Water is an obvious subject for artistic observation when you are on a boat. It is never still! It moves in and out with the pull and push of the tides. Six hours in, six hours out. In. Out. Up. Down. High. Low.
If the wind blows, the water responds with little ripples or white tipped waves.
Even though the water finds its horizontal place, filling in all of the nooks and crannies of the low landscape, it is constantly on the move. And I am watching it with fierce concentration.
I can see already that these sketches are calling to be painted. I struggle to stop looking now that I have seen the mystery and subtle beauty. How can you resist this?
