Aldeburgh beach is tough as old seaboots. The shingle crunches underfoot with every laborious step as you weave between old boats, fishing nets, lobster pots and rusty tractors. There's the smell of fish and the cry of the gulls all along this working coastline. Not everyone would see this as a place of beauty, or even interest.
I think they've got used to it by now, but you can trudge along the shifting shingle bank and make your own mind up. Me? I think I can find room in my world for both large sculptures and old fishing boats.