MARC CASTELLI | It’s Never the Same
October 24 – November 30
COLLECTORS’ PREVIEW & RECEPTION
Saturday, October 24, 11-2 PM
Castelli Downrigging Events / 113 South Cross Street:
Friday, October 30 / 5-7:30 pm, Artist Reception
Saturday, October 31 / 10am – 5pm
Artist Talks: Saturday, October 31, 10am & 1pm
Sunday, November 1, 11-3pm
Marc Castelli’s annual exhibition is a Chesapeake tradition. It has become synonymous with the Sultana Education Foundation’s Downrigging Weekend /October 30-November 1. Celebrating 25 years of Sultana, Downrigging combines the largest annual tallships gathering in North America and a high energy Bluegrass festival.
Please email or call Carla Massoni if you wish to schedule a private
appointment: info@massoniart.com / 410-708-4512
This exhibition is a collection of watercolors produced from April of 2025 to April of 2026. The title reflects the incredible diversity 35 years while working alongside the watermen of the Chesapeake Bay as they go about harvesting seafood in and under many circumstances and conditions. The fact that the almost mind-numbing repetitive yet efficient daily work has little changed for well over a hundred years still leaves no room for complacency. Hence the title, “It’s Never the Same”. To paraphrase Bill John; It is the insistence that life on the water has meaning beyond convenience.
By the Dawn’s Early Light 2025 Print Image Only available through The Finishing Touch
Thus, Always to Tyrants 2 – SOLD
watercolor
30 x 22
I have spent many a Spring morning stacking and relaying eel pots on a workboat. The area we would work in is about an hour or so north from Rock Hall. Upon our return we would transfer the eels to a live box in the harbor or creek as the locals call it. We would be shadowed by a blue heron as we returned to the dock. This bird would perch on a piling next to the boat and watch as we cleaned up.
After we would tie up and leave the boat, this heron would jump right onto the edge of the live box to look for leftovers. Spying one, it would then jump down into the live box, snatch that eel, and fly up out of the box to land on the deck and eat its meal. This would happen like clockwork. What a remarkable opportunity to photograph such a beautiful bird up close. Life eats life. Every now and then a Night Heron would join the banquet. In the past, I have used my art to express my convictions about politics, stateside and international. I kept many of them to myself. The act of expressing without doing so publicly seemed to satisfy the need to get things off my chest. The Vietnam War was one such moment. Another was the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan. For those ten years of the Soviet occupation, I did drawings and paintings. Many of which were exhibited at the CIA headquarters in 1989. That opportunity came after the last of the Soviets retreated back across the “Peace Bridge” to the U.S.S.R. If only the Russians would leave the Ukraine. That is another example of their apparently inescapable Stalinist/Czarist mentality usually expressed in the deaths of thousands of people. Our involvement in the “forever wars” of the Middle East have been as equally frustrating. There is a serious cultural disconnect in our inability to correctly address our participation in the many issues in that part of the world. Recently, I have had a difficult time accepting the current political/cultural situation in our own country. The title of this painting is a direct translation from the Latin phrase that John Wilkes Booth yelled the night of the assassination. Make of it what you will.
Headed In
watercolor
22 X 30
I have painted this waterman several times over the past 20 or so years. Pause for a moment and think about what that means. This is a long relationship of trust, protection, and friendship. I have a lot of acquaintances of which a few are relatively close. This friendship is one of the few relationships that mean the world to me. Jeff Baker has let me “cull” oysters for him for many years.
His face is a map of waterways, creeks, coves, rivers and streams, hard lean years and seasons of plenty. In the past we have seen so much plenty that the buyers put limits on what we could bring to market. There are times when I can see in his face the satisfaction he takes in a good day’s work. Beards and hair tend to stay long during the oyster season. This day was especially windy and cold. He/we will work days that many won’t. And yet that day, we managed to get a few more bushels than he needed for his private market. It takes a lot to create one’s own market, keep and maintain it, all the while meeting the state’s standards for the numerous inspections. In this image we were headed back to the county dock at Neavitt to put out the oysters. We would load them onto his truck and then he’ll take them home. He keeps them in a walk-in refrigerator in accordance with the State of Maryland regulations for storing oysters. There they will need to be weighed, bagged (can’t sell to the public in wooden or plastic bushel baskets anymore), and made ready to deliver or picked up. His buyers know him for the good quality of his product. That’s something of which he is quite and deservedly so, proud. One of his sons has continued in his footsteps to follow the water. His wife is more than his soul mate; she is also his business partner and manages the calls when he is on the water or out on the road delivering. They do well for themselves. This is especially so when comparing their business to the misinformation and recently mismanaged oyster market of the 25-26 oyster season.
Another Winter’s Day
watercolor
30 X 22
The reflections in the sheltered waters of Turners Creek and landing can be quite beautiful. This winter morning we were preparing to go haul sein for mud shad, a bait fish. The bateau carrying the haul seine appeared to be floating in the reflected sky. There are no paintings in this exhibition of which I am not pleased with. For reasons unknown to me a painting will reach out and grab my heart within the first few applications of paint.
Perhaps it is my age, or my ongoing satisfaction with life. This is one of many such paintings. I purposely choose difficult photos of mine from which to derive paintings or drawings. Something made me take the picture. More often than nought the reason would later reveal itself as I worked from the photograph. The expanse of the reflected sky was first and foremost. What a great place to let watercolor be just that, paint and water. The background is further defined by the slashes of white ice and snow. The reflected trees push the boat and its reflection out of the composition. As a good waterman friend of mine once told me about his livelihood, “If you aren’t out here every day, you’re not going to make it.” That can be said of seeing and photographing while being out on the water at all times of the day and in many different conditions. A lot that inspires me can be found in those conditions.
Quicksilver Day
watercolor
30 X 22
When I am out on the water, I see many moments through the day’s arc of the sun. There are not many photographers let alone people who want to spend large sums of time in all conditions with those who derive a living from the water. The term watermen came from England where it once meant those who ferried passengers across rivers and small bodies of water using oars and sweeps to power their wherries.
Much of our terminology about the water and those who daily ply it comes from English, our mother tongue. H. L. Menken’s, The American Language, is a great and wonderfully written compendium of what we have done to the English language over the centuries. The day in this painting was a cold, windy and bitter day for oystering. Hand tong bars and dive bottom are legally kept apart. A diver needs hot-warm water to be fed into his wet suit enabling him to work while picking oysters from the bar. As a culler it is a bonus when the boat is also rigged for diving because it has a pump to run water over the cull board keeping it clean of the mud. The aluminum cull board in this case reflected the heads of the hand tongs as the water washed around the oysters left on the board. I find grace and beauty in such moments and have to be ever watchful for a repeated moment to seize and photograph it. My mother was a professional photographer and my father a geographer and a military trained photographer. After my divorce the first thing I bought was a camera. At the time I could barely afford that let alone the film with which to shoot. I would go out and “shoot” pictures without any film in the camera trying to learn how to frame. Many of those “images” would later surface in drawings. Today, some photographs will stay in the back of my mind haunting my subconscious until I draw them out and paint them.
