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At the start of the Stories project in fall , students were invited to contribute short autobiographical vignettes about the ocean. Here are a few of our favorite personal stories from the sea. It was the summer of My parents took my brother and me to a beach south of San Jose around the Monterey Bay area. I recall being very excited to go find those whitish-gray crabs in the sand right after the ocean water washes over the shore. I was wearing my favorite green hat with a light green bow on it. When we arrived to the beach I ran into the sand, feeling the grains enter my shoes and shift around with every step I took. Once we had set up camp, I started out playing in the sand, only briefly going to the ocean to retrieve some water in order to wet the sand. It was a windy day and pretty gloomy as well. My family was notorious for picking unlikely days to visit the beach because it meant there would be fewer people there when we visited. Eventually I migrated closer to the water, running away when it came close and quickly running to where the water had retreated to dig up some crabs. I did this for a while, picking up crabs and then releasing them back into the water. A huge gust of wind swept overhead; my hat was not as secure as I thought it was and it was picked up by the wind. It landed in the ocean water several feet from me. I called to my father to come retrieve it, but by the time he arrived all either of us could do was watch as the waves carried the hat further away from us until it it was out of sight. A few years ago, I was vacationing in Alaska with my family. We went to several places, such as Ketchikan, Skagway, and Juneau, but Juneau was most memorable to me. When my parents told my sister and me that we were going whale watching that day, I was excited because I had watched so many documentaries about these magnificent creatures but my interactions with them have been largely limited to the one or two whales that get beached and die each year at Ocean Beach near where I live. I had never seen a live whale in person, much less multiple whales. I wanted to jump in and know what was going on beneath the waters and know what thoughts were running behind their wide, intelligent eyes. But before I knew it, it was time to head back. The sun peeked out behind the clouds as I arrived at the dock, a gentle breeze greeting me. As I breathed in the crisp, salty air, closed my eyes, and braced myself for the experience to come, I felt strangely at home — like I was back at Ocean Beach. With a low rumble, the boat came to life and swept all of us out to the open ocean, bumping along the waves. I sat down and tried listening to a presentation about the humpback whales we were about to see, but my mind wandered to all those documentaries my sister and I had watched. When I gazed out, I saw ripples of foam marking where we once were, fixed in a trance until a faint exhaling sound in the distance interrupted my thoughts. Searching for the source, I came up empty and wrote it off as a general ocean sound until I heard it again, louder, coupled with a flick of a tail in the deep blue waters: a whale. Diving, feeding, breathing, and most importantly, living. Dazed, I got up and walked over to the edge of the boat to get a better look. I had never seen anything like them and was stunned by their majesty. Each time a whale came up for air, I could only see them for a few seconds, only one portion of their body appearing at a time: first their head broke the surface, then their body, and then with a flick of a tail, they were gone. Knowing how intelligent and complex these whales are, I was in awe in that moment and still am in awe of them today. Five years ago in the summer, my family and I vacationed on Vashon Island, a small town only accessible by ferry from the Seattle port in Washington. Once the emergency brake was pulled, everyone hopped out of the car, traveling up the deck to watch the waves roll past the boat toward the mainland. For minutes we saw nothing but open ocean and open air, yet it still captivated us as we clung to the steel rods that stabilized us on the rocking boat. That night we paddled kayaks alongside the shore, unhindered by the darkness that failed to come. Only when it reached ten did the darkness begin to creep over the trees, forcing us to make our way up the rocky shore and finally into the cabin. We watched the sun high in the sky as it guided us toward our destination. Slowly a small dark green spot expanded outwards, unveiling a circular island of trees, the greenery only separated from the ocean waves by thin lines of sand and large rocks formed and molded from years of ocean spray. Once docked, we drove into onto a road thickly lined with trees. We curved in and out until we finally reached the other end of the island, again meeting up with the sea. Although approaching eight at night, the sun still shone high, the water glistening below, sparkles dancing with each movement. A couple of years ago, my family went on a trip to Playa del Carmen a city near Cancun. The resort we stayed at was right on the beach. Our room specifically was beachfront with a back door that opened on a path to the beach. One day, I decided to go out and read the Stephen King book I had taken with me. My siblings were napping and my mom was out and about doing whatever she was doing. So alone, I walked barefoot to the beach, going from fresh grass to the warm sand in about twenty steps. The sky was a perfect sky blue and there were very transparent and thin clouds. The waves were lightly crashing, bringing with them large clumps of a kind of orange seaweed that ended up giving me a rash. The first twenty feet from the seashore in were empty and ready for games and workout or dance classes. The next twenty were filled with lounge chairs, small tables, and palm trees for shade. But in the back, there were these four large, blue, woven hammocks that were usually empty. I ended up reading for about three hours until I could no longer see the words on my book and the sun was almost completely set. The hammocks were definitely a part of my perfect reading setting so I took advantage of this. The moment was so perfect. The sound of the beach roaring lightly a few feet away was so enthralling, a woman even put her child down for a nap in