The Horizon Is Near, I Fear
The thought of losing legacies to time, and the human tendency toward change and convenience, devastates. The absence of interactions and connections once harbored from the sea to the mouths of the community plagues in unimaginable ways—for complete strangers, there is a profound sense of loss.
There is something devastatingly beautiful about witnessing something known to disappear, about seeing efforts to preserve generational culture. The rush feels urgent because, in many ways, it seems already gone. The sun is sinking, and the horizon looms near and fear settles in its place.
Following fishermen across the island of Lanzarote, the focus shifted from their daily routines to the true weight of their legacies. It became clear that many of their sons would not continue this tradition, as it faces slow extinction.
What began as an exploration of tactile objectives evolved into an exploration of visual harmony —generational octopus hunting along the shores of La Santa, whispered fishing requests from elders to the fishermen, and an insight into a labor-intensive livelihood that no longer produces the rewards to sustain itself. Despite these challenges, the tradition of fishing endures, a testament to an island community holding onto its past in the face of an uncertain future.