Windows
watercolor
30 X 15
Years ago, while sitting with several watermen in the DNR office in Centreville I kept hearing the Kinnamon name in connection to building workboats. The talk was mostly complimentary. We were all there to renew our Tidal Fishery Licenses. It wasn’t until years later that I got to meet the Kinnamons from Tilghman Island.
They have built over 300 workboats in their careers. Johnny tells me he has bult around 200, while J.C. started in the 1990s and has built 100 or so. Together their career of building deadrise workboats spans over 50 years. I believe they may be the only ones left in that business using wood frames and plywood to make the hulls and cabins. Johnny calls them “plywood” boats. They then use fiber glass and paint to protect the wood. I was most fortunate to get an insider introduction to the Kinnamons through the generosity of another islander, Kathi Ferguson. In addition to being a gentle soul and a generous person Kathi was quite an artist, working in the classic reddish brown of conte crayons and making insightful portraits. She passed away 7 years ago. The Kinnamons have been most patient with me over those years. Such unlimited access to them while they are at work is a gift. This has enabled me to take enough photos of them building deadrise workboats from the early stages of stacked and cut lumber, to the finished boat going out the door. I have always been sensitive to repeated shapes, openings, and patterns. I like the discarded window shapes in the foreground repeated by the empty windows of the cabin. Painting the windows in a workboat has always seemed to be a moment when the boat comes to life. I am a very fortunate man to have the trust, friendship, and pleasure of their company. Having this relationship has opened many doors to the island. The communities of watermen can be quite insular and difficult to gain acceptance. I go out of my way to keep that trust and correctly tell the stories in my paintings.
Blossom in the Diamonds
watercolor
30 X 22
Racing on the indigenous sailing log canoes of the Chesapeake’s Eastern Shore has been a 36 year treat for me. At my age of 75 I have to be a bit more careful about how often I do such things as crewing on them. The standing invitation to come aboard any time makes it difficult to step away. It is difficult to quit. Even harder for me than quitting cigarettes. I married a most wonderful woman 45 years ago who has understood that racing on sailboats is part of my life.
In total I have been racing for over 48 years. For me it’s about so many things. Being a part of a larger organism, the crew, while enduring hardships in the company of those you trust is in the forefront of reasons. Most of all being out there in the wind and light on the water. It is the taking of photos while working alongside watermen as they harvest and also taking photos from a racing log canoe in and amongst the fleet that gives my work the legitimacy of an intimate experience. There is an odd Hemingwayesque need to be a participant in the life experiences that I write about and paint. For now, I crew for one or two of the nine weekends and for some of the others I’ll work on the chase boats as a stern man. I have been a part of the North fleet and crews for most of that 36 years. Dan North who is the skipper on the log canoe Jay Dee has been most generous in welcoming me and my cameras. I can be a trial, but he is patient and forgiving. I use a variety of cameras while crewing. In all of those years I have lost only three cameras. With the exception of one, I have been able to rescue the photos. This painting is of the log canoe Island Blossom, 1898. She is one of three log canoes in the North fleet. Pictured here out on the waters of the Chester River. When looking for the wind I watch for the many textures of light on and in the water. Here I saw the approaching wind with its highlights sparkling in the water. These elegant water craft are amazing to watch. One appreciates them even more so when realizing they are over powered, very tender, and prone to capsize when sailed with complacency. Several years ago I was most fortunate to have worked alongside Pete Lesher, chief curator at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum and Judge John C. North to produce the most up to date and wonderfully told history of the log canoes. The title is, Tradition, Speed and Grace-Chesapeake Bay Sailing Log Canoes by John. C. North II. Many years ago, it was the author Roger Vaughan who introduced me to Judge North who then opened the door to the community of those who own and race log canoes. That was 36 years ago. I miss them both, John and Roger, every day that I am on the waters of the Eastern Shore.
Summer Hours
watercolor
22 X 30
The summer temperatures in the Kinnamon boat shop on Knapps Narrows can get uncomfortably warm. Too hot for working during the late morning and afternoon. The work day can start with J.C. opening the doors and turning on the fans at 5:00 in the morning. The work day will end around 9:00 am or so. I have been there at 5:00 in the morning to go crabbing with J.C.’s father, Johnny.
It has been my practice to always show up early so that no one has to wait for me. This also gives me a chance to walk about and take pictures. These o’dark thirty hours have proven to be very rich in imagery. There is something about the early morning lights, dark shadows, emerging and disappearing shapes that I find quite fascinating. Then add in the docks, pilings, and watery reflections and you have something paint worthy. In the lower right-hand corner of the building, you can see the small light that illuminates the office in the shop.
Waiting on Ears and Loops
watercolor
22 X 30
Bushel baskets have always fascinated me. Especially as they age and are transformed into “headers” as they are called above the Bay Bridge. They are used to keep the crabs in the basket. Below the Bay Bridge they are called “fillers.” The multiple geometries of basket lids can be quite interesting. The circles, quadrilateral slats and open negative spaces make for a lot of repeated patterns.
Such a shape dominated composition can be nearly abstract unto itself. Then add in the textures of weathered and abused wood. Recently there was a flood of baskets made elsewhere than the U.S. The wood was thinner, and the baskets smaller too. Buyers won’t pay the going rate for a bushel of crabs if it doesn’t weigh 45 pounds. That includes the 5 pounds the basket is supposed to weigh. If the wood is thinner and the basket doesn’t weigh the requisite 5 pounds then the waterman has to make up the difference in crabs. That was last year. I have yet to see any of the “Chinese” baskets this year. To ensure that the basket is full, a crabber will place on top of it an upside-down basket from which the bottom has been removed. Making fillers or headers can be an art. Some watermen take pride in making them. Others just stomp the bottom out of the basket. When placed upside down on top of a basket with crabs in it will enable the waterman to keep adding in crabs. Crabs are basically flat in profile. They will eventually lower the profile of the pile after they settle down from being handled and thrown in on top of each other. This allows the waterman to keep adding more crabs until they mound up higher than the rim of the basket. That mound is called an “ice cream cone”. The basket tops provide the geometries for this painting. When a bushel is deemed full the tops are placed slat sides up with the ends of the cross slat fitted through the basket’s wire handles called “ears”. The smaller loops on the rim of the basket will be passed through wire loops on the lid and then bent over to seal off the basket. This can be a real adventure if the waterman isn’t paying attention to the ever-wary crabs who want out of the basket. If the bushel is full the lid is placed right side up with a number 1 written on it. If the basket isn’t full the lid will be placed upside down. I learned about “ears” from Johnny Kinnamon.