the next hammock over. The air was always perfectly warm and if there was a breeze, which there usually was, it would bring a cool touch to your skin while bringing in the soft smell of the sea. Sand was stuck to everything. It was in my hair, stuck to my skin, embedded in my clothes, and scratching the hard cover of my book. A memory I have is when my family and I drove to spend a weekend at the sea. There was another family there who were about to leave, and they told us as they walked away that they had seen dolphins. The beach was surrounded by rocky gray cliffs and we were the only ones there, so the waves sounded crisper and somehow louder. The seaweed that lay everywhere was black and crumpled, and I thought it was trash until I smelled how fresh and sweet it was. I had no idea water could be any other color. I was also surprised at how white the waves were when they swept onto the sand. They were pure white and gone in a flash as the water sucked them back into the sea, over and over. There was a pair of them playing deeper in the water, and their tails dipped in and out of the water so fast I had to concentrate to see it. The waves were so loud there was no way I could hear them, and my parents pointed that out, but I swear I heard their bubbly laughter. A memory of the sea that I distinctly remember was the first time I visited Maui, Hawaii. My sister and I took a quick, three-day trip to the island during October , and it has to be one of my favorite memories yet. I remember the weather being extremely humid when I walked out of the small and empty Kahului Airport. The airport was not as loud as LAX, and you could hear the nearby trees moving with the wind and hear the native birds chirping. It was nice to sit and listen to the nature around us after a long day of traveling. My sister was actively trying to find a nice Airbnb that was inexpensive yet spacious. I had never slept in an Airbnb tent before, so I was weirdly excited. We love traveling on a budget. The morning of our first day at the Airbnb, we both woke up to the sounds of the local roosters that were crowing constantly at 6 AM. It was really annoying at first, but it ended up being pretty peaceful on the second day because it felt like we were camping in the middle of a forest or on a farm. Hawaii is one of those places that really forces you to sit still and observe everything that is around you. The native plants and animals are beautiful, and tt was so nice to just be consumed by it all. There is something special about being on an island. At the last day of our trip, we decided to just have a relaxing beach day. My sister randomly found a beach that was hidden behind an stand of enormous trees. I remember how quiet it was — all you could hear were the waves crashing onto the shore. The sand was white, unlike the Southern California beaches that I was used to. The water was not cold so I decided to take a swim. The water was extremely salty, but the waves were so calm. So calm that you could lie on your back and not have to worry about a wave crashing over you. I look back and realize that I found this beach to be so special because it was not busy. It was just a few of the locals having a normal day at the beach. I hope I can go back to that special place again very soon. The memories I have of the sea are sort of fragmented, as I often visited the beach when I was a child. During those hot summer days, my family and I would take rare day trips to Santa Monica or Zuma Beach all together. At the time, these days were special because it was rare for me to visit a new place outside Sun Valley where I grew up, and even rarer for my entire family to go on trips together. I was probably around seven or eight years old, and feelings of excitement and wonder filled my heart when I faced the ocean for the first time. The sound of the rushing waves which lulled with seafoam at my feet and the heat of the sun warming my brown skin, told me I was somewhere new and different. As a child I embraced these new experiences and I remember running around the coastline, arms outstretched, filled with laughter and enthusiasm for this new place I had encountered. Now whenever I see that photo or open my yellow container, these memories are flooded into the present. Other notable facts from those memories are my love of collecting seashells at the beach! I would bring containers and spend time picking up the tiniest of shells from the sand, relishing the treasures I could bring home with me, tokens the sea had gifted to me. Each shell was unique in its shape, decorated with various colored swirls, some smooth while others were more rigid, but I thought they were all beautiful. To this day, I still have my favorite ones tucked away in a yellow container. I remember how small my hand fit into his, and feeling nervous the waves would overpower me. However, the reassuring hold of my hand in his made me feel safe as we braved the increasingly growing waves. It was only a small moment out of all my trips to the beach as a child, but I think I recall it so vividly because my sister had taken a photo of us from far away. Now whenever I see that photo or open my yellow container, these memories are flooded into the present and I cherish them fully. One week before this past fall quarter, I had the opportunity to spend five days in Aruba with my father. My dad, who was working remotely, was able to travel wherever he pleased while working. Due to the shutdowns, many of his preferred destinations were not available, but the small resort island of Aruba, a Dutch colony about 20 miles across, just 15 miles off the coast of Venezuela, remained open for tourism, although it required all visitors to test negative for the coronavirus before entry was granted. I did not have much interest in the island — in fact I had never heard of it before this trip — but I felt that traveling abroad was an enriching experience in general, and was an opportunity to gain some wisdom about the world. The flight there was a bit stressful. It was my first time ever traveling alone, and I was responsible for managing the logistics of finding a place to park the car at LAX, while also arranging an overnight hotel stay in Atlanta, Georgia for my hour layover. When landing in Aruba, I stared out of my window seat. The airport runway was built right next to the shore, and