The paths we walk today

It’s the closing day for an art exhibition entitled Matriarchs at the Fishing Quarter Gallery in which seven artists have come together to exhibit on the seafront. There is not much information on display about the artists but a brief rational for the exhibition can be found on the wall, as follows.

‘Through installation, photography, sculpture, drawing, and print, the works on display delve into the profound and lasting impact that matriarchs have on us as individuals, families, and our wider communities. The works examine how these central figures develop familial cultures, pass down stories, and impart wisdom. With each piece, the artists invite us to reflect on the core relationships that sustain us, shaping our histories and the paths we walk today. From the quiet moments of everyday life to the deep rituals of connection, the exhibition underscores the far-reaching influence of matriarchs, offering a space to honour and celebrate their legacies.’

There are several pieces by Reem Acason. She describes herself as ‘a multi-disciplinary artist whose work explores the complexities of cross-cultural identity’. This photograph of one Acason’s pieces includes: Bedtime (2025), ‘Oil and gesso on 1980’s duvet cover fragment’; Signs of Life VIII (2025), ‘Vintage crate, oyster shells, wild Sussex clay’; and Signs of Life II (2024), ‘Found bird’s nest, paperclay’.

‘I am interested, Acason says on her website, ‘in the relationship between the Middle Eastern region and Europe, and their respective intertwined social and cultural histories. I take inspiration from historic European portraiture, as well as motifs and symbols (both real and imagined) from the “Oriental” world.’

If you missed the exhibition here are the artists online.

@vix_koch
@devon_mcculloch_illustration
@debbieantonowicz]
@mindyheidi
@bethlucygibbons
@ellachandlerstudio
@reemacason

200 black body bags

Ten years ago this month, some 200 black body bags were lined up on Brighton Beach, just east of Palace Pier, in a haunting performance staged by Amnesty International to highlight Britain’s ‘shameful’ response to the escalating migrant crisis in the Mediterranean. The protest came in the wake of a devastating shipwreck off the coast of Libya, where approximately 800 migrants lost their lives. Both The Guardian and the BBC covered the stunt at the time. And Amnesty International, itself, has now revisited the issue with a press release looking at progress made in saving lives in the Med. Nevertheless, according to the International Maritime Organisation more than 30,000 migrants have gone missing in the Mediterranean since 2014!

This photograph was published in The Guardian with credit to Tom Pugh/PA; and the photograph below it comes from the Amnesty website.

Back in April 2015, Amnesty supporters not only arranged the 200 body bags in rows but also zipped themselves into some of them, symbolising solidarity with the deceased. A funeral wreath was placed among the bags, and a banner reading #DontLetThemDrown was displayed prominently.​ Amnesty’s UK director, Kate Allen, was quoted as saying: ‘Until now, the British government’s response has been shameful but finally foreign ministers seem to be waking up to the need to act. EU governments must now urgently turn their rhetoric into action to stop more people drowning on their way to Europe.’

The demonstration was timed to coincide with emergency EU talks addressing the migrant crisis. Amnesty International criticised the UK government’s decision to scale back search and rescue operations in the Mediterranean, arguing that such actions contributed to the increasing death toll. The organisation called for a more compassionate and proactive approach to the humanitarian disaster unfolding at Europe’s borders.​

In a statement issued on 1 April 2025, Amnesty revisited its campaign starting with the body bags stunt, and drew attention to the UK’s deployment of HMS Bulwark, which has rescued over 4,000 people. Amnesty, it says, is advocating for ‘safe and legal routes for asylum-seekers, fair responsibility-sharing among European countries, and increased resettlement places to address the wider issues causing these deaths’.

The UK, of course, has been grappling with a surge in small boat crossings across the English Channel. As of April 2025, over 7,200 migrants have arrived via this perilous route, marking a 31% increase from the previous year (though there are hardly any recorded instances of landings on Brighton Beach).

The Turquoise Basket Star

In the twilight world between Brighton’s pebbles and the sea, where the water folds its breath in whispers, there lived a creature of delicate chaos - Gorgonocephalus turquoise. The Turquoise Basket Star.  [With thanks to ChatGPT, and apologies to Jacques Cousteau.]

On our recent trip to Britain’s south coast, we first encountered her beneath the soft veil of the outgoing tide, tangled like a myth among the roots of drifting weed and net remnants. To the untrained eye, she looked no different from debris, a tangle of line left by careless hands. But ah, when she moved. . . 

In the quiet nights, she would unfurl her arms like the lace of a deep-sea dancer, catching plankton on the wing, filtering the moonlight for flavour. Each limb, a miracle of evolution, split and split again - five arms becoming fifty, weaving an invisible net of hunger and grace.

By day, she curled into herself, hiding among rocks and kelp along the Marina sea wall, a recluse of the reef. The turquoise hue was not a warning, not a cry for attention, but the hue of calm itself - like ancient glacial melt or the eyes of a dreaming dolphin. In that colour lived serenity, and in her slow movements, patience.

She did not swim. She did not chase. She waited. The current was her companion. The tide, her twin.

But life near the shore is not so simple. Ropes come drifting in with their own stories. Some are pulled by boats. Some are abandoned by men who no longer remember the creatures they might ensnare. One day, the rope came for her. It embraced her not as a fellow tendril, but as a noose.

She did not struggle. She only curled tighter, as if tucking herself into a last sleep.