Thus, Always to Tyrants
watercolor
22 X 30
As mentioned in an earlier essay the title is derived from the translation of the Latin phrase yelled out to the Ford theatre crowd after J.W. Booth assassinated President Lincoln. Don’t get me wrong I admire Lincoln to no-end, I wouldn’t call him a tyrant. Booth was a looser. I have an aversion to tyrants of any age and especially those with whom we have to endure in our times.
When I started to draw out and paint this image, I did not have a political statement to make. The fine piece of furniture became a wonderful composition of planes, shapes, textural details and shadows. It is nearly abstract for the content and its composition. I shoot pictures quite often “from- the-hip” so to speak. I see the world existing in a state of constant flux. Inspiration is in the same state. I can often lose an image if I don’t react to its split-second offering. The afternoon light on this smashed piece of claw footed furniture waiting to be chosen for the stove caught my eye on so many levels. This world, especially our country, should never tolerate tyrants. Toss them on the burn pile of history.
The Tilghman Door – SOLD
watercolor
30 X 22
The Kinnamon boat shop on Tilghman Island has fascinated me for several years. I have seen it in many lights and seasons. One very early morning I saw out of the corner of my eye something that resonated with me. It wasn’t until later when I remembered a J. S. Sargent painting, Smoke of Ambergris, that the something surfaced. This door and its overhead light and shapes reminded me of his painting.
It is one thing for an artist to deeply admire another artist’s work. If one isn’t careful one can end up slavishly imitating and that can become a dark hole. Years ago, I realized that such an inspiration when left on its own, will produce something from my own vision that will resonate with the initial admiration. Hope that makes sense. The warm sienna tones of the door, the shadow of the doorframe emphasizing the door’s windows, the palette of blue bottom paint on the wall where the builders cleaned their paint rollers, the grasses, wood and firewood frame made for a good time of painting. My wife Phyllis has picked this one for her private collection. I couldn’t have made a better choice. But it is the image from which this year’s print in the Following the Water series will be made
Making a Dent
watercolor
30 X 22
Ictalurus furcatus! Blue Catfish! These invasive, voracious catfish are a major threat to the ecology of the bay and its tributaries. They were surreptitiously introduced to Virginia waters by sportsmen looking for a more active fishing experience. The power of the sports fishing associations in VA and in MD are so strong that the threat from the Blue Catfish was apparently underplayed or just ignored.
These fish cleaned out the James River of local fish so thoroughly that one would be hard pressed to catch Blue Gills, White and Yellow Perch, Spot, Hard Heads, other Catfish, immature Rockfish, and small crabs. Initially the upper bay was told that such fish would stay down bay and in warmer waters during the winter and that the water was too fresh for them. NOT SO. I remember starting to see just a handful at times several years ago when working alongside a father and son team fishing their catfish pots in the winter months on the Chester River. Eventually these fish would become so numerous that the men had to separate them from the Channel Catfish for which they had market. At that time there was no real market for the Blue Cats. It took a while for the market to develop and then it was a catch as catch can fishery. It took a while for a young seafood buyer from Whitman Wharf and his backers to create a facility on the Tilghman Island to clean and flash freeze the fillets. There was a stiff regimen of inspections, among the many requirements are a tiled room for cleaning the fish with running water and stainless-steel counters with sinks had to be installed. The federal and state inspections came so frequently that ulterior motives were suspected. Developing a market came quickly until those who aquaculture catfish, started to offer their fish for a lower price. The Whitman/Tilghman Wharf business found other markets, such as the prisons. food banks, schools, the military, and out of state markets. It is a fishery with a relatively stable price per pound for any waterman willing to catch them. Pay a waterman enough for his catch and you’ll have a steady stream of product. This painting is of a good friend of mine, Dave Kirwan. At the time he was supplementing his early pre-crab spring income by longlining for Blue Catfish. There are no worries about resource sustainability as it is highly invasive and voracious. They can grow to a good size as evidenced by the fish that Dave is throwing into a tub. There have been much larger ones. This is also a fishery a young man with a small boat and a good work ethic can make a serious go of following the water.
Old Testament
watercolor
22 X 30
This waterman, a good friend of mine can be quite intense while working. Sometimes we exchange only 4 or 5 words for the day. Those are usually ones with which he uses to “teach” me something. The figure in the drama of early morning LED lights and the wind pulling at his hair, reminded me somehow of Michelangelo’s statue of Moses that resides in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican.
But the waterman has no horns of divinity. I know that Jeff would just grin and shake his head at the comparison. So much of my past comes bubbling back up throughout my day. History, art, fiction, science, politics all become part and parcel of my art. There is something in all of that in this painting.
Bleached
watercolor
30 X 22
The blanching by the sun and water will bleach color from boats, leaves, baskets, and all manner of things. Even watercolors will fade if they are exposed to direct sunlight. This stack of baskets was on the dock of what the locals call The Clam House in Rock Hall. The sunlight was almost overhead. We were just returning from a long morning of eeling in the upper bay.
As we backed in to the slip I looked up from the shade of the boat to the dock, and saw this arrangement in the mid-day glare of the sun. The minimalist palette is slightly relieved by the faded orange of a bullet cork. Keeping it that way when painting this watercolor was a serious challenge. The more detail you indicate can cause changes to the light and textures. There is not a wide range of darks and lights in this piece. One can almost feel the heat the baskets have been soaking up all day.
The Reflecting Pool
watercolor
30 X 22
The dock at P.T. Hambleton’s on Grace Creek in Bozman has always been rich with image possibilities. I am sensitive to geometries, repeated shapes and openings. All of which are readily available in this watercolor. I like the implied Flemish escape to the distance represented by the reflected sky. It is similar to the same compositional device of the small mirror in the room, used by Van Eyck in The Arnolfini Portrait.
This device relieves the relative shallowness of the picture plane by suggesting more room elsewhere. Thus, giving the viewer an escape to a larger space. I am usually at P.T.’s in the winter for oyster season. He is a major buyer of oysters and crabs. The docks are often quite crowded with two or three boats rafted out. I liked the set of handtongs reflected in the open space of water.
January Doesn’t Get Much Prettier
watercolor
30 X 22
Some days on the water are so soaked in light that all I can do is try to capture a feeling for such clean, sharp light. This quality is more evident when the water is calm. Together the wind and light create the caustics that play along the hull of the boat. Most heartening is the fact that this small boat is owned and crewed by young watermen. I hope to see more and more young men working for themselves and their families. And those who won’t shy away from hard physically demanding work in all conditions out on the water. It is a winter day. The light is cold. And yet there is grace.
