crenulate
of a shoreline: having many small irregular bays formed by the action of waves on softer rock

Crenulate draws on old maps and panoramic photographs of Te-Whanganui-a-Tara, as well as Giuseppe Penone’s Propagations series, in which repeated tracings of body parts—often fingerprints—form topographic-like images. In Crenulate, lines trace the curves of Wellington’s South Coast, creating a kind of oceanic topography. Their repetition evokes the movement of tides and the energy of waves as they wrap into the coastline’s bays. As a surfer, I’ve spent hours watching waves roll in—growing, shifting, curling around points and beaches. That embodied observation informs the rhythm of the lines. This work uses oil paint made from bricks found on beaches along the South Coast. Once part of unknown structures, these terracotta fragments have been rounded by the waves of Te Moana-o-Raukawa/Cook Strait, becoming soft imposter-rocks among shells and stones. Their origins are ambiguous — formed from this land, yet shaped by colonial ideals of permanence and construction. Their use as pigment grounds Crenulate in place, layering meaning through material. Presented across multiple canvases that sit side by side, the work forms a panoramic, bird’s-eye view of the coastline. The format evokes the act of assembling fragmented maps, suggesting that the coastline extends beyond the boundaries of the canvas.