I was immediately struck by the breathtaking clarity of the water, which was a beautiful emerald-green, and clear enough that you could see right to the bottom. To swim off the boat, look down, and see the large ghost ship resting below me was an eerie and memorable sight. My first day there was uneventful, having landed in the afternoon. The beauty of the endless horizon, dotted by distant oil rigs and hovering over the pristine ocean was embellished by my sleep-deprived mind. Sleep deprivation, I have found, is like a cheap and unpleasant psychedelic. The deactivation of my logical brain centers and my hazy vision made taking in the ocean and waiting for my food a gauzy, dreamlike experience. My dinner was a grilled rockfish steak, with grilled vegetables and Spanish rice, with a creamy cilantro sauce, and a Blue Ribbon beer. The food was passable, not particularly fancy. While we were eating, a large catamaran with a sail floated in next to the pier and unloaded a group of noisy tourists. It turns out that the restaurant was also a tour company that ran snorkeling tours, so we decided to book one of these tours. The day after that was the snorkeling tour. We boarded the catamaran early in the morning, and we were served a mediocre breakfast of cold pastries from a paper box. The tour guide delivered the usual safety spiel, introduced us to the open bar, and we were soon on our way. While people lined up for the alcohol, the captain put on a playlist of some party songs, which was some of the most annoying music I had ever heard in my life. During the tour, we visited three snorkeling stops. I was excited to finally immerse myself in the perfectly clear water, but I had a slight problem. I had never snorkeled before, and my experience with swimming had ingrained in me the instinct to keep my head above water if I wanted to breathe. As soon as I stepped into the water, I noticed it was the perfect temperature. Not warm enough to make you feel stuffy, and just cool enough to make you feel refreshed, yet not cold enough to bite you when you first entered. However, as soon as I fully immersed myself in the water, small waves splashed up and covered my face, which activated a reflex where I struggled and splashed in order to get my head above water. I had not yet gotten used to the fact that I had a snorkel, and it took me almost ten seconds of struggling before I managed to calm myself and practice breathing through my mouth while my face was under water. The tour guide saw me struggling, and for the rest of the tour, he somewhat patronizingly constantly checked in on me to make sure I was okay. I understand he had good intentions, but it still irritated me. There was not much to remember from the first spot, but the second spot we visited was the site of a German shipwreck from World War II. Just below, I could see the smokestacks and windows of the ship that rested at the bottom, split in two from its destruction when World War II was still escalating. The ship had now been taken over by sea life, algae and coral, and fish swam around and inside the abandoned hull. When I got home I learned that there was a large sea bass reportedly living in the front of the ship, but I had not seen it. By the third and final stop, I was feeling tired and a bit motion sick, but it was not enough to stop me from enjoying the water. The third stop was closer to the shore, and I decided to swim to the shore to see some pelicans resting on the rocks. On my way there, I swam through a school of small fish. The school was made up of thousands of small fish, with silver stripes that brilliantly reflected light off of one another. To get right in the middle of the school, I drifted up slowly, and the fish swam around me in random directions, creating a hypnotic light show. When I decided to suddenly move, the dispersed cloud of fish would spontaneously line up in the same direction all at once, and swim with me. Being in the middle of the school, I was surrounded by small, silver fish all around and below me, drifting in circles and reflecting the sunlight. Once, I kicked my leg down, and all the fish there instantly swam away, forming a perfectly circular crater around my leg. Eventually, I made it all the way to the rocks, and I popped up my head up above the water to observe the pelicans. They were well aware of my presence and all turned their heads to look back at me. I tried to somehow beam good intentions to them through my eyes. I stayed and observed them until the bobbing action of the water made my motion sickness worse, and I swam back to the boat. I finished that boat tour feeling how I would often feel on my stay there in Aruba: exhausted and uplifted. A memory of the sea I have is when I went to the Santa Monica pier a few years ago and I can still feel the excitement I felt to be able to go to such an iconic ocean site. I still remember the Santa Monica Pier being the beach everyone would go to in the Summer so getting to go for the first time was definitely a memorable experience. Near the beach, the hot sand would make us hop up and down until my classmates and I finally spread out the large blanket for us to sit upon. The insulated cooler chest would be placed on one corner of the blanket, while another person would set up the beach umbrella in another corner. As we started to walk towards the rides, we could hear so many kids, adults, and tourists shouting off the top of their lungs from the tremendous drop on their beloved rides. We could smell fresh popcorn being made in the background, popcorn whose taste is unlike any other. It was the perfect getaway trip. The feeling before you go on a ride is definitely something I always take in with me because it is the moment where you can feel a rush of adrenaline moving through your body and where you feel most present. My favorite one has to be the main rollercoaster not only for the the thrill that it gives you, but also because from it you can see the beautiful Santa Monica ocean view that really makes you appreciate the beauty of life. I did two types of snorkeling, morning and night, all I can say is that it was awesome. Snorkeling at night is just a different experience because you have to use a flashlight to see which makes it thrilling, yet a little frightening because you are in the middle of the ocean with only a flashlight. Because