The 7-10 Split
watercolor
30 X 22
It’s early morning, the sun has just broken the horizon, and looking forward from the stern of the boat I realize the coffee mugs and baskets remind me of a 7-10 split in a bowling frame. Through all of the seasons I have relished this first moment of light when it streams across the water, like a spotlight illuminating all of the vertical surfaces. Johnny Kinnamon has always kept a clean boat for as long as I have known him.
Over the years, I’ve been invited to go and work alongside while he chases the wiley crab. The boat is called The Bourbon Street Lady. A memory of Johnny’s mustering out of the U.S. Navy in New Orleans. A photograph of the boat’s name now hangs on the wall of a Bourbon Street bar. He finally managed to build a deadrise workboat for himself without someone buying it out from under him. Cash can speak quite loudly. Not loud enough his time. She’s a pretty little thing that suits him just fine. I am lucky enough to have documented his building it. Most of all I get to go out with him and try to keep the lessons he shares with me.
What Would I Do if I Won the Lottery
watercolor
30 X 22
This is Lewis Carter. He is 80 something years old now and is one of the 12 remaining black watermen working Kent Island. Black watermen introduced me to him. I remember him telling me why he keeps going out on the water, especially when it’s in the winter time. He said that he just couldn’t stand being at home with little to do while knowing there were things happening out on the water.
I have to admit that while I’m home painting, drawing, editing photos or writing, I am wondering very much the same thing. It took a short while for him to get used to me and to trust me to cull correctly for him. Once that was established, we enjoyed talking across the cull board. He could pile it on quite quickly. This view of him through the heads of the tongs is one that I have taken of many oystermen. And I might get around to painting them too. I feel a need to celebrate the black watermen. Their numbers are reducing quickly as they age. They have been very generous and patient with me. When choosing a sculptor to create a monument honoring the black watermen, the Queen Anne’s County Commissioners have ignored the opinions of the very same men they would honor. They went ahead and appointed an artist (a white man) who had already produced a mediocre sculpture of watermen for Kent Island. This artist also runs a charter boat business out of Kent Island. Apparently, the sculptor had the commissioners approve a co-chair (a white woman) to manage fund raising and gather information to produce a monument celebrating black waterman. This marginalized the black community of watermen and their families who were never asked about who they wanted to produce the monument. Bad feelings are surfacing. Especially now that one of the board members, a head boat captain, has been unilaterally demoted to member status without any warning. There are questions concerning the whereabouts of funds that have been raised and spent. The last fund raiser was so ill attended that the event cost more than was raised. The black watermen that work out of Kent Island are not pleased. I raise this point because it is hard for them to be heard.
Shardscape
watercolor
30 X 22
ICE! I saw a lot of it over the past two oyster seasons. There are sheets of ice that are so thin, the watermen called it windowpane. Some of it can be so thick that breaking it up to make an opening big enough in which to work has to be a slow and careful job. You have to avoid the ice slitting a hole in the hull of the workboat. I watched another workboat whose owner may have turned too sharply while breaking up the ice.
He ended up with a 6-foot hole in the side of his boat. The waterman reached out to another boat asking the oysterman to come alongside and follow him to the marina on Tilghman Island. The marina had been alerted to be ready to haul the boat upon arrival. The owner drove her right into the slings and she was hauled out for repairs. The Kinnamons of Tilghman repaired the damages and the waterman was back at work within a week. Ice. The U.S. Navy Functional Glossary of Ice Terminology classifies over 400 distinct ice items. Some of it can be so soft it’s called “mulshy” down on Tangier. Bet the navy doesn’t have that word. Some of it can be inches thick so that not one boat can get off the dock. I’ve painted two icescapes for this show. Some paintings start out energizing and can maintain that excitement all throughout. This one was a lot of fun to do. I start out painting with my elbows, large brush strokes, a lot of water, blotting, and pushing puddles around with a hair dryer. Eventually I used smaller and smaller brushes to apply abstract strokes and shapes. Then layering thin glazes of paint to imply translucency and sharper edges. Shards of broken ice. An abstraction.
Hungry Ice Today
watercolor
30 X 22
I had so much fun painting Shardscape that I wanted to do another one using what I had learned. Pursuing the brushwork and shapes that I used in the first image had become tools in subsequent watercolors. The brushwork used by Arthur Melville (1855-1904) an innovative and modernist Scottish artist has been a great influence on me over the past decade or so.
I’m not a copyist by any means. I choose to let inspiration derived from my interest in other artists to live in my subconscious for a while. Later on, such inspiration will appear unbidden in my work. My brushwork is not as planned as his, but the randomness of it, the washes of colors mixing themselves on the paper, and fearlessness of it all I find most attractive. The ice ate two boats that day.
Cold Enough?
watercolor
22 X 30
There have been many days that defy common sense in the 35 years of my following the water with the watermen. Plainly put, there have been days that these men had to go to work. The regulations under which they work can create dangerous situations. Oddly enough it can be the buyers who tell the men that there will be market on such and such a day without any chance of substitutions.
Sometimes such days can mean horrible conditions. Those days are very hard on a waterman and his means of making a living. As strange as it may sound, I would not trade those days for anything. Few people understand what it takes to harvest the seafood that ends up on their plates. The day in this painting was a brilliant sunny day, with brutal winds against flood tide. Add them together and you have a recipe for very difficult conditions. Then add in a single digit wind chill compounded by the fact that the wind direction excluded any chance of a lee shore in which to work. Up in Maine they call it, “right bristly”. Down this way some would say, “shitty”. This painting is of Jeff Harrison. A fine waterman, an amazing oysterman from whom I have learned a lot about oysters, human nature and the seafood harvesting business. Obviously, I have a lot of respect for him. I culled for him a lot this past season. You can tell from this image that the weather that day was pretty crappy. You can barely see his face sheltered in the number of hoods on his jackets, sweatshirts, and oil skins. We can usually make a good day’s work from finding a spot with enough oysters to actually enjoy the work. After fighting for our two bushels worth of oysters Jeff and I looked at each other and said almost simultaneously, “This isn’t any fun”. And that was it. We cleaned up and beat feet back to Dogwood Harbor on Tilghman Island and called it a day.
Dueling in the Zephyrs
watercolor
22 X 30
The geometries of sail shapes and their negative spaces that make up a scene of racing log canoes have always inspired me. According to the registers my wife encouraged me to start 45 years ago, I have painted 508 watercolors of these unique and indigenous to the Eastern Shore water craft. These canoes are on a downwind leg evidenced by their flying stays’ls. Other than the team shirts these light air sails are usually the only color seen on log canoes.
The elegance of their clipper bows with their over canvassed sail area and low freeboard is belied by the intense physicality necessary to crew and sail them. I take certain pride in the fact that for the 36 years of executing my various duties aboard a log canoe, I have also been able to take photos. I would like for those who see my watercolors to feel they are seeing what a crew member sees while in the midst of the fleet as it races to the next mark. For that opportunity, I’d like to thank Dan North, my skipper on the Jay Dee. It takes a lot of patience to deal with a self-acknowledged, loud-mouthed, and intense crew man such as myself. Especially for 36 years!
