In stories, if a character is looking out to sea they’re frequently experiencing epiphany. In art, too, there’s no shortage of characters gazing out to sea. The guy giving the sermon below clearly understands the epiphanic power of the ocean, especially in combination with the higher altitude of a clifftop.
These days we are technologically connected to each other, but there was a time when saying goodbye to a loved one sailing off on a ship was a separation akin to death. That was the case for my own emigrant ancestors, who sailed to New Zealand in the mid 1800s. They never returned to England, Scotland and Ireland. Nor did their children or their children’s children.
Sometimes in art, a male character looks out to sea.
These old fellows gaze out to sea because they share a special interest in ships.
For young boys, the sea promises adventure.
But the image of the pretty young woman gazing out across the ocean is ubiquitous. I suspect this is a fantasy designed to buoy the spirits of sailors. It’s nice to think that life stands still for you on shore. The fantasy is no doubt enjoyed by young women, too, because an absent lover allows for the erotics of abstinence.
The nubile young woman near the sea is all tied up with folklore of mermaids and sirens.
Sirens can be pretty evil (until they are imaginatively eroticised) but there are plenty of other fantasy creatures which threaten to pop out of the sea.
I suspect this woman is thinking hard about fish for dinner.
I’m a little concerned about this woman’s intentions.
What is Raggedy Ann telling Andy? Without reading the book I’ll never guess, as their smiles are sewn on.
The space ship is the sci-fi equivalent of the ship, so of course we have similar images of women looking for men who have gone away on exciting adventures.
CONTEMPORARY FICTION SET IN AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND (2023)
On paper, things look fine. Sam Dennon recently inherited significant wealth from his uncle. As a respected architect, Sam spends his days thinking about the family needs and rich lives of his clients. But privately? Even his enduring love of amateur astronomy is on the wane. Sam has built a sustainable-architecture display home for himself but hasn’t yet moved into it, preferring to sleep in his cocoon of a campervan. Although they never announced it publicly, Sam’s wife and business partner ended their marriage years ago due to lack of intimacy, leaving Sam with the sense he is irreparably broken.
Now his beloved uncle has died. An intensifying fear manifests as health anxiety, with night terrors from a half-remembered early childhood event. To assuage the loneliness, Sam embarks on a Personal Happiness Project: