Shaped by childhood memories, Only Between the Flags is a painting that portrays the sea as beautiful but never to be taken lightly. Set on the black-sand shoreline of Ōtaki, a small seaside town north of Wellington on New Zealand’s North Island, the work captures the West Coast’s distinctive atmosphere: vast, moody and slightly ominous, even on a calm day. The composition is spare, almost minimalist, yet loaded with meaning. A solitary lifeguard tower stands firm in the foreground, dark and geometric against a wide band of sea and an immense sky. On either side, small red and yellow flags punctuate the horizon, their bright colour striking against the subdued tones of land, water and cloud.
The black sand, rendered in deep browns and charcoal tones, anchors the painting in place and memory. West Coast beaches are known for this dark sand, and in the painting, it feels heavy, as though it absorbs sunlight rather than reflecting it. Behind it, the Tasman Sea stretches outward in a restrained strip of steel blue, calm at first glance but hinting at power just beneath the surface. The sea here is not painted as a sparkling invitation; it is a boundary, beautiful, cold and watchful. In this way, the work reflects the lived reality of growing up beside the Tasman. It could be glassy one moment and dangerous the next.
The sky dominates the scene with towering, swelling clouds that resemble moving mountains. They roll in layers from pale, sunlit cream to heavy slate grey, echoing the emotional range of the sea itself. The clouds feel like a memory of weather that changes faster than you can plan for, one of those coastal days where brightness and threat share the same horizon. Light catches the upper edges of the clouds and the top of the lifeguard tower, hinting at hope and safety, while the darker masses beyond suggest the sea’s unpredictability. This contrast between illumination and shadow becomes the painting’s visual language.
At the heart of the work is the idea of safety as both a physical and cultural knowledge passed down through experience. In Ōtaki, you grow up learning where to swim and where not to. You learn about holes, rips and sudden drops, about waves that can rise without warning and currents that pull with quiet force. Every summer, the sea reminds locals of its unforgiving nature. Against that reality, the red and yellow flags become more than equipment. They become symbols of survival. They mark out a narrow space where the ocean can be enjoyed with confidence, where vigilance and community create a fragile corridor of protection.
The title, Only Between the Flags, reads like a rule, a warning and a memory all at once. It speaks with the voices of parents, lifeguards, and local wisdom: this is the safe place; everything else is risk. The flags may be small in the painting, but they hold immense power. They declare that safety is not everywhere. It is earned, tended and marked. In remembering Ōtaki, the painting does not romanticise the sea. Instead, it honours the respect it demands. It is a portrait of a place and a lesson. Freedom is possible, but only within boundaries we understand.
Oil on fine portrait linen: 95 x 125 cm; 37.4 in x 49.2 in (Sold)
10 Only Between The Flags
Oil on fine portrait linen: 95 x 125 cm; 37.4 in x 49.2 in (Sold)
