coastal academia

but i feel like i need major help for this one…

so far, i think call me by your name and the lighthouse might be options??

i haven’t seen ammonite yet but…maybe?

a field guide to coastal academia

part seven

so, yesterday i explained the first of two subsets i have determined fall under the coastal academia umbrella.

coastal academia: dockside was yesterday’s topic.

and coastal academia: seaside is today’s.

when i first thought of the coastal academia aesthetic, this was what i imagined.

shores covered in the faded footprints of a scholar lost in thought.

the ratty sheets torn off your dorm mattress, turned to a makeshift picnic blanket for wine-filled study dates.

the gull’s feather bookmark in your journal.

a local cafe, the perfect study spot after high season is gone. bleached floorboards dusted in sand.

a salt breeze through your open window. papers flutter in the still-warm air.

idk..what do you think??

ps: i had a harder time finding good images for this!!

a field guide to coastal academia

part six

i think that, the deeper i get into coastal academia, the more i realize things.

first, that there are two subsets forming—the first that initial idea i had, of a warm seaside environment.

but it has grown, evolved into something more than it was in those first days.

and it all comes down to this: we can’t ignore all other coastlines.

so i bring to you the first subset of coastal academia.

called the dockside subset.

think high cliffs, rocky shores, grey lighthouses draped in mists. smell the sweet brine, walk through icy waves in rain boots.

or imagine the gilded fog of sunset, the autumn chill in the twining sea breeze, the rise of rock formations and gulls on the horizon.

i’ll bring the next subset soon but after…should we get deeper into these subsets?

a field guide to coastal academia

part five

coastal academia isn’t just living with or observing the seas. it’s about seeing ourselves in its ebb and flow: as fragile, transient beings, endlessly searching.

these paintings help capture the moods + themes.

• snow storm (turner): the power of nature, chaos that humbles knowledge

• the birth of venus (botticelli): a myth rising from seas, beauty born of impermanence

• isle of the dead (böcklin): liminal space, a coastline as a threshold between worlds

• monk by the sea (friedrich): deep solitude, study, and human smallness before the vast

• the fighting temeraire (turner): the dignity of endings, ships fading into history

part four

visuals for coastal academia, as with other aesthetics, are important.

let’s begin with color.

i’m thinking whites, creams, and beiges, along with an array of blues, ranging from navy to sky to sea foam…

• the steel of a summer storm

• the silver of an autumn fog

• the grey-blue of a blue-hour sea

• the golds of sun-hot sands

• the straw of espadrilles

• the faded browns of driftwood

and now fabrics.

i’m seeing gossamer curtains, shore-softened denims, a taut mainsail.

• clothing in ruffled linen and softest cotton

• a pop of ivory boucle

• crisp button ups, sleeves rolled

• gauzy ribbons hanging from half-up hairstyles

• silk scarves around necks or covering curls if the top is down

• flowing dresses, snapping around calves in the wind

• lace-trimmed details: collars or sleeves

• leather boat shoes

• canvas satchels, laden with books

• wool cardigans and cashmere sweaters

y’all got more to add? any better ideas here?

part three

let’s talk the themes associated with coastal academia.

• impermanence: tides rising and falling, waves erasing footsteps, the gentle shift of the shoreline, erosion and weathering

• transience: birds flocking with seasons, vacationers + travelers

• isolation: lonely coastal villages, cliffsides, shorelines, and the edges and ends of the world

• exploration: toes in the sand and under fingernails, a rolled up navigation chart

• nature’s power: the seas teach, destroy, + remember

• decay: wood rotting + metal rusting, pages of an old book damp from sea spray

• folklore: ghost stories and haunted seas, sirens, sea gods

• liminality: in-between places

part two

let’s wade deeper into coastal academia, maybe spend a day in the life of an imaginary academic?

• a long walk along a mist-covered quay, kicking loose pebbles into the water. curls mussed from sleep and a lack of caffeine. the bite of the sea breeze rushes right through a pair of navy linen trousers. at least you’d the foresight to throw on a cardigan. you carry a tote filled to capacity. it is a collection of texts—perhaps classics or myths or histories or natural sciences—and journals or notebooks.

