ocean is part of an ongoing project started in 2016. Elsa Hoffman bolts sheets of new steel onto a seawall at the down east NC coast during low tide. Exposed to the daily tidal shifts, the panels are submerged then revealed by tidal waters: the water, salt and air transforms the industrial surface; the slow transformation of the metal becomes a clock, an organic landscape and map or graph of time passing in all its beauty and inevitable decay. 

Hoffman sees her role in this project as a curator or choreographer. Setting a stage and parameters, using a net to capture a period of time, to facilitate the visual translation of time and its effect on the physical world. 

There is a lot of sentimentality embedded in this project. The human reaction to want to preserve all things precious (people in your life, specific moments of time, objects, places) while the cognizant, simultaneous knowledge of the inevitable ephemeral quality of our existence. This project feels like a practice in embracing precious moments and also ritualistically letting them go. 

“Sliver of a moon and stars in sky. Winds sweeping in from sea. Tide is slowly creeping back in after a thoroughly far low tide. Audio recorder is mapping sounds of this landscape, of these moments passing. Significant to this specific time period […] days ending and beginning…While I sleep tonight the water will rise, tide will come in, the metal will be submerged. Evening moving/mooring. Will leave one panel up, to be taken down later. I will check on it in a month and see how far gone…Every 14 seconds lighthouse beams this direction. After all of these years still signally steadiness, stability, direction, grounding point. […] The textures of the moon shadow of wind water; lights all else is quiet but the wind won’t stop and the sea is rising and we are quietly sitting here. Phil is snoring now. We will wake at dawn to check the metal."

 

-Elsa Hoffman, ocean journal entry, April 30, 2017.

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