I live at the ocean’s edge. Air here… is different. To turn into the wind, to catch the ocean’s “breath” is to embrace salt and sea… a delicate breeze or a forceful push. I walk the beach, I ask strangers (and a few friends) to turn their face into the wind, to accept it as it is, as they are. Each day is different, each profile unique – a simple gesture for something that can not be seen. To be “in irons” is when a boat is facing the wind and therefore can not catch the wind in it’s sail. The boat sits still, a photograph makes still the movement of the air across a face, through the hair. These are my strangers in irons.
