Land of a Thousand Caravans


The area between Rhyl and Colwyn Bay in North Wales is awash with caravan parks, an endless field of cream and beige, like a seventies coffee set or kitchen dream. These homes are like the largest chest freezers; boxy, flimsy white goods with a strange desire to look “modern”. There’s a sense of flotsam and jetsam, as though these parks have been carried there by the sea and dumped on the shore as the tide has gone out. What feels like a million tv aerials and satellite dishes project at scratchy angles from the otherwise single storey barrio that floats beneath. Many of the homes are lived in for much of the year, playing with the concept of what we mean by “holiday parks”. This artificial shoreline stretches for many miles and clings to it’s fragile existence on the margins in so many ways.


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