Leon Barnard’s installation first lends itself to be a documentation of a daily ritual, with methodic repetition in both the film and tiled sculpture. I was drawn to the simplicity of this. Focusing on an anonymous, continuous figure, sometimes surrounded by friends, sometimes alone, flashes of the ever-changing sea set the pace of the film. Accompanied by a static tile sculpture, reminiscent of childhood pools in the faded colours of the sea and sky, the regiment of pixelated tiles juxtaposes the intimacy and fluidity of the film. However, the tiles are not new - they hold marks and are roughly cut, to maintain a personal, human interaction with them. And yet, despite being slightly different shapes and sizes, they fit together and hold each other up.
The success of the installation lies in the closing scene of the film, after the continued changing shots amount to a mass blur in our minds. The lone figure stands for a moment in water that is finally still. She is held longer than in previous scenes - up to her knees in the water, no rush to get in. As a viewer, you feel strongly connected to both the person and the sea, and are given permission to bear witness to such a deeply personal moment. Finally, the figure dives, and disappears beneath the smooth ripples, and is finally wholly fused with the water.