There are more than ten thousand beaches fringing the Great Southern Land. Here at TCI we live almost on top of one of them.
We are formed by what we know. What is familiar is normal.
The beach is a great leveller, and the minute you venture into the surf, any veneer that has survived the sand and breeze comes away in the scouring of the salt waves. Hair is wet, makeup comes off, and we stand without most of the usual layers our social or working life might have us apply. It is a place that insists that you get close to nature and a place which shows nature who you really are.
I think I have said this before: it is hard to kid yourself about colour and the human being on the beach. When you have grown up with it, that stripped and natural look is your automatic baseline, and wherever you go, whatever you do, you will always crave the truth people reveal there, in their most natural skin in that vast light. You are always seeking that most “real” face, an honest sighting of the person as they might appear while running through the spray with their dog.
I know this informs everything I do, including what I do in PCA. I am looking for what will work there, on the beach, where our own skin is the only test. Inharmonious applied colour looks like flotsam on the waves and jetsam on the shore, a distraction between the eye and the natural reality. You can’t not see it as superficial and superfluous, once you know, and you will always look beneath it where you find it.