There is a calm that settles over the water when the wind does just enough. Not silence, not stillness, but a gentle agreement between sail and air. Seabreeze sits in that moment. The yacht is poised, sails filled but unhurried, waiting for nothing more than the next small shift. Pond yachts have always lived in this space between movement and patience, where progress depends less on force and more on understanding.
This gaff-rigged pond yacht dates from the 1920s, a period when model yachting reached its quiet peak. Medium in scale but confident in presence, it measures 1350mm long and stands 1400mm high, its proportions balanced and purposeful. I purchased this example from John Stephens Antiques in Remuera in 2022, drawn to the elegance of its rig and the honesty of its construction. There is no excess here. Everything has a job to do, and everything does it well.
In the 1920s and 1930s, pond yacht racing was a familiar sight in city parks and public ponds. It was a sport that welcomed the so-called Sunday sailor, offering the pleasure of sailing without the costs or complications of full-sized boats. No slips, no engines, no maintenance fees. Just wind, water, and judgment. Once launched, the yacht was on its own, set for a straight run across the pond, its course determined entirely by how well its skipper had read the breeze.
Model yachting was also a craft. Boats were built in sheds, garages, and school workshops. Woodworking, metalworking, casting, sailmaking—skills passed on through doing. Many manual arts classes built pond yachts as projects, teaching patience as much as technique. Those skills have thinned with time, and with them a certain way of making and thinking. The hope, always, is that they do not disappear altogether.
I have set Seabreeze in my backyard at Snells Beach. Looking east, Kawau Island sits to the left, steady and familiar. To the right of the mast is Beehive Island, also known as Taungamaro Island, and further to the right, the mainland rises into Scandrett Regional Park. The tide is high, the water clear, the shoreline gently dissolving into reflections. This is a place I know well, yet it never quite repeats itself.
On calm days, it is not unusual to see modern radio-controlled pond yachts racing here. Their technology may be different, but the principles remain the same. Wind must be read, lines must be set, decisions must be made early and lived with. Watching the skippers work is a reminder that skill has not vanished, only adapted.
The sea here is endlessly changeable. Light shifts, clouds gather and drift apart, colour deepens and fades. Seabreeze is less about speed than about balance—between past and present, craft and play, land and water. A small yacht, carrying a long history, moves quietly through a familiar stretch of sea.
Sea Breeze, Oil on Linen 95 cm x 125cm
