First Mate, My Friend

A tangled line on a weathered deck, an old block that has seen better days and a worn mast from years of sailing, reborn through elements of nature.  Water, wind and wood.  My studio became an O.R. of sorts when I spread arms, legs, head and torso across the table top.  I can remember thinking, “I have to get this right.  This little guy has a tale to tell and my paint brush needs to let his voice be heard.”

As he has come together, he reminds me…of me.  Respecting the soul of wood, loving the water, the wind…not so much.  But, I love the spirit of sailing!!  I have held a line, lifted a main and dropped an anchor, very clumsily I must admit, and my mind isn’t sharp enough to safely take the helm.  But, I love it just the same.  

Meet “First Mate”.  He has sailing in his blood.  His head and body beat with the heartbeat of the mast he is carved from and his feet will stand firm on the block as he threads the line through the eye.  He is a bit clumsy, like me, in that his challenge is to thread the eye properly.  All in due time, but for now, we shake hands and become friends.