And there she remains now, on the low tide sands of Brighton Beach. Not gone, not forgotten. Her arms, still flung wide, hold a memory of the sea. A tale of gentleness. Of hunger fed only on light.

She reminds us that in the tangled ruins of our world, there still lies beauty. And in every knot of line, there may once have been a life as delicate as breath itself.

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever. Adieu!

 

Brighton waves, Brighton raves!

A sea of enthusiasm for BrightonBeach365

100th post, 265 to go!

Fish and chips or moules marinières

‘We promise you won’t find a better view on the South Coast.’ So boasts the Palm Court restaurant, on Brighton’s Palace Pier, which also calls itself ‘The home of the Big Fish’. Have you eaten there? Famously top notch fish and chips are available (the fish is hand cut), as are moules marinières.

It seems unclear exactly when the Palm Court opened for business. However, it stands where once stood the famous Concert Hall, and so, presumably, it was installed as part of the late-1980s transformation (following the dismantling of the theatre). 

Subsequently, in 2018, the Palm Court underwent a significant refurbishment. Out went the darker, old-world styling; in came sea-glass tones, elegant booths, a sleek central island bar, and vast windows offering diners an unbroken view of the channel. Part of the seating area, apparently, was fashioned from a preserved bandstand, giving patrons the feeling of dining inside a Victorian music box (with the sound of gulls for accompaniment). The redesign also incorporated a copper installation inspired by starling murmurations.

Over the years, celebrity endorsements have kept the restaurant in the public eye. According to the pier’s website, Heston Blumenthal (famous chef) declared that Brighton Pier is the ‘Spiritual home of fish and chips’ whilst on a trip to film a one-off special documentary called Heston’s Fishy Feasts. 

The local newspaper, the Argus, reported in 2019 that Brighton crime writer Peter James chose the Palm Court to launch his novel Dead At First Sight. At the same time he announced that his detective Roy Grace would be featuring in a new series of TV dramas. Guests at the event included fellow crime writer Martina Cole, Brighton and Hove Mayor Dee Simson and Sussex Police and Crime Commissioner Katy Bourne! And then, in March 2022, the Argus told us ‘the one and only’ pop star Chesney Hawkes and son Casey had ‘stopped off’ at the Palm Court for, what else, fish and chips.

While disputing the idea that I couldn’t find a better view on the South Coast, I’ll allow the restaurant a few final words of self-promotion: ‘Expertly blending seaside tradition with contemporary style, Palm Court serves up British classics, seafood favourites, super fresh salads and vegan specials, focussing on the tastiest ingredients and exceptional customer service. Famous for our fish & chips, each fillet we serve is hand-cut in house, coated in our delicious batter and cooked to crispy perfection, whilst our equally popular Moules Marinières deliver full-on flavour of the sea, French-style.’

Well, it is a hard life!

Brighton Beach is not a place to go crabbing, generally there’s no rocks or rock pools, moreover any kind of fishing from the pier has been forbidden for decades. Nevertheless, of course, there’s crabs out there, in the sea, lurking. Here’s the evidence of one that got into trouble, lost a claw. Oh dear! 

Given the size and shape of the claw, ChatGPT tells me, it could have belonged to a Velvet Swimming Crab (Necora puber) or to an Edible Crab (Cancer pagurus). However, the former has blue-tinged claws with pronounced ‘hair’ on the body and claws; and the latter has thick, heavier pincers with black tips. 

No, this claw most likely came from a European Green Crab (Carcinus maenas). Although native to Europe it is one of the world’s most invasive marine species, having spread to North America, Australia, South Africa, and beyond, where it outcompetes native species and devastates shellfish stocks.

European Green Crabs (Wikipedia image here) are ubiquitous across Europe’s rocky shores, estuaries, harbours, and tidal pools, burying themselves in sand or sheltering under rocks at low tide. They eat molluscs, worms, algae, detritus, and sometimes smaller crabs. They’re also aggressive and territorial, especially during mating season. Moulting is common as they grow, so they shed claws and exoskeleton fragments often wash ashore.

Despite the name, European Green Crabs are not always green, rather they come in a range of colours, olive green, brown, even reddish. Claws tend to be mottled with a granular texture and sometimes tinged with blue or green hues. They are uneven in size with the larger ones used for crushing prey, and smaller ones for more dexterous handling. The inner edges are serrated and used for gripping prey.

The photographed claw (on a piece of nearby driftwood) probably came from a crab about the size of a human hand. It was most likely lost in one of four ways: fighting other crabs (they are very territorial creatures ), autotomy (self-amputation), predation (by birds or larger fish), or moulting mishaps (claws getting stuck between rocks). Well, it is a hard life!

In a silvery sea of time

My struts and columns, battered, beaten, rusted
My arches, beams, joists exposed to every weather
Yet here I am, old, old yet standing, still standing
Proud
Honest
Beautiful
In a silvery sea of time

My bones and muscles, always tired, seeking rest
My ligaments and joints, creaking all day long
Yet here I am, old, old yet standing, still standing
Wrinkling
Watchful
Wizened
With a silvery mop on top

Where gone my dancers, promenaders, those in deckchairs
Gone to winds, and silvery waves, and elemental forces
Yet here I am, old, old yet standing, still standing
Proud
Honest
Beautiful
In a silvery sea of time

Where gone my friends, family and travels
Gone to dust, torn photos and unremembered postcards
Yet here I am, old, old yet standing, still standing
Wrinkling
Watchful
Wizened
With a silvery mop on top