Not a Breath of Wind Last Night
watercolor
22 X 30
Two oyster seasons ago I got the opportunity to go out with Jeff Harrison and his crew, both watermen from Tilghman Island. When I got to the dock at 6:00 am there was “window pane” ice in Dogwood Harbor where he keeps his boat. Cautiously we made our way, trying to keep Jeff in what looked like a “channel” made in the ice by boats that left ahead of us. The ice in the “channel” had been ground up by the other boats.
And yet there was enough large wind driven pieces and floes threatening to close the channel with thick and sharp-edged ice. We eventually made our way out to the bar marked by the other boats’ lights as they wove their way in and through the ice to break it up. You could tell whose boats were wood and whose were made from fiberglass. The fiberglass boats could take a bit more punishment and could maneuver more quickly through the ice as they broke it up. The owners of the wooden hulled workboats took their time trying not to damage their boats. Many years ago, the watermen would sheath their boats from the waterline down to the keel with copper sheets to protect the hull from ice. Not many do that today. As the sun continued to rise up through the clouds on the horizon you could see the colors and the blue of the overhead sky reflected in the open spaces of water. Toss in the brightly illuminated linear cracks in the ice and you can get a hint of what I got to see that day. During the nights before, there was not a lick of breeze on the open waters of Broad Creek. No breeze and sub-zero temperatures with a clear sky overnight make perfect conditions for ice. Jeff had sent me an amazing photo from the previous day’s, “Finger of God” sunrise in the ice. Wow. I really needed to not only go out and see for myself but to work alongside these men in the same conditions. It is a day I’ll never forget. I took over 1,000 photos, and I am still painting from them.
A Notion
watercolor
8 ¼ X 30
Some winter days can be so subtle with bright overhead sunlight illuminating the sea smoke rising from the water that is warmer than the air. While the wheelhouse, men, and some of the decks are sharp, it is the waterline of that distant boat that nearly disappears in the fog. Photographing while looking directly into the sunlight can force a camera to make compromises.
These can make the boat a dark flat silhouette. It is not enough to paint it like that. There are lights and darks inside the shape that keep it from being so two-dimensional that you could peel it off the paper. It takes a lot of time spent looking to know what there is inside those shapes. We were on our way back in after getting our limit of oysters and each of us remarked about the rising sea smoke as we made our way. This painting is just a notion from such a wonderfully subtle day.
I Know it’s Out There…
watercolor
13 ¾ X 30
For me there is a moment when the sun broaches the horizon that I relish. Nothing to stop or slow the headlong rush of light as it lights up everything standing out from the surface of the water. I use a camera to record that light as it reaches into the cabin and under the canopy on many workboats. That angle doesn’t last long and as a photographer you have to be quick to take advantage of it.
Remember that short window of light is also important not only for photographers but painters too. I am first and foremost an artist. Some folks forget that the three most important things in my life, are family, my art, and the watermen in that order. Anyway… This watercolor is a portrait of Don Parry trying to see the buoy marking one end of his trotline of eel pots. For the skipper, such moments like that rush of sunlight are just a momentary difficulty.
That’s On You
watercolor
15 X 22
One fine day of racing log canoes, I got a ringside seat of a log canoe capsize. This is the log canoe, Mystery. We were all on the starting line jockeying for position, trying to get that advantage of clean air. Starts are one of my favorite moments in the nearly 50 years of crewing on racing sail boats. Loads of yelling, visually overlapping gear with up close and personal intensity.
One must first understand that starting lines have a strict set of rules. One such rule being the need for boats to windward to keep clear. Such a loudly declared rule usually forces the offending windward boat to head up and stand clear of the leeward boat. There is a catch. If there is a boat above you on the starting line, it must in turn like a row of dominoes head up to stay clear of your boat. Imagine an accordion-like effect that squeezes the spaces along the starting line. In this instance, the canoe above us was the Island Bird who had nowhere to go because it would have meant colliding with the committee boat that was at anchor defining the starboard end of the starting line. They had no sea room in which to stay clear. We kept telling the skipper of Mystery that there was not room for him to come up as we had no room to comply with his command for the windward boat to stay clear. He had lots of room to fall off below and not press the issue. As he persisted in coming up, he fouled us with his own rigging and most worrisome of all it was his own boardmen out on their springboards who were getting caught in our rigging. I managed to shoot over 50 photographs in less than 20 seconds while watching the situation to ultimately resolve itself in a capsize. I have so many images from which to paint this moment and will probably render more. The title reflects the skipper’s instructions from the owner who was on board not to fall off down the line.
January Thinking on April
watercolor
22 X 15
This is Tyrone Meredith. He is one of the Black Captains from Kent Island and is continuing his family traditions of following the water. He captains his family’s head boat the Island Queen II. I have spent many hours with him on the head boat, and have oystered with him for several years. Now his wife Greta works with him while culling oysters. We have many very honest conversations about the world, politics, human nature, current situations facing watermen, and the oyster markets.
Most of all I appreciate our conversations about race and the water business. It was Tyrone who pointed out to Sen. Cardin that there are only 12 or so black watermen left on Kent Island. If there is to be a monument honoring them, it should be on Kent Island. I attended that meeting as an invited participant to the discussion. Many of us were featured in the Pulitzer Award winning documentary by Alexis Aggrey, Water’s Edge; The Black Watermen of the Chesapeake. I have spent many days on his head boat with him and his crew. Sometimes it’s Greta, other times it is his sister Vera, who also has a Coast Guard Captain’s license. Most of the time it is John Clopein, a white waterman from Kent Island, who is the mate. John is also one hell of a hand tonger! He knows so many of the same watermen I have known over the years. Best part of that is, he can share stories about these men that I had not heard. If I don’t keep pointing out the differences and you don’t know who I am, you might think that I spend time with only white watermen. Not so. Through Tyrone I have managed to meet other black watermen and get out with them on the water. They have opened many doors to me. As I stated in an earlier essay, the three most important things in my life are family, art, and the history and culture of the watermen. All watermen. I spend a lot of time during oyster season at the culling board. It is a great opportunity to talk, exchange stories, jokes, and share insights into each other’s private lives. Using my camera, I am able to catch off-guard moments that speak to the man, the moment, and the day. This is one such instance in January. It is the middle of oyster season and he is thinking on April when the head boat season starts up. As an artist, it was the limning of his face that caught my eye.
Oysters Next Week
watercolor
22 X 15
I had gone trotlining for crabs with Johnny Kinnamon on the last day of September. We had already put out our catch at The Rusty Hook, the buyer to whom Johnny sells to on Knapps Narrows, Tilghman Island. That morning as we pulled in to the dock, the buyer came out and said to Johnny while pointing at me, “Who’s the old dude”? Johnny is 88, I’m 75. As we moved up the narrows to Kinnamons, we passed several boats getting rigged for oystering.
