Down to the Beach
- Sue Hand
- Jul 14
- 3 min read
One of my favorite authors, Henry Beston, once spent a year on an outermost beach on Cape Cod. He wrote in The Outermost House, his best-selling autobiographical book about that year: “The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of the outer ocean on a beach.” The beach. Ocean’s edge. Sea breeze. Sea mist. Beach weather. These phrases inspire mental pictures in most of us who love the space where land meets sea, whether it's the rockbound shores of New England, the cliffs of California, or the sand-covered spans along our Mid-Atlantic and Southern states. I especially love beaches on lonely days in the off-season when hardly anyone or anything is active except the wind!
Why do I love the beach when it's too cold to go for a swim or sun on the sand? First, I cannot swim. This body has not slithered into a swimsuit in many decades and it never will again! So if you can swim, enjoy one for me! Secondly, I have beach sand paranoia. I detest sand stuck to my body! When I'm plein air painting, if sand blows onto my watercolor palette, that’s alright because it adds texture to the wet-in-wet washes and dry-brush passages. With oil or acrylic paint, the added texture gives great authenticity to the scene! But if sand is stuck to my feet or face, arms or legs, front or back… absolutely NOT! A recent visitor to my art studio shared a momentous tip that may prove life-changing for me: sand brushes off the human body easily with the addition of a bit of baby powder! Still, on a hot, sunny, crowded, beach day, did you ever consider to whom that sand was stuck an hour ago? Or where it was stuck? No, thank you! I’ll plod through sand in an upright position, fully clothed on an off-season day, complete with shoes, slacks, shirt, and perhaps a jacket. No stuck-on sand for me!
Despite being a non-swimmer, I love the Jersey shore with its strands of sand, inlets and islands, squawking birds and salt-scented sea breezes. And that's what I try to paint: the feel, the smell, the personality of the beach.
“Quiet Coast” is a watercolor painting of a quiet New Jersey beach in October when all is lonely and quiet.
“Sea Breeze” is just that: an acrylic painting of breeze at the seashore! We cannot see actual wind, but we can see its results. In this painting, the sea grasses rhythmically bend, the fencing leans from prevailing wind, and sand piles up against sea grass roots. The sky is blue but the air is thick with sea moisture. I actually began this painting back in 2012 as a paint-along with one of my high school students who was beginning her first acrylic. After guiding her through the first few layers of color application techniques, I set my painting aside and coached as she completed her own artwork from my reference photo. Somehow, my painting became part of a group of canvases “lost in the shuffle” for a dozen years, forgotten and unfinished. Last year the lost was found and I completed the painting for this article, 13 years later!
“Cape May Lifeboat” was a challenge, not because of the painting process but because of what I went through to take the reference photo! It was hot, humid, and crowded in Cape May in late July. I was in town as part of a television crew. Just before our departure, I ventured out onto the sand, fully dressed in shorts, t-shirt, shoes and socks. The beach was fairly quiet, no refreshing breeze. I snapped a few reference photos and escaped. Safely back home InSide the Back Mountain, I first carefully drew the scene by eliminating quite a few beach sitters with sand stuck all over them. I wanted to showcase the boat, the shore, and the sky. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed painting the footsteps in the sand! I'm relieved to report that no sand previously stuck to anyone else’s body was stuck to mine in the creation of these three paintings!
Even though I don't enjoy sitting on the beach sand, I certainly do enjoy painting its image! Do you love sun and surf and sand? Which beach is your favorite? Is anyone else an off-season aficionado like me? Whatever our preferences, we can, like Henry Beston, remove the noise of today’s world and thrill to the sound of the ocean and the wind in the grasses and trees.
This article originally appeared in the July 2025 publication of InSide the Back Mountain.
