Fishing Art

It is still winter, so this is another “sort of related to redfish” post.  

One of the many benefits of social media and the Internet in general is the access we now have to once very local “stuff.” In this case, stuff refers to art. It wasn’t that long ago that if you found a nice piece of art in a small gallery, you had to buy it or never see it again (if you were passing through).

Today, we can Google “fish art” and up pop thousands of often wonderful and wild artwork from artists we would otherwise never come across. While there are obviously many, many great artists, I thought for this post I’d describe a few of my current favorites. Each of their work is unique, but all are deeply connected to fly fishing.

The first artist profile is Karen Talbot. Talbot is digging out from six feet of snow in Rockland, Maine. She is known for her lifelike, fine art paintings and scientific illustrations. While I associate her work with trout, simply because those species are what first led me to her art, she has also produced some amazing paintings of reef fishes, birds, botanicals, insects, warm water and blue water species. The fact that she can paint a largemouth bass with as much precision and beauty as a billfish tells me a great deal about her talent and passion for fish. Many of her originals are also life-sized, adding to the subjects’ gravitates. 

Much of Talbot’s art is what I call classic fish portraits. However, these aren’t “flat” images. For example, when I look at her Atlantic salmon painting (my favorite), I feel as though I know exactly what holding that fish feels like. It sits heavy in my hand; the base of the tail is dense, density needed to propel that fish up and over waterfalls. In other words, the painting is multi-dimensional, having depth and weight. Before seeing that painting in person, I was frankly not that interested in Atlantic salmon fishing. I’m not sure why, it just wasn’t a species in my top 5 so-to-speak. However, after seeing that piece, Salmo salar has been hard to shake from my mind.

Atlantic Salmon by Karen Talbot

Talbot also produces what she calls artist’s studies. These are her initial field notes, followed by sketches of morphometrics, species details, conservation notes, and color studies that help her prepare for the final piece. I find these working pieces intriguing because they provide insight into what goes on “behind the scenes” in the production of her art.

Artist's study by Karen Talbot 

The next artist I want to highlight is Paul Puckett. Puckett’s work ranges from etchings with pop culture fish themes to fine art. While I find his oil painting such as “King’s Armor” or “Eyes of the Red” intriguing because of their lifelike qualities and the memories they conjure up, his etchings also include some comical fish art featuring Johnny Cash and Walter Sobchak from the Big Lebowski. It takes a creative mind to forge a link between trout and Walter Sobchak. His art also graces fly boxes, and a clothing line, Flood Tide Company, based in Charleston. Diverse style, topics and medium are part of Puckett's strengths.

Walter by Paul Puckett

Similar to Karen Talbot’s Atlantic salmon, Puckett’s “On the Move” makes me feel as though I am in the scene with the fish. In the case of “On the Move” it provides an underwater view of the moments immediately following the release of a nice redfish in the marsh (at least that’s what I see). When I look at the painting, it makes me feel as though I have an underwater view of that moment after a fish leaves my hand. My nerves have settled after having landed the fish. My breathing has returned to normal. The final satisfying moment is when the fish pushes away from my hand. For me, there is no better angling event than the release moment. I never get tired of it or take it for granted. “On the Move” takes me there.

On the Move by Paul Puckett 

My last favorite is Bob White. White’s work is dominated by what I call sporting scenes. Many are fishing, but his work also includes upland and waterfowl hunting scenes, as well as map art and what he calls “bird study” prints. I am drawn to his work partly because of his larger landscape focus. In other words, while his art is focused on sporting activities, his work also presents the grandeur of nature. And this grandeur is what draws so many of us to mountain streams, tropical flats, or coastal marsh in the first place. Although I’m not really qualified to make this statement, his work seems to have a certain connection to the Hudson River School with its grand backdrops and skylines.

The Marsh Guide by Bob White 

White has also produced an amazing series called “One Last Look” made up of fish portraits right before their release (thus the title). I love this series because like the other works mentioned above, the paintings take me to my own experiences of catching and releasing a nice fish.  That last look, right before the fish is placed back in the water is forever burned in all anglers minds, especially if the fish is a “lifetime” fish. His brook trout painting takes me back to an exact moment in time in Labrador when I caught and released a ten-pound brookie. I think White would be happy to know how much joy his painting brings back on this cold February day.

One Last Look (Brook Trout) by Bob White

Winter Pontification

I haven’t posted anything for a while because it’s “winter” in Alabama. So fly rods have been broken down and stowed away for a couple of months while I spend my outdoors’ time looking for deer and wood ducks.

However, I do have a pontificating post to add as I daydream about redfish and tarpon. I am often asked why I love to fly fish so much. There is never a simple or even single answer to a question dealing with an obsession, but as I was recently looking over a few photographs from the fall, a specific photograph of a South Carolina marsh and another of a Belize permit flat made me aware, seemingly in an instant, of one of the driving factors in my obsession.

Fly fishing in areas such as coastal salt marshes and turtle grass flats are akin to being presented with a challenging riddle that requires total concentration and awareness in the present. When one arrives on the edge of marsh or flat, either on foot or on the bow of boat, the water often looks empty. There may be an occasional ripple on a calm surface, but again, there often aren’t any obvious signs of life.  There are of course those rare occasions (for me anyway) when you pull up on a flat that is exploding with life – birds crashing the surface, and fish and shrimp jumping. More often than not the water appears to be empty, at least at fist glance.

Redfish Marsh in South Carolina

Of course the flat or marsh isn’t empty, so the initial scan over the water can be deceiving. It often takes me time to adjust both my vision and concentration in order to focus on sometimes very subtle clues - a slowly moving shadow, a brief glimpse of a tail, and wakes made by single fish - that fish are indeed present. For me, few of these clues are immediately apparent; its almost as if I have to reprogram my senses away from the human world and onto the natural world. This is especially true on slow days when clues are few and far between, and a buzzing cell phone or impending deadline can easily make the mind wander away from the water off the bow.

And while my ultimate goal is to catch the fish I see, there is also a reward in simply seeing a fish, particularly before the guide points out the same fish. When I spot a fish first, I feel as though the guide and I are on the same page, working in tandem, rather than me being completely dependent on the guide’s better-trained eyes and senses. I imagine guides also appreciate fishing with a client who has their senses invested in the moment, who aren’t always waiting to be told where to cast.

When I’m on a flat or in a marsh, completely focused on the water’s subtle clues, I often think about a line that Peter Matthiessen wrote in The Snow Leopard, “When one pays attention to the present, there is great pleasure in the awareness of small things…” For me, there is amazing pleasure in spotting a tailing fish, a cruising stingray, or a motionless, brightly colored sea star among the dull sea grass. The world would be a better place if everyone had something in their life that allowed them to be truly present – no phones, no deadlines, no obligations – true focus on the water off the bow. 

Permit Flat - Belize