OVER UNDER
Humans are animals best suited to land. This is something I often forget, lulled into a false sense of belonging by my time spent in the brine – first as a photographer, second as an enthusiastic (albeit average) surfer. Out of the water we can move around as we wish and we are adept at seeing, hearing and interpreting our environment. Once we enter the ocean, however, it becomes alarmingly clear that we’re just clever mammals throwing ourselves into situations we’re not adapted for, donning all sorts of suits, fins and boards to aid us in our ventures. Our limited evolutionary ability means that most of us only get a fleeting glimpse of the vast worlds at work beneath us; a dynamic matrix inhabited by plants, animals and other organisms as rich and diverse as those found on land. The very nature of the water’s surface seems as if it’s there to obscure our perception of what lies beneath, reflecting light back at us to hide its contents.
I can trace my curiosity to look deeper into this world back to my childhood, where I’d spend entire days darting excitedly from rock pool to rock pool in search of new and interesting creatures. Peering into these shallow pools ignited a deep fascination with their inhabitants and as the years wore on, I often found myself picking up my fins, mask and