• you turn the corner and move up the main road, for a little cafe that’s busy enough to feel lively, soft enough for some light reading. you order something, a favorite drink. could be tea or coffee. you draw a notebook out of the depths of your bag, scribble out a plan—a list of sorts—as the glass front door opens and closes with a chime. salt air wafts inside. sand spills across the floor boards, scraping ever so slightly against the soles of a few dozen sleepy shoes. you write and sip…lost within a tide table or folklore, dreaming about your am class: a lecture on the green lawns of university, the dancing shadows of palm forms or oak branches underfoot.

• you join the wave of students beneath the limestone arches, bruises under eyes, salt clinging to lashes. the athletes prowl past in activewear, some damp with an early run, others dripping ocean water on the cracked walk. it smells like all mornings do, fresh and clean.

• classes are enjoyable, filled with bright lecture halls, a fluorescent-filled lab or two, a breezy lunch within a chilled eatery on campus. you order a sandwich/chips today, something fresh to nosh on as you head for the beach.

• you spread a blanket, search for shells, relish the sea breeze for an hour or two with some friends. sharing a snack of figs and cheese, you talk ancient seafaring or debate the classics. you pick up after yourselves, even after others—travelers too lazy to care for the world.

• you amble home, trousers rolled to the ankles still. a swath of golden light fills the dormitory. it falls across an array of loose papers and pens: a map of the stars, the iliad, or a diagram of a lighthouse. you crack open a window, ensure the scrap of driftwood holds firm all your notes and ideas, and sink into studying. you light a candle after sunset and put on a kettle.

• you fall into your favorites, then select one to take to bed, where you curl up, sandy-toed and yawning.

ok, now let’s spend an actual, modern day together as that was just pretend.

let’s see…what can one do?

• wake up an find the sun like a cat, basking in its light until you peel yourself off the cushions. preferably this is outside, of course.

• find some form of caffeine and enjoy it. sure, you are probably wanting to read something. select one of the longstanding favorites: newspaper, poetry, last night’s notes. or write in a journal or plan your whole day.

• go on an afternoon bike ride to clear your thoughts of clutter or, perhaps, a swim in a pool... you can certainly walk along the shoreline if that’s accessible to you. just make sure you’re checking flag status and warnings.

• sip decaf teas in the afternoon, cocoa in the evenings when it finally cools down. make a homemade meal—a grilled filet of choice, or a fresh salad with vine-ripened tomatoes.

just…i don’t know, live more slowly? yes, it’s academia.

yes, it’s romanticizing studying and all that too. but let us face it—it’s hot! we’ve got to take it slow here.

part one

let’s begin with the big picture here.

coastal academia is the warmer-weather sister to dark, light, and classic academia. in locales where wools and tweeds and blazers are oppressive, linens thrive.

think seaside universities, full of golden light, the blues and silvers and coppers of stained glass glowing in the late afternoon sun.

imagine the call of gulls, high overhead, the greys of an incoming thunderstorm, a lighthouse wreathed in mist.

feel the flutter of linen in the salt air, the cool spray of a wave that breaks against the hull of a fishing vessel.

sounds lovely, right?

coastal academia blends dockside and seaside—a mix of maritime and beachfront.

it’s cartography, and star charts, and weather and tide patterns. it’s researching the power of salt, the history of ancient ports, and trade routes. it’s reading folklore and mythologies involving the seas.

it’s also marine studies and environmental science.

it’s lectures outside, beneath a pale blue sky. it’s open windows, the fluttering of gossamer curtains across a light wood desk. it’s morning walks along the shore or cliffside, a sketchbook in hand.

it’s a cardigan over your shoulders, since the ac in any building is so low. it’s dune grass bookmarks and little shells tucked in pockets.

it’s the rocky, cliff-covered coast of the mediterranean and the beach-lined flats of the southern states.

and it’s still coming together..

so i’m gonna invent coastal academia, k?

to begin, here’s the first bit of info + inspo:

• linens, cottons, and other natural fibers

• sand stuck between journal entries or book pages

• sleeves rolled to elbows, trousers rolled to ankles so a stray wave won’t dampen the material

• salt air swirling through coastal coffee shops, stirring the pages of a classic novel or poetry volume

• interests in ancient port cities, maritime history, tide patterns, or the weather

• fresh fruit in wooden bowls on low wooden tables

• debate and discussion by the bonfire

• canvas totes laden with leather-bound books, bottles of wine, and sandals or boat shoes

• boating and, perhaps, fishing if you’re into that too; a lunch of your fresh catch with a lemon drizzle

it’s part warm weather, part cliffside university, and the impermanence of beautiful things.

thoughts?