Daily, in a Nimble Sea is an anagram of Bailey Island, Maine: where a tiny stretch of coastline is incessantly transformed by the interactions of fog, sun, and tides. When the tide goes out, a rocky field of seaweed is revealed. To walk across it is to traverse the ocean floor in the open air. It is a magical place, and for seven summers American photographer Barry Stone (born 1972) has watched his children grow and change against this backdrop. Photographs put up a feeble defense against the passage of time: the still image halts the waves from breaking, only to paradoxically heighten our awareness of their inevitable movement forward. These pictures were made with a digital camera. The code of a digital photograph also forms a kind of picture, expressed as a field of symbols. Like an anagram, these symbols can be rearranged and purposely disordered, resulting in gestural aberrations or glitches in the original image. The resulting images represent a fantasy of fatherhood, endless horizons and malleable realities.
