Good Morning from Studio Eidolons

A fishing prodigy, like a musical prodigy, is perforce a solitary.

David James Duncan, The River Why

Quality Journal time in the Morning

North Texas skies are dark and rainy this morning, which seems always to make the coffee taste better. The environment seems more conducive to quality reading as well. I am an unapologetic bibliophile; I could spend an entire day doing nothing but reading. Since yesterday, I have been chained to The River Why. I have thoroughly enjoyed the film, watching it countless times. And the book is almost always better than the film, I know that. But I was totally unprepared for what would happen when I opened this volume yesterday; my feet have been swept out from under me as from a tidal wave.

The sentence opening this blog opens Chapter 3b in the book. Everything preceding it managed to set the hook in me already, but the statement above found me re-opening scores of computer files of the memoir I’ve been composing for over two years. As if that were not enough, I went to the file cabinet and retrieved a stack of manila folders to go through pages stored decades ago. The “solitary” note has once again grabbed my attention.

. . . I grew up osprey-silent and trout-shy and developed early on an ability to slide through the Public School System as riverwater slides by the logjams, rockslides and dams that bar its seaward journey. It wasn’t that I was antisocial; I simply suffered from that lopsidedness of character, typical in prodigies. As young Mozart cared for nothing but keyboards, strings and woodwinds, so I cared for nothing but lakes, rivers, streams and their denizens.

I have often wished I was sufficiently financed to spend years on the psychiatrist’s couch in order to uncover the layers of mystery from my personal past. To be frank, I was not a prodigy. But there was only one thing I could do well from my childhood, and that was draw. Once I entered the public school, I found nearly all classes boring, and chose to draw in the margins of my assignment papers, tuning out teachers and class discussions. By the time college arrived, I felt I did not deserve to enter, and indeed art was the only reason I could qualify with a scholarship. Academic interests did not arrive until I had a year of college under my belt, and since those days I have fought to feed both the art and knowledge obsessions.

Amazing Morning Reading

This encounter with The River Why has reawakened my craving to return to the streams of the Guadalupe River, so at the time of this writing, I am making plans. Meanwhile, betweeen watercoloring for this commission coming due and packing my fly-fishing gear, I am enjoying quiet time over the fishing books in my studio.

I am also dashing out some quick watercolor sketches of fly-fishing subjects. All of it is turning out to be very enjoyable.

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

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