"Between Keats and Shelly," serigraph, produced 1998, 14 inches x 40 inches, 31 colours, edition size 188
In my second trip into Quetico I was traveling with John Lawson who had more experience atpaddling in rough weather conditions. I had one trip under my belt and I was still very unsettled by any kind of wave action. In the serigraph "West of Eden" there is an island in the distance left of center and this was our first campsite that year. We broke camp early in the morning under gray skies, rain and a steady wind from the south west. We dressed in rain gear, paddling, staying in the lee and to the east of Eden Island. It wasn't until we came around the island that we were exposed to the elements and we had to cross about a mile of open water to head down into the southerly branch of Quetico Lake. I was frightened by that aspect but John who was sterning said to just keep paddling and we'd be fine. We were straight into the wind and more then a few times a wave would break sending water over the bow. Not loads of water but enough that I’m sure I heard that unspoken “mom” in my head. John, well he just said, "keep paddling Herk, we'll be just fine."
It took what I thought was an hour or more but more likely was a half hour to get across. We were both tired though and stopped in the lee of the rock point we had to go around to paddle down the lake. We sat in this becalmed pool while the wind unabated swept in waves across the lake, driving the rain in unrelenting sheets across its agitated surface. This calm, stilled scene of water lillies was what we were resting in before we continued while perhaps sixty feet away the wind and waves continued unabated. This serigraph "Between Keats and Shelley" was a result of the tumult of that day and its juxtaposition of calm set against natures unsettled temperament. The poem, an excerpt of which I've attached here was also born from that experience.
As a metaphor "the arts" are at times that calm in the cultural storm that we live in. They are what enriches our souls after a hard day of earning the legal tender.
On this first of autumn days
riotous red maple, delirious birch in fevered yellow
tamarack dreaming, towering spruce in unchanging cloak
Cresting waters rush
In wind swept spray
clamouring, cranking gusts
from north to south in unrelenting force
bends my back, paddle stroke deep and strong
mark the progress of my shore bound toil
labour on, bend my back again
coming closer on
still we are yet too far,
bow in shaped and formed vessel
loaded deep to the gunnels
knifes into upward rush of watery wall
wave on wave, paddle stroke deep and strong
shore closer now
rhythmic motion paddling on sharp cutting prow
muscles, tensing, bunching,
stroke on stroke
this ache into my burning limbs
quiet lee in sight energizes thee
black pool, calmed, rest me safe from autumn storm
In thy shelter of rocky outcrop and wind swept tor
Give us respite from winds that bend and blow in buffeting chill
"Between Keats and Shelly," serigraph, produced 1998, 14 inches x 40 inches, 31 colours, edition size 188
In my second trip into Quetico I was traveling with John Lawson who had more experience atpaddling in rough weather conditions. I had one trip under my belt and I was still very unsettled by any kind of wave action. In the serigraph "West of Eden" there is an island in the distance left of center and this was our first campsite that year. We broke camp early in the morning under gray skies, rain and a steady wind from the south west. We dressed in rain gear, paddling, staying in the lee and to the east of Eden Island. It wasn't until we came around the island that we were exposed to the elements and we had to cross about a mile of open water to head down into the southerly branch of Quetico Lake. I was frightened by that aspect but John who was sterning said to just keep paddling and we'd be fine. We were straight into the wind and more then a few times a wave would break sending water over the bow. Not loads of water but enough that I’m sure I heard that unspoken “mom” in my head. John, well he just said, "keep paddling Herk, we'll be just fine."
It took what I thought was an hour or more but more likely was a half hour to get across. We were both tired though and stopped in the lee of the rock point we had to go around to paddle down the lake. We sat in this becalmed pool while the wind unabated swept in waves across the lake, driving the rain in unrelenting sheets across its agitated surface. This calm, stilled scene of water lillies was what we were resting in before we continued while perhaps sixty feet away the wind and waves continued unabated. This serigraph "Between Keats and Shelley" was a result of the tumult of that day and its juxtaposition of calm set against natures unsettled temperament. The poem, an excerpt of which I've attached here was also born from that experience.
As a metaphor "the arts" are at times that calm in the cultural storm that we live in. They are what enriches our souls after a hard day of earning the legal tender.
On this first of autumn days
riotous red maple, delirious birch in fevered yellow
tamarack dreaming, towering spruce in unchanging cloak
Cresting waters rush
In wind swept spray
clamouring, cranking gusts
from north to south in unrelenting force
bends my back, paddle stroke deep and strong
mark the progress of my shore bound toil
labour on, bend my back again
coming closer on
still we are yet too far,
bow in shaped and formed vessel
loaded deep to the gunnels
knifes into upward rush of watery wall
wave on wave, paddle stroke deep and strong
shore closer now
rhythmic motion paddling on sharp cutting prow
muscles, tensing, bunching,
stroke on stroke
this ache into my burning limbs
quiet lee in sight energizes thee
black pool, calmed, rest me safe from autumn storm
In thy shelter of rocky outcrop and wind swept tor
Give us respite from winds that bend and blow in buffeting chill
Between Keats and Shelly
Grant this refreshing repose
for yet my passage is further still