Acrylic, pastel & charcoal
on canvas, 18 x 24 inches.
In the time of Homer, Aristeas of Proconnesus, according to Herodotus,
left his body in the form of a raven and, in Bacchic rapture,
wrote a poem recounting his travels with Apollo. A fragment was
supposedly preserved by Longinus in "On the Sublime,"
written in the 1st Century AD:
"This too we remark in great
wonder: men dwell in the water, far from land in the midst of
the sea. Unlucky wights they are, for they suffer grievously,
with their eyes on the stars but their life amidst the waves.
Assuredly, lifting their hands to the gods, many are the prayers
which they must make, with entrails sorely tossed."
From the background of "Aristeas"
Once more I have to use this quote from Conan Doyle:
"Quite so, Watson. You see, but you
do not observe. The distinction is clear."
Like waves, we roll along unnoticed unless
we encounter some obstacle. If it's a beach, we may rise up in
glorious visibility for a moment before crashing to the sand
and being sucked back into the sea where we came from.
I was having thoughts like these while living
inside this wave, like those mermen Aristeas wrote about, drawing
its moments, frame by frame, discovering its secrets. I grew
up on the beach in Florida, watching, hearing and swimming in
these waves, seeing them but not observing them, as Sherlock
said, until now, 70 years later, landlocked in Arkansas.