Collecting shells on a hot summer’s day is a nostalgic experience, one that takes me right back to childhood holidays with my grandparents. Grandma would pack a picnic (all homemade) and Grandpa would drive us down to the beach in the white Holden Beaumont, which was scented with his Bank pipe tobacco. The floor of the car would be so sandy from previous trips but he never fussed about it. Grandma was a comforting landmark in the green and white striped beach tent, Grandpa would spend hours floating, with just his head and toes out of the water and I’d collect shells. Bountiful buckets would come home with us and I’d spend hours arranging them on the cool tiles of their back porch in the shade of a frangipani tree. Most of the shells were returned the next day when we’d do it all again.
Fan shells (Chlamys asperrimus), mixed shell grit, linen thread and bookbinder’s gum on canvas
105 x 105 cm framed
Framed with white moulding, a white circular cut matt, internal side spacers, glass and hangers
SOLD – Private collection San Diego, USA
© Janine Mackintosh, All Rights Reserved 2015