Saturday, January 29, 2011

A Shared Silence


As the snow falls today I look back to a distant day on the river.
My memories linger and tease me of the spring past and one to come.

One memory stands out this morning, one of sharing a moment of silence.

Silence seems to be a reoccurring theme for me.
Maybe that is why I am so drawn to activities that naturally lend themselves to it.
Painting and Fly fishing to name a couple.

"A Shared Silence" captures such a moment.
I was on a drift down the Bow River with my friend Pete, when we passed these two gentlemen.
They were quietly casting and completely in tune to what they were doing.
Listening to the line as they cast, the river moving us forward, the water pressing against our boats haul and nothing more.

A gentle nod of the head as we passed from each man was all that was needed.

Funny how this only took a minute to occur, but it stands out to me many months later.
I love that, the ability to lose oneself in a memory, one that speaks to my very essence.
In away a bridge to that moment.

As I sell these works of art I find myself missing them, but I know that the paintings bring the same connection to the new owner and I am glad that I can be that bridge for others.

So when you find yourself in a daydream, enjoy it and know you're not alone.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

River


As a young boy I found myself always looking forward to playing with my friends.
Always exploring our neighbourhood for pieces of the lost world.
As time went by I did lose that world.
I am amazed at how a young child can find the universe in their play time.
I am so happy to have had those moments.

A few years ago I found that world again, through playing with my boys.
They always seem to find adventure in all they do.
As we spend time by the river I watch them explore and play.
They transition from the everyday to wherever their imagination takes them.

I too feel the draw of the river.

This world opens up for me every time I spend time with my boys; wade into a river fly fishing or when I stand in front of a canvas painting.

I guess I never lost it, just forgot how to get there.
Thanks to my boys, they showed me the way back.