Water babies. That’s what my sister and I were known as growing up. If we were nowhere to be found, all you had to do was look in our backyard pool, our neighbour’s backyard pool, the Aquatic Centre pool or the beach. Never sun baking, always making up games or frolicking in the waves and rockpools. Some of my favourite childhood photos are of us, tanned and freckled with wet hair dripping down our backs and watermelon smiles.
It’s decades (gulp) later, and being underwater is still my favourite place in the world. The silence, the mottled light, the ability to move in any direction, the weightless floating, splashing, diving, bombing. I even found love there once-upon-a-time, below the waves off the coast of Papua New Gunea, SCUBA kit strapped to my back, future husband freaking out at an approaching sea snake, his eyes popping in fright, magnified 20x by our face masks.
I still swim as often as I can here in London, but the crowded, over-chlorinated, over-heated, too-short public pools are a poor imitation. I need other stimuli, which is why I was so happy to stumble across Aussie photographer Mark Tipple and his Underwater Project.
This is what heaven looks like.
Oh, and the headline for this post was inspired by brilliant song – of the same name – by Smoke City.
To find out more about Mark Tipple and The Underwater Project, click here.
All images courtesy of Mark Tipple.