it was a group of us, it was a little hard to see clearly because there was little room and everyone kept splashing. When I was underwater my friend flashed the light and I saw so many little fish swimming around me and out of nowhere I saw a foot-long shark swim below me. I surfaced to I tell my friend to look but when she did it was no longer there. Being able to swim in the middle of the ocean during night time is one of the coolest experiences because you get to see different wildlife but also see the shining stars. I really love the water, I love swimming, I love doing adventurous things. I think it all stems from my dad who loves throwing himself off of cliffs to dive into bodies of water. For as long as I can remember, my family and I have always broken our first fasts of the holy month of Ramadan by the ocean. It had become a tradition for us to impatiently and hungrily wait the whole day for iftar the time to break our fasts to arrive, so we could just drive to the beach and open our fasts. In Ramadan of , I distinctly remember my family driving to Laguna Niguel with all the car windows rolled down, enabling the ocean to announce its presence as the ambrosial air was suddenly filled with the scent of the salty sea breeze intermingled with notes of freshly bloomed wildflowers. After parking the car, we set up our prayer mats and blankets on a patch of grass on a hill that overlooked the ocean. This allowed us to catch the last fleeting moments of the golden hour, as the sun bid the world farewell and tucked itself to sleep under the vast horizon. The blushing sea matched with the rosy and honey hues of the sky, but then gradually muted to a soft lilac shade. Every single sunset that I have witnessed at the beach has never failed to leave me speechless, and this sunset was no different. The sand was cold, and a salty sea breeze permeated the air. I decided to lie down, and suddenly the sound of the waves crashing on the shore became more muted and distant. Not long after, the moon came out of hiding and the stars started twinkling, which indicated to us that it was time to break our fast. I hurriedly went to pray so I could finally eat the food I had been dreaming about the whole day. I remember just grabbing a date, pouring myself a piping-hot cup of tea, and then sitting on the blanket as I watched the inky waves tirelessly kiss the shoreline. After my family and I finished eating our iftar , we decided to walk down to the beach to put our feet in the water. The only light that illuminated the path for us was the faint flickering of lamposts and the distant, yet comforting glow of the stars. My parents decided to just sit on the sand as they watched our two figures run back and forth on the abandoned beach. After a while, my sister and I got tired and decided to sit down next to our parents. I will never forget how the ebony sea blended seamlessly with the ocean full of stars above our heads. It was just as if everything in my life suddenly felt…perfect. I was in middle school when I was first present physically in front of the ocean. It was summer. I went to a beach in Beidaihe district, China with my family for the holidays. The very first sight I had of the ocean was through the window of the bus we took. It was like looking at a color palette. There is a big part of the blue it was actually not a typical blue, but grey-blue which is the ocean and there is a small part of light yellow which is the beach. When we got to the beach, I stood on the sand and looked at the ocean. Then, I was excited and a bit scared. I also got confused when I looked at the line between the ocean water and the beach. I had never seen a place like that. I wore no shoes on the beach and the sand was soft and hot. I stepped in the ocean barefoot and the water was even softer but also cold. I was curious so I followed her. Every step I took in the water was cautious, and I can still remember the feeling of my scalp tingling and fearing an unknown creature coming under the water to bite my feet. It was something beyond my realm of thought, which is hard to say because as children our imaginations are bursting with creativity. We have a million questions about the world, about the books we read, and about everything. The nearest beach was about five hours from us. Five hours here—in the U. We only went to places we could walk to. I had no idea what this meant, or what the world outside our town looked like, so I was excited, yet nervous. Since I kept asking questions about giant apples, and whether or not they would crush me, or if I could eat them, my parents had to clarify that we were going to a beach city, much like going to any beach city now. I wanted to prepare myself for what was to come. While I do remember the excitement, I also remember the ever so daunting anxiety that came with my father announcing that such a place actually existed. Keep in mind, I was scared of the fountains in the plazas, so my dad explaining that we were going to a place where the water seemed infinite made me nauseous. At last, the day came when we arrived to Manzanillo. It was nighttime so my first sighting of the ocean was only visible because of the bright, moonlit sky. The sound of waves meeting the shore was unfamiliar to me. So the last time I visited Newport Beach was last February. I was a second year. So we did: we drove over to Newport Beach at around 11am for our little beach date. There were a ton of seagulls that morning, so we took some pictures and explored the place. I remember getting ice cream there and, although it was just an average ice cream, nothing special, something about eating a chilly snack by the sea made the experience seem a bit more refreshing. Then it became pretty cold with the cool breeze, so I had my boyfriend lend me his large hoodie to. We spent the day checking out the Balboa Fun Zone, which is an amusement park with all the attractions and stuff. We visited souvenir stores. We found the shop advertising frozen bananas. We heard the occasional fits of laughter as we passed by an open bar. It was a sight to see. But I think the most memorable part of that day was when we got to go on the auto ferry. When we were done exploring Newport Beach, there was some initial confusion about the best route to go back —we drove all the way to the end of Balboa Pier, but at the time there would