MARCH 2024 · WATERLINE
Falmouth, Cornwall
Fal Estuary, Cornwall
The Fal Estuary is a deep natural harbour, which means Falmouth has been a working waterfront for centuries, and the evidence is everywhere. The pilings on the foreshore are old wood, grey and stained at the waterline, standing in shallow green water that shows the estuary bottom at low tide. The boats that sit on the exposed mud are not the sleek leisure kind — a yellow and blue fishing boat rested at an angle in the channel, its hull doing what hulls do when the tide goes out.

Colour is the thing here. Not the colour of tourism but industrial colour: turquoise and orange metal barriers outside a concrete building that has been deteriorating at its own pace. Bright double doors — turquoise, set in a terracotta wall — with rust working through the hinges. Ornate metalwork in blue and orange in a courtyard where the whitewashed walls are going back to stone. The colours were not put there for the camera. They were put there to mark things, cordon things off, distinguish one working structure from another. They've weathered into something else.
Everything here is marked by water and time in roughly equal measure.
Falmouth — March 2024

I found a garden somewhere in the back streets. It had gunnera — those plants that look like they belong in a different climate, with leaves the size of a person and thick reddish seed cones. Standing in a Cornish garden next to a weathered wall, they looked entirely wrong and entirely right. The harbour town goes about its business and the gunnera grows regardless.


At dusk the rocks at the tidal margin showed streaked mineral colours — ochre, grey, dark green from the moss. Everything here is marked by water and time in roughly equal measure.











