That Old Friend

 

 

It’s been almost 8 months since I picked up The Gulf: The Making of an American Sea by Jack E. Davis.

I use the “I have three under three” excuse as to why it’s taken me eight months to read six chapters. But, I think that’s kind of a lame excuse. While it is true that I do have three under three, and this new reality has taken so much more from me than I could express, it’s also true that I just let some parts of myself settle for a season. Namely, my sincere gratitude and devotion to my Old Friend – the Gulf.

These past few weeks, I picked it back up again, and a quote/observation from the book just surreally captured the magic of this coast in a way I am currently experiencing it/have experienced it before, but have never been able to find the words to express it:

In speaking about the distinct “personality” of the Gulf, the author uses Winslow Homer’s portraits to make a point. Winslow Homer painted the Atlantic and the Gulf. In his Atlantic paintings, Homer almost communicates this turbulent, cold, impersonal entity present within. In contrast, however, when Homer paints the Gulf, the author notes:

“It draws you in, though not in some watery vortex, a looming danger as in his Atlantic portraits. The Gulf calls you to partake in its essential self, to dangle bare feet off the edge of a weather-grayed dock.”

Further, he makes the point that in the 1930s, when Edward O. Wilson (a renowned entomologist) was just seven years old, he spent a summer on the Gulf and later in his life wrote that his time there brought endless discoveries which helped him embark “on an undeviating course in his intellectual and spiritual development.” He later wrote that

“Experiences like his, “must have been repeated countless times over thousands of generations.””

Yes. Yes. Yes.

That’s just it. This coast has provided me more than I could put into words. It’s just like that old friend you haven’t talked to in years. But you know whenever you guys get back together, there’s that unspoken familiarity between the two of you. It’s not awkward. It’s just comfortable. It’s just an invitation to do life together again.

In the past year specifically, when I first started to do vintage-style “scientific” illustrations, I was forced to study in a way that I hadn’t really had to before. I learned the specific grooves and dips of the shells I was drawing. I became intimately familiar with the wings and feathers of a brown pelican.

I didn’t realize how much I had developed intellectually until I was walking down the beach with my daughter, and I was able to pick up some shells, name them, and understand their story. It unexpectedly connected me to this place I loved. The inspiration that this coast has given me has grown me in more ways than I can express.

As Mr. Wilson said, I know I am not the first to experience this. I am so thankful to be a part of the many who have and will.

So, as I continue to read the chapters of this wonderful book in the coming weeks, heres some visual Friday inspiration and a cheers to the long awaited weekend!