I have photographed the sea with film many years.

Every time I reach the shore, the frame holds the same three blues — the blue of sky, the blue of sea, the deeper blue of distant ridges and shadow. Their proportions shift through the day: at dawn the sea outweighs the sky; at noon the sky presses down; by dusk the shadow swallows both.

The wind is strong, the light is hard, and the shore is mostly empty. I stand there and watch colour circulate between water, air, and stone.

Three Blues is not about any particular sea. It is about colour itself — how a single frame can be rewritten, again and again, in the course of a day.