In a large dark room, with paintings and screens making their presence known in the peripheral of one’s view, a fragment of the natural world sits. Occupying five meters of that large space, the voice of the piece echoes loudly of the walls till it could not be ignored, saying “I am here, look at me”. And when I first looked at it — the innumerable crystals suspended from silver chains, which danced as the light refracted of their translucent surface, and the fever of white stingrays which glided along the gallery’s floor — a single thought permeated my body.

Beautiful.

I looked around, wondering if there was anyone else who too felt drawn in by this beauty, but I found myself, if only for a few seconds, entirely alone in my findings. And then I thought if perhaps this was something only, I could truly see, a moment in time reserved for simply my eyes, a novel for a singular reader. A trance drew me to inch closer, the stingray continuing their circular path, a whirlpool pulling me so close that if I wanted to, I could reach out and touch the crystals, cause a ripple. Though my body stayed still, not wanting to touch for fear its fragile tranquillity would end if I did, my mind dove in deeper, and with it my memories floated to the surface.

*

When I was a young boy, my parents would often drop me off at my Nonna’s house for the day. The house was big, but most of the time we would only use three of the rooms. While there was a dining room, most of the time we would instead eat together in the kitchen, I along with my siblings and cousins huddled around the circular wooden table as we were centred around various cabinet’s that stored delicious treats.

Many hours were spent in the backyard, the large stone patio being the perfect place to sit on a warm summer’s day, with the of the space being surrounded by numerous trees and plants, with a vibrant green grass to play cricket on. But mostly I stuck to the lounge room, the light which glowed dimly overhead, the many paintings and pictures that adorned the walls, some personal such as photos of me and my cousins, others more obscure like a the painting of various figures from the 90s dancing together in a lounge.  I would spend those days playing with my cousins, and every couple of hours she would call us all into the kitchen, and we’d eat. First lunch, then a small dessert of ice cream and wafers and then finally dinner. After lunch if I was too tired to go and play, I’d turn on the DVD player and put on the blue planet by David Attenbrough. One of the episodes talked about stingrays. Stingrays are in close relation to sharks and are known for their peculiar diamond shape and venomous barbs. Many of the types of stingrays prefer to live in isolation, while others travel in groups as large as thousands. We call those a fever.  And they bury themselves under the sand, tucking themselves in when going to sleep. When I told my Nonna this, she smiled and said they sound just like us.

When you were here, you reminded me of the ocean. When you smiled, the glittering of white sand under summers gaze seemed dull in comparison. You would always smile, so much so I cannot remember a time you were not. Every time I came to visit you, your smile was the first thing I would see. And when time went on, and I got older I realised while you were always smiling. Because when I knocked on your door and sat at your table and told you stories about my school, or weekend or whatever other nonsense I would talk about, it made that house which was so quiet a little less so. I realise you were as happy to see me as I was to see you. I remember one time  (memory).

*

That small little be of the ocean that occupied the large dark room is called Pretty Beach. It was made by Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, a 28-year-old Australian artist based in Western Australia. Working primarily in sculpture and installations, wood carved animals feature in many of his pieces, which he finds “fundamental to [his] visual language”. Many of the pieces “draws on memories and how memories can, as I describe it, inhabit and emerge from familial space”.

*

Another episode talked about Lobsters. Did you know that lobsters are essentially immortal? Unlike humans, whose chromosome eventually lose telomeres causing cell decay, lobsters have the enzyme telomerase, which allows them to repair their telomeres even after thousands if not millions of cell division. Therefore, they essentially do not age or at least suffer the effects of aging like we do. They simply continue to grow. And yet, they do die. As their bodies begin to grow, in order to survive they must shed their hard exoskeleton, called moulting. Trouble is though, the larger they grow the more energy required to moult. And eventually, the effort becomes too much. So even if their mind is pushing them to keep going, their bodies betray them, and they eventually pass. How human, you would never think so looking at one with shell cracked open on the dinner table.

When you looked at me, the life residing in the depths of the clear blue waters felt scarce compared to what was found in your eyes. But your eyes weren’t blue, they were brown like mine. And when I looked into those eyes, I saw the age in them. The years you spent growing up in Veneto, the time working as a nurse in Paris. All those cherished stories, I could just as clearly in your eyes as when you told them to me as you tucked me into bed and wished me a goodnight with sweet dreams.   

*

Blue planet also talked about Manta rays, which are often confused with Stingrays. While both being related to the shark family Manta rays are known for their distinct cephalic fins near their mouths and large wingspan. They are also known for their curiosity, intelligence self-awareness and social behaviour.  Manta rays possess the largest body-to-brain ratio of any other fish, indicating their potential for larger levels of complex behaviour. Their self-awareness, demonstrated through their ability to recognize themselves in reflective surfaces, put them in a category of humans and elephants. Like humans, manta-rays also create social relationships, as they form diverse and complex feeding and cleaning sites and establish long term bonds with these bonds often being seen in adult female manta rays. And did you know that each manta ray is unique in its appearance?  Each individual manta ray has a distinct pattern of spots on its belly, that Is the manta ray equivalent of a human fingerprint. In that way, every single one is unique, and can be identified by this pattern, most likely how they are recognized by fellow rays, and will strive to maintain the close bonds they form.

