Artwork: The Beat Goes On. From the COAST of LIGHT collection.
Spoken Light is an unreleased, ongoing collection of writing by Clarence Greenway. It has no publication plan and It may never have one. It feels good to share some of it here on the COAST of LIGHT blog anyway.
This piece is from August last year. (2025)
Roasted Aubergines
All of a sudden, the middle of summer and extroverted and olympic sized heat paints glitter on the trees, the streets are alive with limbs and the fluted masses grow like weeds burnt and backlit by a sun that never seems to leave the sky. It’s August says the collared dove.
All of a sudden, the fluted masses tip and tilt the planet against our favour in a bankrupt prance we cannot give up, better to have than to have not when in the oven as we are roasted aubergines and rice, simmering in stock with a lid on. Sanctions on our movement are ordered by the nearest star. We continue to be upbeat, lunch is served with a dollop of cool yoghurt. Can’t imagine the winter now. Can’t imagine the winter yet we are already backspinning towards it.
All of a sudden it will be that most wonderful time of the year. For some. I am reminded of time, defined by time once again as I catch a glimpse of myself growing old but the same. The outgoing heat leans on me, defeats me, defines me but what can we do but be defined, be defeated and carry on.
Two colours. One horizon. A sun that glows like a coin.
All That Glitters is one of those pieces that came together quickly. The warm orange and red of a southern Spain summer sunset, layered and blended in vitamin sea.
Dos colores. Un horizonte. Un sol que brilla como una moneda.
All That Glitters es una de esas piezas que tomó forma rápidamente. El cálido naranja y rojo de un atardecer de verano en el sur de España, superpuesto y fusionado en vitamina mar.
A year after the pandemic, Spain was still slowly shifting. Life returning, but carefully.
The Hours was written by Clarence Greenway in that period, between 2021 and 2022, in the bay area of Cádiz and briefly in England. It’s a book of observations, one hour at a time, from the garden, the beach, the woods, the towns nearby. Nature, light, the ordinary made strange by paying attention.
Here is one hour, from August, at Playa de Valdelagrana: (You can buy the book here.)
VIPALGE 500 Playa de Valdelagrana | 08:52 to 09:52 | Aug 3rd(2021)
In the shade of VIPALGE 500, I sit slunk at sea level on my beach chair. I sit eye to eye with the fairly distant, tiny little waves. The sand, well-combed by a giant rake, is a little chilly underfoot.
Cádiz across the bay is covered in breakfast light. The day is opening up and the shoreline is a string of well-spaced, bright pink, turquoise, electric blue and yellow beachwear.
The sea is a blue sheet elegantly tucked in to all curves of the bay. Sheets praise sheets, say the waves. A fisherman flings his hopes beyond them. The breeze tickles my elbows.
The shoreline is a long glance, a stroll, a ramble, a promenade and a tramp; a child runs to keep up with his dad; a runner checks his watch; a baby is comforted in their buggy; a man speed walks.
Over and over, over and over says the sea. The breeze tickles my left knee.
On the horizon there are five or six white acrylic paint splodges or what look like tiny feathers from pillows in between the headlands of Cádiz and El Puerto. The towns are like crab pincers guarding the bay. I am sitting in the middle, as if I could control them, ready to bite anything that dare enter. I am backed by a number of cheering palm trees.
To my right, pine-tree green comforts sandstone and to my left there is a ceremony of paddle boards floating out to sea like clouds. The sun is creeping towards me as it rises over VIPALGE 500 behind me. The world is as flat as a coin with little ridges of life and development. There are oblivious seagulls out near the horizon enjoying the blue snake-skin sea. There is more coloured beach-ware now. Rituals and routines say the waves.
I see the shadow of my head first and then my knees as the cool blanket is pulled from under me like a tablecloth, leaving me on a hot shiny table. The sun arrives on my neck and I immediately warm up like thawing toast out of the freezer. Above me, the temperature drops a degree every 100 metres.
My world comes alive with Andalusian light, a high contrast of seaside hues. I am sat on golden brown sugar, the sea is blue icing, the sunlight is butter mixed with olive oil and my mind a mixing bowl. Repeat, repeat say the waves.
