A Theatre of Waves: Continuing Profane Rituals Part 2 Project 2011 Rahul Vishwakarma Oxford Brookes University Oxford | UK Memoirs of A TravellerSeated facing the autumn sun a plate of crispy golden chips peer at me. A half-full stainless-steel glass shimmers as it catches warming rays, salt asleep in its shaker glints. Garrulous tourists embrace my space as a calm sea breeze brings segments of surreal fossil hunting and fishing adventures- Tales of profane local rituals.Curiously ascending worn slabs of Portland Admiralty Roach – a distinct tangy odour of sea residue matching the taste on my lips - I pleasurably view brushed steel supporting stained white cliff curtains. Dynamic folds and vertical ridges in essential harmony as cooling south-westerly winds playfully hide and continually unveil panoramic views. They glisten as salt crystals refract the azure-tinted spectacle.My feet, pressed against uneven ammonites, throb as I pass motionless Lymers and seasoned visitors watching a passenger-laden boat voyage towards a MONUMENTAL engine. Rhythmical mechanical creaking and groaning overwhelming calls from overhead seagulls, as fish/bird-shaped counterweights slowly appear from the sea. Using binoculars I witness gears and cogs tirelessly pumping intertwined machines; silhouettes Fishing, Diving, Chatting, Pointing, and Staring.Walking further I approach a series of lungs, breathing as filtered water Swishes and Gurgles through an industrial labyrinth. My eyes follow polished pipes back towards the TOWERING Sentinel. People stand filling and sucking water.Nearby an inviting structure: its silver reflective panels distorting a forbidding setting, whilst voids expose a concrete shell. I Shiver upon entering the claustrophobic cathedral-like cave feeling a stark change. Sounds are replaced by echoes of strained cables supporting overhead sacks, lighting limited to holes in the perforated ceiling. I stretch upwards removing a heavy sack and return to idealistic paradise.Narrow vision adjusts to lighter light … refreshing air … wind swept curtains … I lift the retrieved towards my dry lips anticipating a cocktail of sea memories. Icy water Trickles onto my tongue.http://vimeo.com/28761112Centralised on an offshore desalinating machine the proposal re-establishes trading connections in Lyme Regis, encouraging visitor participation in local rituals. Purified seawater is transferred to The Cobb for consumption, while hanging curtains captures sea salt used not least for seasoning fish and chips. Tutor(s)Prof David GreeneMr Toby Shew