These two elderly watermen have started to rig their boat for power dredging. They’ll install a mast and gaff with a winder/pulley and stays to steady the rig from which to drop the dredge and then hopefully recover it full of oysters. Not living in such a working community, it is not often that I get to see such pre-season work in process. It was the end to a beautiful late summer day. I was lucky to see it and have my camera at the ready. When my family and I moved to the Eastern Shore in 1995 there was something in the air about the approach of oyster season. Many watermen would have their boats hauled to be painted, have the sheathing on the bottoms inspected, and gear up for oystering. The anticipation was very similar to that of Christmas Eve. There is a saying among Eastern Shore folks, “When the farmer thrives, the waterman starves. When the waterman thrives, the farmer starves.” Not always a truth cut in stone. The times back in the 1990s were very hard on farmers due to a drought that lasted 6 or so years. Watermen were having to deal with a rockfish moratorium and crabs may have been plentiful, but the drought exacerbated the rise of two virulent oyster diseases. MSX and Dermo which nearly wiped out many thriving oyster bars. The oysters have made an amazing comeback with help from watermen using replenishment techniques, the MD/DNR, and most of all with Mother Nature enhancing the natural recruitment in the last two decades. The numbers of oyster surcharges have surged since the mid to late 90s. The excitement to oyster has returned only to be somewhat subdued by strange market prices. It’s never the same.
Round and Brown
watercolor
22 X 15
One cold and bitter oyster winter morning while waiting for the skipper on the docks at P. T. Hambleton’s, Bozman, I heard P.T. tell a young oysterman to spread the word, that he only wanted the oysters to be, “Round and Brown.” P.T. is an oyster buyer, a big-time buyer that sells all kinds of seafood to one of the biggest seafood buyers on the East Coast. Bevins of Virginia.
Quality of product is important to him. It is also important to the watermen to have an attractive product. There are a lot of watermen that work out of P.T.’s. If you bring all kinds of snappy and wrapped up oysters to the dock, you might get a warning if you’re lucky. If not, you’ll be told not to bring him anymore oysters that season. Long and thin oysters are called snaps or cat tongues. They have small meats and the shells are thin, making it hard to shuck. Those are called soup oysters. They have also been called shakers. When Campbells Soup company had a cannery in Chestertown they would process these soup oysters. If I understand the process, the oysters would be placed on a conveyor belt to be steamed, which opens the shells as they move along. The conveyor belt would vibrate, shaking the oysters out of the shells, which would then fall into a container below the belt to be further processed. There is no more Campbells cannery in Chestertown and many buyers do not want to see any snaps or cat tongues. A brown oyster is one that wasn’t buried in the staining mud to have a grayish and black shell. The buyers and dealers want to see them round and brown. I will think long and very hard if I ever want to paint such a picture again.
All Sooks
watercolor
15 X 22
For many years I have watched watermen cull crabs. They can tell the size by looking and rarely ever have to use a cull stick to measure. They can take a second or two longer and see if the crab is a “peeler” and is getting ready to shed. I am still amazed at how crabs have little or no regard for each other. Sometimes I wince when I hear the claws cracking the carapace of another crab as they are dumped to be culled.
There is a mad scramble for the corners or a space in which to back themselves and then watch what is happening in front of them. They all have a hold on each other and can come up out of the cull box in a gigantic tangle. Every now and then they’ll come up in a chain. The crabber takes a look to see if they are all one type of keepers and to see if they are all of a legal size. Then, if necessary, to be separated for further sorting. In this instance, the crabber looks and sees that each crab is a female. Female crabs can be called several things such as biddies, sows, sooks, and #3s. To keep such a crab, the apron must be a shape resembling the capitol dome. If the apron is a triangle, it is called a v-belly and not mature enough to legally harvest. In this instance all of the crabs in the chain are all sooks and keepers. They’ll end up in the same bushel basket. I waited for the moment when the crabber had such a chain silhouetted against the sky while hanging from his gloved hand. There’s a certain anonymity to the image that forsakes the identity of the crabber for the shapes and negative spaces. Culling male crabs has a whole set of other names, jimmies, jumbos, hotels, #2s, and measurements. Crabs that have recently shed are called whites, or paper shells. They have little or no meat in them and are quite pale in color with their bellies almost a ghostly white. You can squeeze them and feel the carapace flex because there is no serious amount of meat in them. Not much market in them. Better to throw them back and let them fill out. There is a lifetime of learning in just this one industry.
Not Usually This Ugly
watercolor
15 X 22
Racing log canoes are beautiful to watch, and if you are cognizant about racing tactics, courses and rules a race can also be quite something to observe. Starts can be very exciting with the fleet jockeying for position as the canoes approach the starting line. Starting on starboard is the usual tactic. The best spot, if the course is laid out properly, is closest to the committee boat at the starboard end of the line.
If you can get that spot while everyone angles for it, you can have the advantage of clean air first. Then no one is above you to dirty your wind with their sails. I have learned a lot while photographing five Louis Vuitton Challenger series for the America’s Cup. There is much to learn about prestart maneuvering in the start box which is an undefined area behind and usually leads up to the committee boat end of the line. It is pretty much the same for log canoes. Each skipper wants to hit the line with as much headway on as possible. As the fleet beating up to the starting line gets tighter in the box, it gets rather crowded. It can be quite dangerous with boats coming about as they claim certain rights, random yelling and cursing, collisions and every now and then someone capsizes. This watercolor portrays such a moment. The capsizing log canoe is going down in the midst of the other canoes as they approach the line. Pretty ugly.
Skillet Fish
watercolor
22 X 15
Most of my fishing has been using pound nets, catfish pots, longlining, fyke nets, and gill nets. All are aspects of commercial fishing to feed people. I remember attending an auction that included among other estates, my parent’s household goods. One of the estates being auctioned had an item that their attorney told me I might be interested in. We’re standing in the crowd and the next item to come up was this beautiful little notebook, chocked full of fishing flies and lures, along with notes and some drawings.
