OCEAN looks at the sea from far enough away that it turns into a pattern. From a plane window the water stops being a surface and becomes a chart: islands, shallows and deep channels, drawn in blue, teal and orange.

Each composition begins with a scatter of points, joined into a network of flat triangles. Every triangle takes its colour from the depth of the water it covers, from deep teal across the open slope to a pale reef rim and a sand cay. Around each triangle a circle is drawn through its three corners. Where the triangles are small the circles crowd together, and where they are large the rings open out.

Depending on the hash, the water gathers into an open lagoon, a scatter of reef, a ring-shaped atoll, or a cluster of islands that share one sea. Where deep water meets shallow water, a fine line of foam can appear.

Fish drift across the surface in loose shoals, and sharks pass through. They are built from the same facets as the water around them, so they belong to it rather than sit on top.

I have loved the sea since I was a child: the islands, the sharks, the fish, and the blues, teals and oranges of water and sky. The first time I saw it from a plane window, it looked like the dream I had been carrying, drawn as a map. OCEAN is that view.