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Frankie Locke ~ We see the movement, we sense the rhytthm, we feel the dance



Popples ~ Details


I speak of running fluent tides

Filling bubbling rock pools with swirling rings

Of cobalt, thick, between layered layering


Tales of sea washed pebbles, ice smooth,
ice grey, ice green.

Echo each ripple in circular sequence

Forms forming fine linear rings fall into
concave ceramic shallows.

Circumfluent undulations break into voids,

Fracture into droplets.


I tell of tumbling tides, rolling waves,

Pulling currents and ebbing seas

Of clay formed popples.



Choreographed Notions Gallery


Amongst Reflected Clouds Gallery










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