have been quite of bit of traffic hadwe tried to drive back the normal way. The auto ferry is a service that had ferry boats, so people can go drive their cars over to the place and…pretty much drive across the water, on a boat. If anything happened to the boat, the people would fall out first. I could even hear the waves and sloshing of the water and other typical sounds of the sea. Nothing bad happened between us, but we just lost contact and were able to reconnect. I was really excited to go to the beach because the last time I went before that August was March. We walked along the sidewalk, the railing on our right side as we walked. The weather was also pretty hot for San Francisco: high 70s to low 80s. It was also around 5 pm when we arrived there as we wanted to catch the sunset. We walked for a while as we wanted to find a less crowded area as there were people without masks on. We walked pretty much to the end of the beach and settled down on the sand. We sat side-by-side and just stared at the waves crashing in front of us. We just sat there and talked about whatever we could. We went from talking about how college was to just how life was in general and how we were handling the Covid situation. We talked as the waves crashed, dogs barked here and there, and people talked as they walked past us. Besides these sounds, we were pretty solely focused on ourselves. The waves kind of calmed down later and the sun started to set. The colors changed from blue to a bright yellow, orange, and red and we sat there until the sky was dark and no sunlight was left. One of my most vivid sea-related memories occurred around two years ago in the summer of My friend group at the time and I decided to reunite after several of us had gone our separate ways for college. It was around noon when we all decided to meet up. We arrived at our destination: La Jolla Beach. Parking was, and always has been, an excruciating hassle. So few parking spaces, so many cars. But we were fortunate enough to catch someone just as they were leaving. The blazing sun beat down on us as we set up HQ. It must have been almost degrees, as was made evident by the blistering hot sand that made it painful to walk even one yard barefoot. A group of about 12 people coalesced around a relatively small fire pit in order to grill the hot dogs and burgers one of us brought, as well as to hold the obligatory bonfire. I remembered that Daniel and Justin had arrived here at 7 am in order to claim the spot. They were dreadfully tired when we arrived. It had been a whole year since many of us had last seen each other. Kecheng spoke to me about his struggles with biology, and I shared the same sentiment. I then whipped out my football, and we tossed it to one another. I was the more experienced football player of the group, so I was throwing spirals with ease, while the others were struggling. Catching was a different story, as I was always prone to butterfingers. I look back on this with a bittersweet feeling, as I have gradually grown distant from them and we all have created new friend groups. After some tosses back and forth, and we decided to fire up the grill. We ate until we had no more food left, and boy were we stuffed! I could feel the cool water brushing along my leg as the ocean breeze hit my face and the smell of salt filled the air. After some fun splashing each other and running away from the waves, dusk settled in, and we played our favorite group game: mafia. One of us started up the fire pit once more as the games commenced. I am a terrible liar, so I dreaded being the mafia. Being put on the spot, trying to think of an alibi, all eyes on me. It was a lot of pressure that I could not handle. The festivities soon began to die down, and we all sat around the fire, taking it all in. Jason, Eric, and Keisi, in particular, took the lead and sang their hearts out. The clock soon struck 11, and we decided to finally call it a day. We all drove off, satisfied and happy with the day we had spent together. But the experiences and memories we all had together- the laughs, the fights, the arguments, the heartfelt moments — are ones I will cherish forever. Coming from very loving, protective, and watchful families, it was a big surprise that we were allowed to go at all. It was the summer before we were to transfer from community colleges to universities and actually live on our own. While both of our parents were terrified, they trusted us to make mature decisions and spend a night in a city three hours away from home. Summer and I had always prided ourselves on being spontaneously responsible people. We liked to do random things and have fun, but were always smart about them. We heard a lot of hollering coming from a more secluded part of the rocky cliffs along the shore. We saw dozens of people watching a group of twenty-somethings trying to convince a friend to jump off a cliff that was at least 50 feet above the ocean. Summer and I joined the crowd, anticipating the jump. Ten minutes later and the man was still standing at the edge of the cliff, not yet taking the leap. Summer and I looked at one another and simply thought, we could do that. We were wearing cute dresses and our hairstyles were adorable, but at the end of the day, this was an opportunity like no other. So we cut through the curious viewers to get to the crowd of cliff-jumping adults. After another fifteen minutes, the man finally jumped. Although he screamed, he expressed his joy upon rising to the surface of the water. Summer and I summoned up our courage and asked if the group would help us jump. The group of all boys and one girl was delighted to take us under their wing. Thinking about the moment that both of my feet left the sturdiness of the cliff still makes my heart beat faster and my lungs tighten. Being completely suspended in the air was terrifying and slow, yet extremely rapid and it is a great idea to make sure your legs are completely closed when you jump from a tall height into water—it will save your bum and your frontal pelvis from a whole lot of pain. I remember reaching the surface while my body was shivering and shaking from fear and the cold water. I locked eyes with Summer as the sun began to set, and we laughed and hugged while complaining about our butts, knowing that this memory would the sea will stay with us forever. I live in San