He said that should interest you. I told him that if the fish couldn’t be caught using a net, I wasn’t interested. You would have thought I had passed gas. The crowd moved away from me like I had the plague. I have been widening my perspectives lately, by going out on the headboats from Kent Island. That is all hook and line fishing. I’d never done that before and one day I managed to get a rather nice white perch on the line and keep it. I understand now how addictive such an experience can be. But you won’t see me making a habit of it. I take a lot of pictures of the head boat customers through the day. It is a long 8 hour day of searching for fish to catch and most of the time when it all goes right everyone catches fish to take home. There are spot, white perch, hard heads, small rockfish (which have to be thrown right back over) and every now and then a catfish. A catfish can raise quite a ruckus when an angler gets one on his or her hook. Every now and then I am able to get a shot like this one of a white perch on the hook. The customers judge each other’s fish by how it’s going to be eventually consumed. A middle-sized perch is a sandwich fish. Too small for anything else. A large fish is a skillet or a pan fish. Just right for frying in a skillet and served up with all the right “fixins.” The excitement is palpable and I am moving all around the boat to catch the anglers with their fish and big smiles. I thoroughly enjoy listening to all of the talk and hearing about recipes and the stories. I can’t recommend strongly enough how much of a good day it can be to spend on a head boat. I’ll make a folder for the skipper once I’m home and after going through the photos. I then will give these digitals to the skippers for their websites. I tell the customers that they can download them and print them if they wish to do so. Pro bono. My way of saying thanks.
On Wings of Ice – SOLD
watercolor
15 X 22
There was a morning during last year’s oyster season that will remain a source of constant inspiration for years to come. There have been some days on the water from which I will still paint, even though they are from years ago. It is never the same out there on the water. The morning in the image, “Not a Breath of Wind Last Night” is from such a day. I mentioned in that essay the broken-up ice in the passages made by boats ahead of us.
The ice as it’s described on Tangier Island is called “mulshy.” The early sunrise is reflected very differently. It’s softer. This painting is what it looked like as we were leaving Dogwood Harbor on Tilghman Island. Lots of pre-dawn drama in the colors and clouds, with the promise of more to come.
Eeling – SOLD
watercolor
22 X 15
There’s something to eel potting that I enjoy. Not putting that something into words helps keep the mystery alive for me. I don’t mind the very early hours, the long boat ride to the upper bay, or the long uninterrupted chain of work to do in near conversational silence. In fact, I enjoy those facets. Donny said to me one day that it was the travel time about the job that gets to him.
Sometimes it takes an hour and a half to get to the first string of pots and when we are finished fishing several trotlines of pots it will take us an hour and a half to get back home to Rock Hall. Cost of fuel is a major part of trying to be cost effective. And yet it is what he and his friend Jeff Baker have done for over the 14 years they have worked together. I’ve been told that I will always be welcome on the boat and that gives meaning to my work. I live in my subject. I will always be fascinated by the pool of light on the water that illuminates their activity of hauling eel pots to the surface. No matter how many times I get out with these two, I will take pictures of the moments when the pot reaches the surface, is shaken to clean off the mud, and hauled to the deck of the boat. Eeling is probably one of the muddiest jobs you can find in the commercial fishing business. The advent of LED lights has expanded the time slot in which I can shoot photos. No longer am I plagued with far too many blurry images from which to work. Most of the world is sound asleep when they/we are at work. It is noisy and long conversations are something for back on shore. As Jeff and Donny are working in close proximity, they can exchange observations and catch up on some gossip. I am in almost constant motion picking up four pots at a time, walking them back on the boat to stand and then stacked. I have timed my life on the boat to fit in the time it takes for Donny to haul a pot and then hand it to Jeff who then empties the pot of eels and bait into a crate submerged in the live box. Jeff then rebaits the pot with razor clams, reties the throat, and sets it on the deck next to his feet. That 25 or so seconds times four comes to 100 seconds. That gives me 1 minute and 40 seconds to stack the pots, take pictures, change batteries, clean up the lens, scoot small eels that fall out of the pots and take care of personal business. Then the process starts all over again. The average number of pots on a trotline is 45 to 50. We usually fish three to five trotlines on each trip. Then I feed the pots to Jeff as he reattaches the rebaited pot to the trotline and sets them back over. There is no room for complacency despite the repetitive nature of all of the tasks on a workboat while harvesting seafood or bait. Occasionally, my private reverie is broken by a yelled, corrective instruction. That they take the time to correct me and teach me the whys and wherefores of it all, makes me a richer person and I feel a more intuitive artist.
Stir Them Up
watercolor
15 X 22
This is Lewis Carter, a Kent Island waterman hand tonging for oysters on Broad Creek out of Bozman. At the time of the photograph from which I did this painting he was in his late 70s. After a slow start of getting to know each other, we got to a point where we could work together and trade stories. It was his being able to trust my culling that was first and foremost important to him.
A waterman’s reputation rests on the quality of his product. I found his sharing memories about growing up on Kent Island and his experiences dealing with the Army to be valuable and enriching. On the water you can always tell where he is by the very long shafts on his hand tongs. Even at a distance you can tell which boat is him on the oyster bar by finding the shafts that stick up in the air higher than most others. The availability of hydraulic winders to help bring the grab of oysters to the surface has extended the time that many watermen can continue to work. In this image he’s walking the tongs with the oysters in the heads back to the point on the washboards where he can then step on the pedal activating the winder to raise the load and board the tongs. He’ll then open the shafts and drop the oysters to the board. I’ve painted him many times. There is something about his strength and character that amazes me.
The Culler’s Brooch
watercolor
15 X 22
Much to the watermen’s amusement, there are things I see while on a workboat and will take pictures of. I gently remind them I see some things differently than they might. The response is occasionally a grin or a shake of the head after explaining what I see. The best part is that nothing is held against me. Every now and then some of the watermen will come into the gallery to see the show.
Occasionally, I’ll be asked why I didn’t clean their boat up a bit in the painting. We usually can share a laugh when I tell them that I know they would ask where such and such is if I leave it out. I’m trusted to tell it right. In this case, there were bits and pieces of crabs that had either fallen off or were torn off while the crabs were being culled. Crabs are “onrey.” Look it up in H. L. Menken’s volume on the American Language. Anyway, they scuttle and shuffle all over to avoid being caught by the culler. They don’t want to be handled but when you catch one, it won’t want to let go. If you ever want a crab to let go, let it hang and it will eventually drop off. Crabs don’t like to hang from things. Unless it’s an especially delicious bit of bait. When a crab does get caught, it will grab and hold onto the nearest crab. That crab will grab yet another one and sometimes make a “monkeys in the barrel” chain of them. Things like swimmers, fins, legs, and claws are detached in the process and litter the bottom of the cull box. One late morning we were cleaning up, and I reached down in the cull box to gather up the detritus from the day. I decided to give them a longer look and placed the handful on the washboard in the sun. The colors of red, blue, and other pale hues along with the translucent whites with the sharp and slightly blue shadows got my interest. So, I took several shots. I didn’t bother with the arrangement. Kept it as it had been deposited. Something jewelry-like came to mind. A brooch. That is an item of jewelry that few women ever wear anymore. Sad to say. I loved buying them for my wife. A lot of design and creativity went into them.
