So I found myself at this shingle wonderland/wasteland, the tide so low I could barely make out where land ended and where sea began. Even at the end of the world, I could see the waves!
From London to Dungeness, what originally was a pilgrimage to Derek Jarman's Prospect Cottage became this incredible adventure, bursting with magic, impulse, inspiration.
I couldn't resist taking a few shingles as a reminder. They're placed on a special corner of my window sill at home now.
Dungeness is a strange feeling sort of town. I guess the best way to portray it is that you feel you are in the wetlands (or "hinterlands" as Lacenaire would like it described). You're not completely on dry land nor or you completely underwater, you're somewhere in between, stuck in a horror film setting, like you're in quicksand. Houses (they're more like cabins) are painted matte black, driftwood-like wooden boats act as cars permanently parked on the lawn, fisherman's junk scatter throughout, salty neon yellow cactus like flowers blossom through the shingles, the weird toy train that crosses through the village with its narrow gauge railway blowing smoke, adding to the eeriness of it all.
The black lighthouse, unfortunately closed that day. Lacenaire has aspirations to sleep in one of these one day. Dreams do come true.
The random but elegant gate next to the nuclear power station. Dungeness is like this perfect desolate town, all the bits make it so achingly bleak, so achingly beautiful.
The iconic house.
The experimental shingle garden. Jarman knew crystals have special healing powers.
My '80s Breakfast Club goth chic look fits well within this environment.
Lacenaire said that it was actually better that the sky was grey and partially drizzling; the lighting made way for the vibrancy of the flowers and situated our mood.
As it rains here tonight, I feel that I brought the English weather back with me to California. I love falling asleep to the rain.
