We are in a vacuum. Dungeness is the pinnacle of the stasis that we find ourselves in. Time periods slip discretely into one another, and the future harbours only reiteration and re-permutation. It feels like a place that needs to be captured. A place that stands separate from anything else that we know. Forgotten and yet forever. An eternal wasteland of the relics of the past, yet the overpowering notion that it was always like this; it will always be like this. The end has already come. The driftwood is mainly comprised of parts of defunct boats. Washed up shipping containers. Objects that contained 'stuff'. Objects that once transported 'stuff' from shore to shore/until too becoming merely stuff; eternal waste. Unscathed by the harsh winds and the peltering rain. Washed up upon the shore, a glitched version of itself. The same but yet missing. Non-objects. Degrading matter blending into the environment as if placed strategically. So much so that you think it must belong to someone. But still it remains just 'stuff', particles and pixels and everything in between. Piles of crap and nothing and ‘stuff’. We harness strong bonds with material objects, in full knowledge that they will, in due course, become obsolete. We add to the eternal piles of stuff, day by day.In the same way, we invest lives into technology. Thousands of digital photographs encapsulating entire lives. Uploaded to The Cloud. It makes us feel safe. Hundreds of diary entry’s in the form of tweets. History. But just like the Floppy Discs, the tapes and the VCRs of the not so distant past; things will become distorted. Images will become versions of themselves. Things will be lost. The distorted and washed up driftwood represents a wasteland of forgotten histories. Just like the shitpics and the bitmaps, retweeted and regrammed to achieve a greater virality, losing themselves in transit. The driftwood has lost itself in transit. And now it remains. The relics of our time; washed up; obsolete.