Ready
watercolor
22 X 15
Before moving with my family to Chestertown, we would try to visit the docks during our trips to the Eastern Shore. I took pictures of many of the same things I now draw and paint. But back then I did not understand the purpose or the arrangements of tools and gear. I saw them as shapes, patterns, lights and darks. They are everyday items in the life of a waterman.
I would describe these as unconscious still life arrangements on any boat. It makes no difference whether it is a work boat, head boat or a log canoe. You can take an overview of my work and date the moment when I no longer was just an observer from the dock but started participating while photographing from on board. In this instance, the crab measure ended up in a bushel basket with a crab. I enjoy the patina of use, time, and weather on a wooden bushel basket, header or filler. It was the shadow shapes inside the basket that first caught my eye, emphasized by the linear elements of the negative spaces between the basket slats. This basket and crab measure are ready for more crabs. If the desk bound “scientists” at the Department of Health get their way, wooden bushel baskets may become a thing of the past. The issue is suspect at best. The “experts” claim that germs from wooden baskets can become health hazards to consumers. Damn near every waterman I ask about this issue asks me one question that has yet to be answered by an “expert.” Who in their right mind would eat a raw crab? All the crab that is consumed and steamed at high heat, fried, or cooked in some manner. If a restaurant serves the crab to the table in a wooden bushel basket, then it is on the restaurant to deal with the possibility of germ transference to the crabs.
Aurora’s First Blush
watercolor
15 X 22
I was oystering on Tyrone’s work boat the Rosemary Ann out of Kent Island with him, Greta and John Clopein. It was January the 7th at 7:45 am. The water was so calm you felt that you could walk across to the shore. We were just off Parsons Island on Cedar Point oyster bar. The light was incredibly rich with effects. A workboat appeared out of the sea smoke as it made its way back to Kent Island. This painting is all about the emerging island, the workboat, and the soft light on and in the water. Aurora is the Greek Goddess of Dawn.
If you like please read, Robert Carter of Nomini Hall by Louis Morton and The Journal and Letters of Philip Vickers Fithian. Both fascinating looks into that era. Now, fan the pages to the present. For several years, Johnny Kinnamon of Tilghman Island and I have been friends. He is a long-time boat builder from Tilghman and has built over 200 deadrise workboats. Many for customers in the Norther Neck region of Virginia. Johnny and his son J.C. have always felt responsible for their boats and customers. That is a major reason for customer loyalty and many return customers. Johnny had been invited down to visit with them and enjoy their hospitality. I was invited along to make the trip to visit these folks. Northern Neck is a lot of wide-open farm fields bordered by rivers and the Chesapeake Bay. We eventually had to be rescued from being lost and had to be guided to Nomini Hall by Johnny’s friend Lee Arnest. The driveway lined with nearly 300-year-old tulip poplar trees of all shapes eventually gave way to open fields and a small cluster of buildings. Both the original manor house and the second one burned and were not rebuilt. There is a very nice smaller residence. One of the current buildings is a pole barn of good size containing a great room with a corner office, and a comfortable bunk room in the back. The great room is lined with display cases and shelves and shelves of oyster cans, tools, and hundreds if not thousands of decoys. There is a more than adequate kitchen used to prepare meals of fried oysters, clams, rockfish, and homemade crab cakes. Quite a few of the Kinnamon customers were there to greet us and stayed for an amazing dinner prepared by Lee and his wife Karyn. Nomini Hall became a base from which Johnny and I would go oystering the next day with yet another of his customers. Lee is rightly proud of his family history, his collections, and his seafood business. He has collected many artifacts, photographs, papers, and books about the family. In the past couple of years, he and others interested in the area’s history have been using ground penetrating radar to locate the slave’s cemetery. It is on a piece of ground bordered by farm fields and a ravine that is slowly swallowing up the site. As each grave is discovered it is marked with a plain and simple wooden cross. in spite of the early January brilliant sunlight, it was a very somber site. Hence the title. Recently a loose association of historians, and descendants have been able to find a few relatives of those buried there. Strangely enough I got to meet a descendant of one of those enslaved families quite by accident. It was being while out on a Buck Lynch’s (see essay # 16) headboat last summer. I had heard a fisherman mention Nomini Hall. Curious, I introduced myself and we shared our stories. I decided then and there that I would do a painting of the crosses in the cemetery’s trees and leaves. After talking to my wife Phyllis and with Carla Massoni we decided to make a limited-edition print of the watercolor and donate them to Lee Arnest to use in the project. He has already gifted a couple of prints to known descendants. I have saved out one to give to the gentleman I met that day out on the water. Both Lee and his wife and the descendants get quite emotional about this. I printed a small edition for them of a pen and ink illustration with crosses leaning against a tree that has been growing in the cemetery for decades.
The Bells of Bagan
watercolor
15 X 22
You will need a set of weights in order to work on the Bay and tributary waters. You will use them to hold down the ends of trotlines for crabbing, crab pots, eel pots, and long lines. In the oyster season they are used to keep the boat from drifting off the oysters in the wind, tides, and currents. They are not anchors. These weights are usually made from very heavy engine parts such as cam shafts and transmission gears.
Every waterman community will have a local blacksmith or welder who will make one for you. The value chain of jobs in a small community has a long reach. There is a welder, metal smith on Tilghman who makes up all manner of things for the watermen. I remember seeing his backyard full of engine parts, gears, camshafts, and other bits and pieces of metal. Fascinated, I took several pictures, inspired by the colors of rusting metal, the shapes, and their shadows. The weights in this painting are from his shop. I was on Jeff Harrison’s boat oystering out of Dogwood Harbor, Tilghman Island. I saw this set of drags off to one side and remarked to Jeff about them being left on the boat. He told me with a grin that he just decided to leave them on the boat after all of the years that he took them off the boat after crabbing season. And now he wonders why he eever took them off in the past. They had caught my eye in the midmorning light. I took a picture, later did a pen and ink and thought that the image should be a watercolor. I gave the photo to Jeff who thought it was interesting enough to consider hanging on a wall in his house. He thought it would make a good painting, too. Bagan used to be spelled Pagan. As a young bboy, I lived in Rangoon, Burma. It was an interesting and challenging place to live. Not the abysmal horror it is now. I digress. The Buddhist stupas at Pagan are world famous. The shapes of these drag weights reminded me of them.
Smoke on the Water
watercolor
15 X 22
Midafternoon light and temperatures on oyster season waters can create sea smoke. It is especially beautiful to see when you have a reference point such as a boat afloat in the fog. Painting such a sight is an exercise in restraint. Painting any more of the boat that has all but disappeared at the waterline would have ruined the effect. Defining any more of the water would also have had the same detractive result.
That day we were on our way back to put out the catch of oysters at Dogwood after a day of handtonging. The three of us remarked at the sea smoke and the boat with its oysterman still at work. I bolted from the cabin with my camera and managed to catch something paint worthy. Before painting it, I did a pen and ink. Another exercise in restraint.