A floating that comes and goes; a blurring that is full, yet empty, a diffuse moving up and down – and then, the reversal of all that motion.
Mudflats invite people to explore its temporary void for themselves. For a few hours a gap is opening up as a walk-in (cultural) space for imagination. It becomes a projection surface for dreams and longings. Even if – or precisely because – the water is always continuous and yet absent.
Mudflats also shake up the way we look at landscape. Sometimes we see two skies and sometimes only an infinite grey without a horizon line.
The way we look is part of our cultural heritage. Ultimately, we cannot escape a certain way of looking at landscape as it is deeply anchored in our collective store of meaning. Sea (and mudflats in their exaggerated form) is, and remains, a romantic place of longing, regardless of whether we really understand where the above and the below starts.
