Of the many threads that entwine to become a body of work, one that had resonated for a very long time was a vague memory of an interview I heard on the radio with the writer Angela Carter. I cannot be certain if I remembered it or imagined it. If it happened it would be almost forty years ago. As I recall, remember, or imagine, Carter was describing how for life to leave the sea we had to wrap up, envelop the sea in our body and cells and carry it inside us in a bag as we crawled and walked upon the earth. We carry the sea within us. So, in the making and thinking, the thinking and making of this body of work, ‘Bodies of Salt and the Domestic’, our saline nature was a theme that ebbed and flowed throughout it. It was only after the work was finished that a colleague reminded me of briny passages from Angela Carter’s books. In The Bloody Chamber as the new bride steps down from the train she smells “…the amniotic salinity of the ocean.” And in The Passion of New Eve, Evelyn describes the salty smell of bodies as “…the primordial marine smell, as if we carry within us the ocean where, at the dawn of time, we were all born. This wild, rank, acrid odour hung about us; the smell of the first sea, that covered everything, the waters of the beginning.”