Every morning, the ocean erases an artist’s masterpiece—but this daily loss has become his greatest lesson in letting go. And this is the part most people miss: it’s not just about the art; it’s about the freedom found in impermanence. At dawn, Coolangatta’s shoreline is a blank slate, its beauty lying in its quiet simplicity. While it’s often bustling, today it’s just seagulls gliding above a handful of surfers braving the early waves. The waves themselves are nature’s eraser, wiping away yesterday’s footprints and offering a fresh canvas for the day ahead. Into this serene scene steps Mal Leckie, a 74-year-old artist armed with nothing but a rake and an imagination ready to transform the sand.
Mal’s routine is unchanging: toes buried in the sand, rake in hand, he begins to etch intricate designs that the tide will soon reclaim. ‘I call them my scratchings,’ he explains with a smile. ‘The sand is the ultimate canvas—free, fresh, and fleeting.’ For an hour each day, he turns the ordinary into the extraordinary, crafting swirls, twists, and arrows limited only by his creativity. When asked about the meaning behind his work, he jokes, ‘I’m just signaling the spaceship,’ a playful response that hints at the deeper philosophy behind his art.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Mal embraces the temporary nature of his creations, finding peace in their inevitable disappearance. ‘It’s awkward when the tide comes in too fast,’ he admits, ‘but learning to let go has been one of the most calming lessons in my life.’ This mindset, he believes, can be applied to other areas of life, making it easier to accept loss and change. Is he onto something profound, or is this just a romanticized take on impermanence? Let’s discuss in the comments.
Born in Western Australia, Mal moved to the Gold Coast 50 years ago to teach art at a prestigious boys’ school. Today, he’s traded the classroom for the beach, dedicating his time to professional art. Yet, his sand creations are purely for pleasure—a ritual born from adversity. A bout of COVID-19 damaged his inner ear, robbing him of his lifelong passion for surfing. Left with a void in his mornings, he turned to walking and running, until a chance encounter with a woman and her crystal singing bowls sparked his new obsession. ‘I carved patterns in the sand to enhance a photo,’ he recalls, ‘and it evolved from there.’
On the same beach, Mal often crosses paths with Carmel Glenane, a woman who’s spent 25 years spreading joy through her sound bowls. Their shared love for early mornings has turned them into friends and collaborators. ‘This work gives me a reason to come to the beach every day,’ Mal says. ‘I’m out of bed—that’s what matters.’ As they settle into their routines, the beach transforms into a tranquil community hub. Foot traffic grows, and onlookers pause to admire Mal’s art or listen to Carmel’s vibrations. ‘It’s beautiful to see people share in the joy,’ Carmel reflects. ‘It’s more than art—it’s connection.’
Mal’s story raises a thought-provoking question: Can embracing impermanence lead to a more fulfilling life? His sand art, washed away daily, is a metaphor for letting go of attachment—a practice that’s brought him peace. But is this a universal truth, or a perspective shaped by his unique journey? Share your thoughts below—let’s explore this together.
