What makes us human – what is it that really separates us? People line the beach – day after day, summer after summer – leaving ideas of humanity in their beach bags. What year is it when you step onto the sand? Who are you when you are alone? These are the kinds of ideas that surround me when I look over the long beaches filled with hundreds of tiny people dotting the shoreline. Interlude speaks of the timeless disconnection that the beach demands. The sun is too bright to see your phone. Put it away. Clusters of unique bodies lay shamelessly along the shore. Take your clothes off. The sound of the waves are loud. So don’t think. Interlude expresses the fleeting hours of peace that one has on a hot summer’s day, in a world that is increasingly difficult to disconnect from.
