‘Selkie of Castricum,’ ceramic sculpture by Sanna Pöyhönen
Selkies are creatures from the folklore of Scotland and the Northern Isles, said to shift between seal and human form by removing or putting on their seal skin.
The first selkie story I encountered told of a woman trapped in a marriage with a human man who had stolen her seal skin, preventing her from returning to the sea. She grew increasingly ill with longing until, one day, her son found her hidden skin and returned it to her, allowing her to finally go home.
That story has stayed with me. I often feel a similar pull – a quiet, persistent longing for something I cannot quite name, something within me that calls me back.
Some time ago, while walking along Castricum beach in the Netherlands with a friend, we came across a baby seal. It looked so alone and vulnerable that my first instinct was to go to it, to comfort it. But my friend reminded me that young seals are often left alone while their mothers are away searching for food, and that the best thing we could do was keep our distance and let nature take its course.
I carried that feeling with me. Later, I shaped it into a sculpture that I call Selkie of Castricum.
This piece is dedicated to everyone who feels that quiet longing for something or somewhere that is hidden, yet all-important at the same time.