edges.
She wishes to envelop you in her carefree ease. She sways to seduce you.

The beach is an embodiment of sensory dichotomy. The sun beats our skin, yet it’s warmth wanes as the gusty sea breeze cools and refreshes the body. The sand’s granular abrasions are mitigated to smoothness as soon as you step into the silky saline water. Bodies alike sway with her to no reason.

Glistening in the noon daylight, a scene is constructed from glitter to simultaneously demarcate and fuse this natural space. The seams of pale ground, green water, white foam, and soaked sand coalesce as this resplendent thread of glitter leads them together. In contrast, the location also mirrors metaphysical reactions. The infinitesimal size of the ocean stitched with its stunning horizon. The intensity of scale here provides a backdrop to relaxation. We taunt the water skipping over tiny waves and frolic in it, pushing forward tiny splashes in mere trifles against gargantuan waves, whose power we have forgotten.
A dunsel is something that is useless, superfluous, or unnecessary.

Documentation by Brennen Perry.