Ghost Fluke: a story of coastline and creation at Arctic Canvas

Ghost Fluke began on the wild edges of Snæfellsnes. Walking along the black sand beaches and scouring the volcanic coves, I collected fragments of ghost gear tangled in the tide line. Ropes frayed by salt and storms. Nets caught in basalt cliffs. Plastic debris stranded in moss and driftwood.

Each piece carried its own story, a trace of the ocean’s unseen struggle, a reminder of how fishing gear lingers long after its intended use. Collecting these fragments was not about clearing a beach, it was about listening, hearing nature’s messages whispered through this plastic’s presence. The coastline itself became a collaborator, offering the threads of raw materials for a story that needed to be told.

One of the most unforgettable finds

A colossal fender, I first spotted it from a distance. A strange shape wedged against the cliff, impossible to identify until we drew closer. Mark worked patiently to loosen it and, with a final tug, it broke free from the rock’s grip. To give a sense of scale, Mark is 6’7” — and even beside him this piece of ghost gear looked immense.

As I stood there, I realised it was close in size to the fishing gear that once entangled Bird, the humpback whale I helped rescue – read more on that, here. That connection hit hard. Here we were, about an hour’s walk from Arctic Canvas, hauling this huge fender and a heap of other ghost gear back across the cliffs. The effort felt almost absurd, but also necessary, a reminder of the weight the ocean carries, and the responsibility we hold to lighten it.

Creating the template at Arctic Canvas

Before anything could be built, I needed a template. At Arctic Canvas, I rolled out long sheets of brown paper across the studio floor and using a reference image of a whale fluke, began to freehand draw one half of the shape. That single outline became the master copy, which I could then flip and trace to form a symmetrical fluke. When I’d created ‘Ghost Gannet’ for the ISLANDNESS exhibition at National Trust in UK, I’d used a projector to template and as someone who doesn’t draw, I felt the pressure to get this right, rise in me as I started to draw!

Working at this scale, around 4.5 metres across, was a challenge in itself. But doing it in Iceland, far from the familiarity of my usual tools and supplies, added another layer of complexity. Every detail had to be planned in advance to make sure the build was possible with the materials and resources available once I arrived.

In that quiet studio, perched on the cliffs overlooking the place humpbacks call home, the ghost fluke took its first form on paper. From there, it could grow into the life-sized sculpture that would form the centrepiece of my exhibition in the heart of Whales of Iceland.

Building Ghost Fluke inside the museum

And so it was showtime, to decamp for a night down to Reykjavik to install the Sjórinn Talar exhibition. The ghost gear and fenders were loaded into our hire car. The prints and information carefully packed and we set off on the beautiful journey to Reykjavík. At a local hardware store I sourced the timber, cut down into pieces small enough to fit inside the car, ready to form the frame of what would become Ghost Fluke.

Time was tight. In the short windows between cinema screenings at the museum, we cut the wooden sections of the fluke. Then carried everything, timber, ghost gear and tools, out onto the floor of Whales of Iceland.

There, in the vast space surrounded by life-sized whale models, the sculpture began to take shape. Twisted ropes became the fluke’s structure, nets layered into texture. Each choice was both practical and symbolic. A weaving together of discarded fragments into a form that could speak for the sea.

Building it live, in front of visitors, was an unforgettable experience. People paused to ask questions and I was able to share not just the story of Ghost Fluke, but the wider impact of ghost gear. I showed how ropes fray into microplastics. How these fragments leach chemicals into the ocean, and how what seems inert on the shore continues to affect life beneath the waves.

Why Ghost Fluke is life-sized, made from debris, in the heart of the exhibition

Ghost Fluke had to make a statement. To hold presence, to spark dialogue, to make people stop and listen to stories of the sea.

As the centrepiece of Sjórinn Talar – The Sea Speaks, the sculpture anchors the exhibition. Its life-sized scale mirrors the span of a real whale fluke. So when you stand before it you feel the weight of its presence. Crafted entirely from ghost gear and marine debris gathered along the Snæfellsnes coast, its very material carries the story. What once threatened whales now becomes their likeness.

It also anchors the story of Bird. The humpback whale I helped rescue in Steingrímsfjörður after it had become entangled in fishing gear. Standing before Ghost Fluke, it is impossible not to think of Bird’s struggle and survival and of the countless whales who are not as fortunate.

Visitors are drawn to it, curious and questioning. Ghost Fluke becomes a talking point. A conversation piece that opens the door to deeper reflections on our connection with the ocean. It is both memorial and reminder, beauty and warning. Inviting us to speak of the sea and to listen in return.

How the Icelandic landscape influenced the creative response

The Snæfellsnes landscape shaped everything. The volcanic cliffs, the moss-draped lava fields, the endless horizon of the North Atlantic. They remind you that creation and destruction are inseparable. It felt right that Ghost Fluke should be born here. Where fire meets ice, and where stories are always written by the elements.

Staying at Arctic Canvas gave me the time and space to reflect on how the Ghost Fluke sculpture should unfold. The silence, the views, the deep connection to place all became part of the process. It was a cocoon where the ideas crystallised and the final pieces of the exhibition came together.

The emotional and ecological symbolism

Ghost Fluke is a sculpture of contradictions. It is made of debris, yet it carries beauty and represents entanglement, yet also freedom. It is both wound and healing, absence and presence. This work demands edgewalking, the polarity of it all, a lot to hold.

For me, it became a way of confronting the grief of what is happening in our oceans. While also reminding us of the resilience of whales and the possibility of change. To stand and process the scale of it confronts us to feel both the weight of what we have lost and the hope of what we might still protect.

Ghost Fluke was born from the sea, shaped by the Icelandic landscape and given form inside the museum. It carries with it the voices of whales, the memory of the coast and the urgency of our responsibility.

For me, once the idea had sparked to create the sculpture, it took on it’s own identity. Weaving together place, material and meaning to create something that could stir hearts as much as minds.

Sjórinn Talar runs from 8th July – 30th September 2025 at Whales of Iceland Museum and you can find out more about it here and experience the image collection here.

If you’d like to learn more about my visual storytelling work though ideation, curation and creation of exhibitions, click here. For more on how I collaborate with nature-connected brands, conservation projects and creative residencies, get in touch.