Just how like you were often smiling, your laugh was always something I could recognize you by, even if I hadn’t seen you yet.  When you laughed, the crashing of waves was more akin to a whisper. It was boisterous, bouncing off the large walls of your home, but yet it always had this soothing effect over me.  Because knowing that you were happy made me happy, and trying to make you laugh was something I enjoyed doing more than anything. So, after I watched episodes of Blue Planet I would run as fast as I could into the kitchen, seeing you putting the finishing touches on the ravioli for the afternoon meal, and tell you about all the facts my little head could manage to remember. And you would laugh and smile at all of them, your attention not wavering for more than a moment, only checking occasionally to make sure the food was being cooked properly.

*

While the piece Pretty Beach is made of many elements, the most eye-catching is the glimmering crystal that are gently suspended over the wood-carved stingrays. Upon remarking at a distance, one wouldn’t be faulted in mistaking the crystals as being a singular sheet, given the mass quantity of crystals themselves that only become clearer upon approaching the artwork. 1800 in total, the crystals are arranged in a circle, with enough distance between each as to not risk them crashing into each other with a sudden draft. And to the eye of the viewers can give off the imitation of a cloud burst of rain causing ripples across the surface of the water. Additionally, a small light is propped against one of the walls close to the piece, always allowing a certain degree of light to be refracted of the artwork. As I encircled the piece, desiring to examine the work from the possibly existing optimal spot, I realised that one’s position equally effected the way the piece is affected. With the light coming from behind me, the strands of silvery rain become lighter, as if the witnessing the end of small drizzle, while from ahead the rain is thick and all visibility behind the piece is lost, as if at the centre of a massive storm.

I always hated the rain. It prevented me from playing outside when I wanted to, my parents not wanting me to catch a cold. So, when it rained at my Nonna’s house, I would make sure to stay beneath the patio cover when I wanted some fresh air, wishing for the rain to leave. The air was cool; the mood became dreary as the light from all the colour drained away and was replaced with a greyer tone. Looking back now, I remember something you told me about rain after I complained for God only knows how long about why I hated it. You asked me if I liked plants, and I said yes. And then you told me that without rain, there could be no plants, so how could rain be bad? I didn’t understand. Then you laughed and smiled, and told me that until I understood, you would do your best to ask the rain to go away so that I could play.

*

The piece was created by Abdul in reflection on the passing of his grandfather, and his suicide in 2009 after spending years battling cancer and diabetes. Titling the artwork after a waterfront suburb in New South Wales, where his grandfather had lived, Abdul recalls moments from visiting Pretty beach, such as viewing fevers of stingrays in the shallow waters, and the soft curtains of rain that would be drawn over the bay. In an interview he remarks that while “A lot of it comes back to tropes of souls and the afterlife and what happens when you die”, ultimately his intention or focus for the artwork was the concept “that something carries on. It’s just taken away from [you]”. That while his grandfather is lost to him, he still holds onto the moments of being with him, and the memory he most associated with his grandfather, was pretty beach.  

***

When you were here, you reminded me of the ocean. When you smiled, the glittering of white sand under summers gaze seemed dull in comparison. When you looked at me, the life residing in the depths of the clear blue waters felt scarce compared to what was found in your eyes.  When you laughed, the crashing of waves was more akin to a whisper. You could sweep away the rain with your warmth, and your love for me could never be clouded. To me you were immortal, for how could someone kill something like the ocean.

But then the rain came. It struck suddenly and without warning. No, that’s a lie, the signs were there. The subtle movement of the distant sky, the darkening of an oncoming horizon I chose to avoid. And there was no warmth to sweep it away, not this time. When I saw you lying there, I could not see your smile. Your eyes were not bright, but tired and glassy. You could not laugh, but simply breath and when you held my hands there was no strength to sweep away the rain. And you told me you loved me, and then thanked me, like there was anything I had done worth being grateful for. and the words I really wanted to say came out as I love you too, because that was all I could muster. 

That night I saw you again. your back to me as you glided across the water. I called after you, but the waves washed away my pleas. I ran to catch you but there’s no more ground and I crash, the blankets of water envelop me, what little air I could muster clinging to my lungs as I sink. I am too late, you are gone. and even in the vast, perhaps bottomless and consuming cold of your passing, the warmth that trickles down my cheeks is unmistakable and unrelenting, as rain punctured the serenity of the ocean.

But even if you are no longer here, there will always be an ocean. With its white sand that glitters under summers gaze. With its clear blue water that hold endless life. You find me even in the rain, teardrops reflecting what little light can be found from the grey clouds, showering me in beautiful colours. You can never be washed away, your smile, your eyes, your voice, your love. And perhaps one day, my grandson would see me in the same way that you did in my memories, or maybe he will come to remind me of you.

So, knowing that I kick back to the surface and take another breath.

The Rain had gone.