Between Currents: On the Seahorse, Liminal Space, and Seeing the Sacred
Pen and ink contemporary fine art by Doug Ashby
Many years ago, I traveled to Bermuda. While there, I had the opportunity to snorkel just off the coast. There is a raw power within the ocean, both gentle and immense. At one moment, you feel as though you’re floating in serenity, and then, without warning, the currents shift and you’re pushed in an unanticipated direction. While snorkeling, I felt caught in a liminal space, suspended between worlds, enchanted and slightly intimidated by the forces surrounding me.
It was there, just on the edge of a bed of seagrass, that an encounter unfolded which eventually led to the artwork you see here. Within the diffused light glistening through the water, light affected by those same unpredictable currents, a tiny seahorse revealed itself. And then, as if by magic, it vanished. When I opened myself more fully to the environment I began to notice more of them, appearing and disappearing, almost at will. It felt as though they were moving between worlds while navigating the thresholds of this delicate ecosystem. I was the intruder, granted only a partial experience. Logically I know they were simply employing their natural camouflage. But a deeper question lingered: What does it mean to experience something, to see something, that nearly disappears into its surroundings?
The artwork above is an older piece, created in the years following that encounter. Unlike my more current work, it is a pure illustration. Reflecting on it now, through the lens of nearly twenty years of growth and artistic evolution, I believe that moment in Bermuda embedded itself deeply in my subconscious. I’ve grown increasingly captivated by how, in this hectic world, extraordinary, yet ordinary, moments reveal themselves just on the edge of our perception. This piece, which once felt complete, now feels like a harbinger of what was to come.
Today, I see the seahorse as a symbol of liminality, a being suspended between the visible and the unseen, the conscious and the unconscious. Their upright form and almost mythical appearance set them apart from other marine life. They seem less like animals and more like guides from another realm.
Curious to understand more about this moment and the creature that sparked it, I began to study the seahorse more deeply. Despite their fantastical look seahorses are, in fact, fish. They swim vertically, an inefficient but strangely graceful motion that sets them apart. They thrive in shallow waters: seagrass meadows, coral reefs, and mangrove forests. Using their elongated snouts like suction tubes, they feed on small crustaceans. Seahorses are highly sensitive to environmental shifts making them a barometer of ecosystem health. Males, uniquely, carry fertilized eggs in a pouch until they give birth to fully formed juvenile seahorses. Depending on the species, their lifespan ranges from one to five years.
Their primary predators are crabs, larger fish and unfortunately humans. Millions are harvested each year for use in traditional medicine. In many cultures dried seahorses are powdered and consumed as remedies, despite the lack of scientific evidence. This exploitation, akin to the shark fin trade, threatens their already vulnerable populations. To harm such delicate creatures for pseudoscientific practices is a stark example of human misalignment with the natural world. Their fragility reflects that of their environments. Protecting them means protecting seagrass beds, coral reefs, and other biodiverse habitats. I hope that my children’s children, and beyond, will have the chance to witness seahorses in the wild. The mythic power they hold in our collective imagination is far more enduring than anything that can be bottled, crushed, or consumed.
That mythic power is rich and global. In my research I was especially drawn to Celtic mythology, and the idea of “thin spaces.” These are places where the veil between worlds is nearly transparent. In this worldview, the seahorse is a guardian and guide of these thresholds. It helps travelers cross from the known into the unknown, from the physical into the spiritual. This resonates deeply with my own creative practice. I’ve often described my work as capturing the presence of these in-between spaces. Stories like “The Mists of Avalon” come to mind, where the loss of magic coincides with the loss of belief in the sacred unseen. In Bermuda I felt I was in such a place and the seahorse, a modest and mystical creature, was moving between realms.
There are many moments in our lives where we stand between two realities. On one side lies comfort, predictability; on the other, uncertainty and potential transformation. Mythologies help us make sense of these crossroads. They offer frameworks that deepen our understanding of both ancient narratives and modern moments of awakening. They remind us to pay attention to what’s shifting beneath the surface, both within us and around us.
This moment has stayed with me for over two decades. It wasn’t dramatic, but precisely because it was nearly missed, it continues to resonate. Something shifted that day, something awakened in me. I wouldn’t fully understand it for years, but it took root in my art and my understanding of the sacredness in everyday life. The liminality of that moment, embodied in the seahorse, continues to instruct me. These moments abound, but we are often too distracted to notice. When I first created this illustration, I didn’t fully know what it meant. Now I do. Life is full of uncertainty, but that’s part of its beauty. Each day is a gift. And while I still struggle with presence, it is through these moments that I find my spiritual path. You don’t need the coast of Bermuda to find the sacred. It may exist in your backyard, in a passing glance, or in a pause. We only need to be still. Truly amazing things abound, just there, and just enough.
As always, I hope you enjoy the art and the writing. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. The original seahorse was a gift to a dear friend many years ago. If you’re interested in commissioning a new piece, perhaps one that reflects the time that has passed and the growth that’s taken place, please reach out.
Thank you,
Doug
