Hey! Oh, it’s you. Whadda ya doin? Can’t a guy get a bite around here without someone buttin’ in? How’d you like it if I walked up to your dinner table a took a picture of you while you were eating? Sheesh! The nerve of some people.
Hey was that you on the trail I jumped in front of a couple of weeks ago? Startled you didn’t I? Serves you right. I was trackin’ a rabbit dinner ’til you came along and scared it off.
Interesting how we try to tame everything. The ocean, with its wildness pushes against everything we hold as “our own” with total disregard. She doesn’t care about our feelings or our inadequacies. She will eat you up and spit you out. Sometimes, she won’t spit you out. When we were kids, we would rent “surfrider” inflatables and let her throw us at the beach. We’d walk out the door by nine and by 10:30 we’d be slammin’ the sand. For a couple of bucks, you’d get a bus ride, a soda, a piece of pizza and several hours of end-over-end near-death misses. It was a good thing for mom to get all that energy out of the house for most of the day. That’s the ocean I like. The one with dolphins that hit the surf, or tiger sharks that’ll “take your leg off”. The one that reminds us what it means to be alive….to live with mortal uncertainty. We tested her, and after a few times in the “washing machine” we decided it’s time to head home….stronger, browner, every orifice full of sand. Yet for some reason, this is what I think of to paint? A safe quiet harbor? Who is the one who has been tamed?
20×16 Oils on canvas board
I have only ventured onto the open ocean a few times in my lifetime. Even a couple of days of five foot swells will give you a respect for the sailor that braves a liquid life.