8th day on the road, 23rd painting completed, 2nd one on this day. Last one of the trip. I’m exhausted.
There’s something about a rivermouth sandbar that really holds one’s attention. I wanted to get the whole scene here: the inland valley leading to the now hot and dry heartland this river flows from, the coastal coolness of rugged rock and sea stack shrouded in fog and cloud, the beach, the driftwood, and the sand piled up creating a focal point for bending lines of swell approaching from deep water. I wanted to show it all.
Perhaps I took on too much. It happens. But then again, it’s all in there and if I’m gonna roll by and paint one painting here, I’m stoked this was it.
The big disappointment was the extended time it took to finish this complicated composition ate into the rapidly closing window to go surf a few down at that sandbar. I maybe could have swung it still, but by the time I finished up a thick fog had rolled in, and it was getting dark, and bobbing around a sharky rivermouth lineup alone and barely visible for marginal but fun looking two foot waves for some reason just didn’t sound as fun as it did when I’d started the painting.
So instead I paused there to enjoy a celebratory beer for a week of hard work, and thought I heard the river speak. “Another time” she said, “Another time.”
From the overflow
Of the heart
The mouth speaks
A raging torrent
And takes it away
Many moons ago
We heard her speak
We heard her speak again
We hoped this would be
Our invitation to join the waters
Where her words meet the Great Unknown
The fog rolled in
The moon rose in the east
And once again
Was all that we heard