plein air in Homer, Alaska

At the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon on the Homer Spit in Alaska I have had a few days to stare and think about the landscape and a sunny morning to paint it.

I feel a shift in my ideas about plein air painting. I used to feel pressured to paint a frame-worthy piece every time I went out, but now I feel like I'm taking notes. I am catching the rhythm of the land, the high notes of color, the bass part of line and texture. It doesn't need to all come together now. It might at some later time, if/when I rework it or start fresh with the idea of this place in mind.

I watched many people, of all ages, catching salmon here. I watched a man fish (fishing and catching are two different experiences, they say), unsuccessfully, for four hours before he packed up his gear and hiked out of the lagoon. When his back was turned, a fish leaped in the water nearby. In fact, almost exactly where his line had been just minutes before.

I watched a grandfather and 6 year old grandson stand together on the rocky shore. First, the grandfather taught the little boy how to bait his hook, hold his pole, cast his line, and watch the bob for a bite. Next, I watched the boy go through all of the steps on his own, with grandfather nearby for assurance and answers to questions, which the little guy asked over his shoulder. Finally, I saw the two of them standing side by side with lines in the water making forever kinds of memories. When the grandfather caught a fish, the grandson reeled in his own line and stepped aside to be out of the way. Grandfather skillfully pulled in the fish, and grandson helped pull it out of the water, only dropping it once when it wriggled and wrested itself out of little hands.

Best of all, I felt perfectly safe while I painted, even if I felt like I was in the middle of a Rie Munoz painting!

Enjoy "The Fishin' Hole Song" and whistle a little, if you know the tune.

sketchbook -- mud flats in Cook Inlet, Alaska

The tour books warn to stay off the mud flats. My friend and Alaska native, Roxanne Colyer Clingman, warned me to stay off the mud flats. The newspapers and signs around town warn to stay off the mud flats.

The tide shift here is 30-40 feet, and when the tide is out, the bottom of the inlet is exposed. Glacial silt makes for a quicksand-like surface. Once stuck, a person faces 30 feet of water rushing in on the next tide. I was well-warned to stay off the flats.

When we explored Hope, Alaska, and I was faced with the mystery and beauty of the mud flats, I understood all of the warnings. I had to force myself to only draw and photograph them, because their attraction was strong! Here's what I wrote on the left side of this sketch:

7.1.15 Turnagain Arm from Hope Spur. 

Warnings in tour books (all) and from Roxanne: do not walk on the mud flats! 

Their quicksand siren song is lovely. Come and explore my complex curves and rivulets. 

Look into my puddles to see your future. Linger over grooves and cups, 

hillocks and terraces simple and marvel at the symmetry. 

The unspoken lyric remains that 

the song ends in doom.

Here is a short film of Alaska's landscape and a song that ends beautifully.