I stand up, the wind thick with the smell of churros. It is 82 steps to the shore where an old man floats on his back in the shallows. Summer sizzle summer say the waves, welcoming my ankles. My tummy rumbles. I think of tomato and pate on toast. Here, food, says the sea.
A trail of smoke rises from Cádiz across the blue icing, a last extinguishing of night and the first suggestion of life, as the grindstone of the city gently starts turning. Second breakfast? Shouts a seagull.
I walk back over two patches of tiny shells and small stones, from hard wet sand to soft to slunk again. The shoreline is vanilla and bronze. It is body shapes of intent and contentment wearing hats. It is shirtless, long flowing, tight-fitting, hanging, untucked or rolled up and is that someone famous?
An overweight human wanders in and washes and bathes. A sail boat appears from behind Cádiz to hold the balance. The heat rises and three beach cleaners zig-zag past me like robots.
Nell arrives on her bike from down the beach, undresses and slips straight into the endless loosening blue knots of the sea. The day is really waking up. It is primary colours and now a partly blocked view by custom and habit. Cream treacle wash explore and figure out challenge sweat says the world. My neck is burning and a ferry is churning between Cádiz and El Puerto.
I walk down to the sea (now 65 steps) for a swim. The sun behind me starting to sting like a jellyfish.
Three pieces, one obsession: The golden light of late afternoon in Cádiz.
The first, Golden Hour, looks across the bay from Los Toruños Natural Park in El Puerto, the sky softening into gold, one layer of the composition coming from Anna Bellinger’s (@absowm) paint palette.
The second, Golden Hour (the cathedral), takes that same warmth and turns it on the iconic outline of the Cádiz Cathedral, orange against blue, bold and almost architectural in its simplicity.
The third, Golden Hours, breaks the cathedral into nine, a grid of perspectives, the same landmark seen from multiple angles, each panel a different fragment of that late afternoon light.
Three works, the same hour, the same coast. All available in the shop at coastoflight.etsy.com.
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HORAS DORADAS
Tres obras, una obsesión: la luz dorada de última hora de la tarde en Cádiz.
La primera, Golden Hour, mira a través de la bahía desde el Parque Natural de Los Toruños en El Puerto, el cielo suavizándose en tonos dorados, con una capa de la composición procedente de la paleta de pintura de Anna Bellinger.
La segunda, Golden Hour (la catedral), toma esa misma calidez y la dirige hacia el icónico perfil de la Catedral de Cádiz, naranja sobre azul, audaz y casi arquitectónica en su simplicidad.
La tercera, Golden Hours, divide la catedral en nueve, una cuadrícula de perspectivas, el mismo monumento visto desde múltiples ángulos, cada panel un fragmento diferente de esa luz de última hora de la tarde.
Tres obras, la misma hora, la misma costa. Todas disponibles en la tienda en coastoflight.etsy.com.
CHANCLA the cheap rubber pink of beach flip-flops. CALIMA the hazy, dust-filled sky that blurs the horizon during the hottest stretch of summer. TINTO tinto de verano, the red wine and lemonade mix. NOCHE the deep, warm dark of an August night, still holding the day’s heat.
Use them however you like. A wash of background colour, a single brushstroke, a filter, a frame. The prompts this month and every month can be found here.
Last month’s daily prompt number 20 (LINE) started simply: A few drawn lines on paper with my new calligraphy pen.
Those lines found their way under and over two different images. The first pasted into a circle and hung on a local wall. The second, layered over the beach at La Caleta (in Cádiz), both with some added colour from July’s colour as inspiration.
A line is just a line until it finds something to land on.
Join in the creative crusade at #COLCP26 and check out the prompts here.
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El prompt del mes pasado numero 20 (LÍNEA) comenzó de forma sencilla: unas pocas líneas dibujadas en papel con mi nueva pluma caligráfica.
Esas líneas encontraron su camino bajo y sobre dos imágenes diferentes. La primera pegada en un círculo y colgada en una pared local. La segunda, superpuesta sobre la playa de La Caleta (en Cádiz) los dos con algo de color de julio como inspiración.
Una línea es solo una línea hasta que encuentra algo donde posarse.
Únete a la cruzada creativa en #COLCP26 y consulta los prompts aquí.
