The Fishing Boy in the Lost City of Ubar is a painting in progress. It is inspired by a conversation with Brian, a friend I met at Hovenweep National Monument in 1997. He telephoned early on a Sunday morning inviting me to go fishing at McPhee Reservoir.
"But, I don't know how to fish."
"No problem. I'll teach you," he promises, reassuring me.
We packed his truck en route with tackle box and a plaid blanket, extra pairs of dry socks, bottles of purified water, a wedge of brie, package of crackers and two tins of sardines. All of it crammed tightly inside his back pack by the time we arrived at the trail head leading down through spare pinyon and juniper woods growing in the soft, pink loess soil embankment; down to the water's edge where voluptuous, warm sandstone rocks lay beside others half submerged, leaning backward and forward, over other rocks wet like swelling sponges, shining from the sunlight folding over them, and warming like earth fruit ripening in a shore line basket weaved with sweet, clear morning fragrance, red, budding willow shrubs and the sinking depth of early morning shadows clinging quietly to the mesa behind our backs. He waded into thigh-high water carrying his tackle box, rod and reel, and there climbed up on a colossal red boulder to sit for a very long time...casting...casting...casting...into the gold heart of the silent water, patiently watching the surface for a nibble bubble, for the presence of a fish.
We packed his truck en route with tackle box and a plaid blanket, extra pairs of dry socks, bottles of purified water, a wedge of brie, package of crackers and two tins of sardines. All of it crammed tightly inside his back pack by the time we arrived at the trail head leading down through spare pinyon and juniper woods growing in the soft, pink loess soil embankment; down to the water's edge where voluptuous, warm sandstone rocks lay beside others half submerged, leaning backward and forward, over other rocks wet like swelling sponges, shining from the sunlight folding over them, and warming like earth fruit ripening in a shore line basket weaved with sweet, clear morning fragrance, red, budding willow shrubs and the sinking depth of early morning shadows clinging quietly to the mesa behind our backs. He waded into thigh-high water carrying his tackle box, rod and reel, and there climbed up on a colossal red boulder to sit for a very long time...casting...casting...casting...into the gold heart of the silent water, patiently watching the surface for a nibble bubble, for the presence of a fish.
What does a young man think about while he waits for a fish, I wonder.
He returns to sit with me and his black dog, Hoblio. "Do you know about the Lost City of Ubar?" he asks.
"Like fishing...I do not, Brian."
"Like fishing...I do not, Brian."
And so he shares the story of Ubar, how his professor in college found remnants of it in the satellite picture from space; how it is an enormous archaeological ruin site and how scientists believe it was a place of abundance, immense wealth and a trading center in central asia.
The morning passed with his story.
I began the painting in my mind as I listened...rendering abundance...plentitude of my thoughts transfering to my life on the canvas; bountiful food, affection, friendship, activity, happiness, care taking, Qi spirit, appreciation, parenting and love.
It is a pleasure to share my process with you. Thank you for visiting.
