Indian River Inlet
"Morning's First Catch"
A surf fisherman feels a tug on his line on the north jetty at Indian River Inlet, Delaware Seashore State Park
"Morning's First Catch"
by Ellen Rice
It was a brisk, quiet morning. The only sounds were the cries of gulls, the gentle lapping of waves upon rocks and sand, the occasional motor of a fishing trawler headed out to sea. The sky was brilliant, dazzling. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning, my Admiral grandfather had always told me.
A lone fisherman had claimed his spot of the north jetty that juts into the Atlantic at Indian River Inlet, Delaware. I had to paint the moment. Click went the shutter on my camera. It would be months before I got it out and truly contemplated the work involved, the many thin, translucent layers of oils it would take to achieve the glow of the sky with paint and brush on canvas.
My son made me go out again on another early morning when the painting was near completion. He said I had to sketch the exact rocks that form the jetty. They weren't visible in the photo. Photographs can only capture so much, and they also stop action.
That's another reason I wanted to go out again, to add to my memory bank the ripples and flow of the strong currents at the inlet. If you paint straight from a photograph, you won't get a painting that moves. I generally use a photograph to get the details of places right, the alignment of a building, the placement of landmarks, but then put away the photo and mentally put myself back in the scene I'm painting and paint the moment I see in my mind when I close my eyes. I want the observer to feel like they can step into my paintings.
"Morning's First Catch" was a challenge. I had to get the rips right, or it wouldn't be Indian River Inlet. Just as it wouldn't be the inlet if I didn't get the rocks right.
So to all of you fishermen who my son was concerned about (including himself), I hope I got them right, that you can spot "your" rock -- and, through my painting, plentifully enjoy returning at your leisure to mornings spent at Indian River Inlet and that moment when you get the first bite of the day.
Ellen
A lone fisherman had claimed his spot of the north jetty that juts into the Atlantic at Indian River Inlet, Delaware. I had to paint the moment. Click went the shutter on my camera. It would be months before I got it out and truly contemplated the work involved, the many thin, translucent layers of oils it would take to achieve the glow of the sky with paint and brush on canvas.
My son made me go out again on another early morning when the painting was near completion. He said I had to sketch the exact rocks that form the jetty. They weren't visible in the photo. Photographs can only capture so much, and they also stop action.
That's another reason I wanted to go out again, to add to my memory bank the ripples and flow of the strong currents at the inlet. If you paint straight from a photograph, you won't get a painting that moves. I generally use a photograph to get the details of places right, the alignment of a building, the placement of landmarks, but then put away the photo and mentally put myself back in the scene I'm painting and paint the moment I see in my mind when I close my eyes. I want the observer to feel like they can step into my paintings.
"Morning's First Catch" was a challenge. I had to get the rips right, or it wouldn't be Indian River Inlet. Just as it wouldn't be the inlet if I didn't get the rocks right.
So to all of you fishermen who my son was concerned about (including himself), I hope I got them right, that you can spot "your" rock -- and, through my painting, plentifully enjoy returning at your leisure to mornings spent at Indian River Inlet and that moment when you get the first bite of the day.
Ellen