Francisco which means that the ocean is always near. On one particularly chilly day, we decided to visit the beach, find a place in the sand, and have a chat until it got dark, but we quickly grew tired of this as we did it so often. So, to cure our boredom we decided to do as teenagers do and break a few rules by hopping a small gate to get to a restricted area of the beach. This area is restricted because it consists of a cluster of jagged, slippery rocks that lead to the ocean. It is extremely cold and the fresh, salty smell of the sea hits you immediately. If you stand on one of the taller rocks and look down, you can see the green waves gently splashing and swaying beneath you. The water droplets feel like lawn sprinklers as they hit your face and some of the rocks loom over you like giants equipped with razor- sharp claws. On windy days, the waves can sweep any unsuspecting person away as they reach great heights. It is also extremely hidden, so it is not exactly wise to go to this area; however, to us it was thrilling. The small hop over the fence ended up being worth it, as neither of us were harmed and we were able to climb to the top of the rocks to get a great view of the ocean and the beach. We stayed for hours to talk, journal, eat, and even yell as no one could hear us. This became a weekend ritual for us until the year we graduated, and she moved back to the Philippines. The summer going into 8th grade was the time my friend Amira and I became independent and free. Not really, but so we thought — with out matching Schwinn bikes and Muni passes public transportation system in SF the whole city was available to us. Amira lived a couple blocks away and we had become close that past year due to the bus route we shared going to our middle school. Every morning, I would hop on the bus and she would join me a couple stops down. There we would discuss homework, annoying siblings, and most important of all: boys. She was my best friend at that time — we shared everything from secrets to breakfasts to-go. Without school in session during the summer, we lost our reason to see each other routinely, and also our meeting spot. But we were biking around our neighborhood one day when we discovered that Baker Beach was only about a mile away — growing up in the San Francisco weather, I had thought of beaches as more for aesthetic purposes than for play. Baker Beach was a small treasure with rocky cliffs and, on the clear days, a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. If you were brave enough to cross from one boulder to the main cliffs, you found yourself sitting above the crashing waves hidden from sight of the main beach. My freshman year at UCI was great because of all the new people I met at my dorm. We got to know each other better throughout the year, but one moment stands out in my memory. I see that it is one of the class coordinators named Jairus. He was only a junior, and he was in charge of leading class discussions that were mandatory for all 50 kids in my hall. He noticed that people in the class were still shy around each other and he wanted to fix that. He planned to take a group of us to the beach in order to get us out of our shells. We ended up going with 10 other people from our hall. Being at the beach was so peaceful and relaxing despite the cold wind. Luckily we all brought cozy jackets. It was dark and I had only ever been to the beach during the daytime so it was a brand-new experience. That night I met several other people in my hall and got to know them a bit better. Later on, we drove to Seaside Bakery. Jairus had talked about this place on our drive to the beach so we were all eager to go there. We all had chocolate donuts that warmed up our hands which had previously felt numb from the cold air. At this point, we felt a lot more comfortable with each other. We ended the night by taking some group pictures on our phones and adding each other on social media. It was a nice way to begin some new friendships. I used to go to the beach often with my family. We would pack some fruit and drinks for the trip. Before we would leave, we would check if we have properly locked the doors. During the car rides, I would enjoy looking at the window to guess how soon we would be near the ocean. One of the best memories I had at the beach was when I was about Unfortunately, I do not remember what beach but, my uncles took my cousins, my brother and me there. We arrived before sunset and stayed there until the sunset. The beach was not crowded like the beaches that my parents would drive me to. I played in the shallow part of the water with my cousins, while also collecting some pretty seashells. After growing tired of playing in the water, we played on the sand. We had an empty water bottle and we decided to use it as a tool to play with the sand, attempting to make a sandcastle but ended up with just a tall pile of sand. At first, I was scared thinking that they could hurt me but one of my cousins showed me how the sand crabs are harmless. My cousins had a competition to see who could find the most crabs as I curiously observed them. I remember feeling at peace and happy just from simply being with family, collecting seashells, catching sand crabs, and watching the sunset. Feeling completely tired, we all waited to catch a glimpse of the sunset and left. It was the first time where I felt deeply bonded with my family and this memory will always be dear to my heart. Growing up, the beach has always been a place of comfort for me. Even just picturing it in my mind brings me that same feeling of comfort, of warm nostalgia, of memories lost, like a seagull growing smaller and smaller as it flaps its wings, disappearing into the horizon. So I jumped at the chance to be able to go there to celebrate my high school graduation. Even a few miles away from the coast, I still remember the freshness of the ocean breeze in my face as I rolled the windows all the way down, a freshness that felt like like those distant memories. Memories can still be made here — memories can still be made in general, even in times of isolation and chaos. When we parked the car in front of a tilted parking meter, I remember just taking more than a few moments just taking it all in, hearing the distant caws of seagulls, of the calming, infinite crashing of the waves, the scent of fresh ocean