This month’s COAST of LIGHT daily prompt number 17 (MATERIAL WORLD as a pattern) found its way into a new set of works this last week.
The material in question (as seen in the images above): a cracked window at Girona train station. The glass had fractured from the inside, internal stress mapped in white lines across the surface. I photographed it and brought it home.
Back at the desk, those lines found their way over photographs of Girona’s ancient fortress walls. The cracked light of time.
The resulting images are called FORTRESS (by day and by night)
Creativity must find you working. Take some pictures and join in on Insta tagging @coastoflight and #COLCP26. Check out the prompts here.
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El prompt mensual de COAST of LIGHT número 17 (MUNDO MATERIAL como patrón) encontró su camino en una nueva serie de obras esta última semana.
El material en cuestión (como se ve en las imágenes de arriba): una ventana agrietada en la estación de tren de Girona. El cristal se había fracturado desde dentro, la tensión interna trazada en líneas blancas sobre la superficie. Lo fotografié y me lo traje a casa.
De vuelta en el estudio, esas líneas encontraron su camino sobre fotografías de los antiguos muros de la fortaleza de Girona. Piedra y cristal. Ciudad antigua, luz agrietada.
Las imágenes resultantes se llaman FORTRESS (de día y de noche).
La creatividad debe encontrarte trabajando. Haz algunas fotos y únete etiquando en @coastoflight #COLCP26. Consulta los prompts aquí.
There is something that happens when a digital image becomes a physical object. The screen version is familiar, but printed, held in the hand, is something else.
I recently ordered 25 postcards through MOO, mostly recent work from the Coast of Light collection. No particular plan, just felt it was time to get some of it printed and in this case on postcards, giving me something to hand to friends when they visit, or send through the post the old-school way.
The selection more or less chose itself. A mix of mostly recent work: twenty-five small windows into the coast of light. Maybe you’d like to receive one?
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(Que Se Imprima)
Hay algo que ocurre cuando una imagen digital se convierte en un objeto físico. La versión en pantalla es familiar, pero impresa, sostenida en la mano, es otra cosa.
Recientemente encargué 25 postales a través de MOO, en su mayoría trabajo reciente de la colección Coast of Light. Sin ningún plan en particular, simplemente sentí que era hora de imprimir algo — y en este caso en postales, dándome algo que entregar a los amigos cuando visitan, o enviar por correo a la vieja usanza.
La selección se eligió casi sola. Una mezcla de trabajo reciente — veinticinco pequeñas ventanas hacia la costa de la luz. ¿Te gustaría recibir una?
This piece, originally created during The Advent Challenge ’25 started, as many do, with a photograph: a wall, the kind you find here in southern Spain, marked by sun and time.
Layered with palm silhouettes and the words CLAIM NOTHING fragmenting across the upper left, it became its own work, a COAST of LIGHT artwork.
Available now in the shop in various sizes.
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Audaz, cálida y silenciosamente desafiante.
Esta pieza, creada originalmente durante el Advent Challenge ’25, comenzó, como muchas, con una fotografía: una pared, del tipo que encuentras aquí en el sur de España, marcada por el sol y el tiempo.
Superpuesta con siluetas de palmeras y las palabras CLAIM NOTHING fragmentándose en la parte superior izquierda, se convirtió en su propia obra, un trabajo de COAST of LIGHT.
A few weeks ago I posted about spending a Sunday afternoon under the great ficus tree near La Caleta beach in Cádiz, watching Anna do bark rubbings on its trunk. You can read that post here.
Since then the image has continued to develop. The structure was already there: the sprawling branches, the scale, but the colour wasn’t right. New layering, new colouring, for me, has brought this image more to life.
Hace unas semanas escribí sobre una tarde de domingo bajo el gran ficus cerca de la playa de La Caleta en Cádiz, observando a Anna hacer frotados de corteza en su tronco. Puedes leer ese post aquí.
Desde entonces la imagen ha seguido evolucionando. La estructura ya estaba: las ramas extendidas, la escala — pero el color no era el adecuado. Nueva superposición, nueva coloración han dado más vida a esta imagen, al menos para mí.
COAST of LIGHT 