water, the cool breeze kissing my face. I took some photos with family to commemorate graduation, and maybe the mask I wore made things feel a bit different, but nothing makes one feel more free than seeing the endless, vast ocean in front of you. The crash of the tide is like a whisper in my ear, telling me that the memories I had here were not completely lost to time, like that seagull reappearing from a distant horizon. In some ways, the pictures I took and the sketches I made that day reassured me that memories can still be made here — that memories can still be made in general, even in times of isolation and chaos. It was August of last year that I happened to have the chance to enjoy the pleasures of being on the beach. I was on vacation with family members in Mexico, and we were invited to see some family members at Melaque, Jalisco, where their home was right on the bay. We decided to explore the beach on the second day following our arrival and were exposed to such authentic Mexican culture. People were enjoying the view of the bay on wooden beach chairs while others were offering fresh fruit and exotic drinks like tuba which is hard to come by in the states. The environment was welcoming and enjoyable; it distracted people from the fact that it was a cloudy day. My party and I decided to walk towards the calmer part of the bay and take a swim. In water that was warm to the touch and salty, we were able to relax and float with the gentle waves as they brushed through our bodies and gracefully met with the sand. This peaceful moment did not last long since I insisted on trying our luck at the most active part of the bay, where the waves crashed on the sand with more force. In hopes of having some fun, my party and I made our way to the other side of the bay. Once we reached our destination, I almost immediately regretted my decision. The dark body of water almost seemed like it was swallowing everything in its path and spitting it back out when it reached the shore. Someone advised us that once a wave hits, we weree to run into the water and swim as much as possible out into the deep to avoid getting caught in the moment just before the wave is about to hit the beach. As we ran, we fought against the force of the water that was pushing us towards the coast, only to then find ourselves in a constant struggle of keeping ourselves afloat wave after wave. At this moment, I realized that I was nothing compared to this dark body of water, especially when each wave came towards us; it was almost as if one was looking at a large wall pushing forward, leading us into an abyss. Unable to jump over the wave, we were forced to dive into the water in hopes of not getting caught by the current. Ultimately, we decided to give up in this struggle and get out which was another mission itself. Once we saw that the wave hit the shore, we ran out, but the force of the water overwhelmed us. We were pushed out of the bay with the impact of another wave. That day I learned that the sea can be marvelous and terrifying at the same time and that one should be humble when they are testing their abilities against a force of nature. A not-so-fun fact about me is that I am deeply afraid of birds. Their beady eyes scare me, as does their ability to fly anywhere, with almost nothing stopping them. The story of where this fear comes from actually takes place at the beach. We set up a blanket near one of the cliffs, which provided us with shade and an easy landmark for us kids to look for if we got lost. My brother, our family friend and I had become a team that day, spending the majority of the day together. We swam and pushed each other against the waves. We chased each other around the beach, laughing and enjoying our time outside. We even found a cave and we walked as close as we could until an adult scolded us and told us there were too many sharp rocks for us to actually walk in there. All the running, swimming and laughing had us tired out. We went back to the picnic blanket where we found our parents gossiping and laughing with one another. They offered us towels and water to cool us down and replenish us. As we sat there, the cacophony of laughing tourists, crashing waves and seagulls blared in my ears. I was tired and ready to go home. Right then, our family friend offered me a bag of Hot Cheetos to sate my hunger. It was a nightmare. I left the beach feeling hungry, tired and scared, and fearing birds forever. Scuba diving is a beautiful experience and it is truly wonderful to watch life in the ocean as it swims past. That along with the feeling of basically flying is essentially ecstasy. It truly is a dreamlike landscape. However, it does come with certain dangers. Many things could go wrong in a scuba session, from your tank emptying out, your pipe breaking, to something as simple as your glasses falling off. The thing about scuba diving is that they do have security measures in place for this kind of stuff. They will take you to a swimming pool and have you practice before actually allowing you to dive in the ocean. The licensing process also clearly says that you should always scuba dive with a buddy. However, there are dangers that are out of our control, like encounters with wildlife. I was happily swimming along the coral reefs of Sharm El-Sheikh. I was looking out into the open waters between a set of reefs and suddenly saw this shark swim right in front of my face! I panicked and froze. It must have been around 8 feet long. I went back to my instructor and made the symbol for danger but he calmed me down and said there was nothing dangerous. Later when we rose up, he asked me what was wrong and I said there was a shark. Everyone started laughing because they thought I was joking until one of the instructors working in the hut ran over and asked if we had seen the shark, at which point everyone stared at me in disbelief. I may have been scared to death, but it was one of my most memorable life experiences. Skip to content …I move in the university of the waves. Several whales, in fact. I ended up reading for about three hours until I could no longer see the words on my book and the sun was almost completely set The hammocks were definitely a part of my perfect reading setting so I took advantage of this. But she understood exactly why I took so long. If I could go back to any moment, it would be this one. The next day was not the tour; instead we drove a UTV around the island. What do we do as young adults on our own for the first time? We jump off cliffs. This became a weekend ritual for us until the year we graduated and she moved back to the Philippines. On windy days, the waves can sweep any unsuspecting person away. Skip to toolbar Search.

UCCA Dune: “The Rearview Landscape, or a Trip of Ownership”

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At the dawn of the twenty-first century, as information technology develops at breakneck speed, our globalized world has entered into an unprecedented era of political, economic, and cultural acceleration, until the sudden halt upon the arrival of the COVID pandemic in In turn, we have reawakened to the latent potential catastrophes of anthropocentrism, as well as the systemic failures that have long lurked beneath fracturing geopolitical and ethnic conflicts. As global economies become increasingly and irrevocably intertwined, forging a collective way forward becomes a question that perhaps requires transcending current paradigms and modes of operation. Far from a mystical philosophy, planetary consciousness points to the intrinsic interconnectedness between all earthly beings and our common, symbiotic survival, underscoring the fact that human beings are not unique in their claim to the universe. To possess planetary consciousness is to admit decentralized connections and the possible coexistence of complex and diverse multitudes. In our epoch of world-homogenizing technocracy today, planetary consciousness recalls an utopic ideal in an older spirit of cosmopolitanism, exploring, examining, and embracing the potentials of systems of knowledge outside human civilization. They confront the dispersal of identity, a byproduct of the constantly accelerating operational systems of human civilizations today, and trace the formation of a collective unconscious. Through lenses both micro and macro, artists retrace the flow of energy and examine our self-cognition as human beings. In his video installation, Hu Wei samples footage from early commune spaces and reflects on the standardizing effect digital technology and societal relationships have exerted on life itself. The artists explore various organic systems, transforming their individual experiences into strange objects of perception. Their works are a reflection on the operational mechanisms of our society and mark a new struggle against the frustrations of our limited knowledge. Alan Bogana b. His practice involves sculpture, computer graphics, electronics, time-based media, and holography, and his artworks are usually presented in the form of installations. During the last years, his research has focused on the exploration, real and fictional, of the behavior of light and its interactions with matter. He investigates this broad field of study through various means, such as computer graphics simulations of impossible phenomena or the manipulation of translucent, phosphorescent and holographic materials. He has exhibited in Europe, the U. Cao Shu b. He works with media such as digital simulation, immersive audio, and video games. His work anticipates a sense of novel alienation as a result of encounters between different cultural contexts. Yin-Ju Chen lives and works in Taipei interprets social power and history through cosmological systems. Utilizing astrology, sacred geometries, and alchemical symbols, she considers human behavior, nationalism, imperialism, state violence, totalitarianism, utopian formations, and collective thinking. Recently, she has been exploring the material effects of spiritual and shamanic practices and the metaphysical potentialities of consciousness. Chen Zhe lives and works in Beijing graduated from the Los Angeles Art Center School of Design in with a bachelor's degree in photography and imagery. The work draws from graphic and textural materials from different cultures and histories and pay particular attention to the comparative study of reading experience and viewing experience. Each chapter of the project both stands independently and interacts with each other to weave an evolving three-dimensional network. Hu Wei b. They have worked collaboratively since In their work, natural processes merge with conceptual and sculptural gestures. The duo explores diverse subjects from mythology, ecology, secular spirituality, to altered states of consciousness and sexuality, often in a visceral manner. They are most known for reframing the nature-culture polarity in installations and ritualistic performances. Anton Vidokle b. Shao Chun is a new media artist whose artistic practice encompasses multimedia installation, e-textiles, post-internet art, and novelistic design. Between and , Shao taught and pursued a ph. After completing her ph. Yu Bogong b. Zhou Junsheng b. Rather than producing visible and reproducible photographs, his work resolves around the performance and interactions with his photographic activities. His practice encompasses the history of photography technology, the history of photography concepts, and photography education. Zhang Wenxin b. Zhang uses video, computer animation, photography, and installations, combined with writing and music, to construct process-oriented perceptual experiences. Chen Xin b. His recent works mainly focus on recursive and meta-fictional thoughts, human-machine integration, and group emergence effects. As an undergraduate student, he established the NO. ZA media art group, with main research directions in audio-visual live performances, virtual reality and interactive installations, sound art, and social media art. Designed by OPEN Architecture, its galleries unfold over a series of cell-like spaces that evoke caves. Some are naturally lit from above, while others open out onto the beach. Buy tickets. Cao Shu Cao Shu b. Hu Wei Hu Wei b. Anton Vidokle Anton Vidokle b. Shao Chun Shao Chun is a new media artist whose artistic practice encompasses multimedia installation, e-textiles, post-internet art, and novelistic design. Yu Bogong Yu Bogong b. Zhou Junsheng Zhou Junsheng b. Zhang Wenxin Zhang Wenxin b. Chen Xin Chen Xin b. View All Close. Digital Copy of the Exhibition Guide. Works in the exhibition View All. View All. Installation Views. Exhibition Support.

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