I was dragged out of bed and onto my uncle’s fishing boat. It was very early. Before the sun rises kind of early. My dad had agreed to help my uncle set lobster traps and despite several deep yawns, I was excited to be a part of it all.
As many of you know, I grew up in a little town in Cape Breton. I go back any chance I get.
As a child, I used to sit in the back of my dad’s fishing boat, hiding amongst the mossy green coils of line, watching him navigate the waves like I do potholes now. He’d occasionally point out a pod of dolphins, golden sunlight streaked down their grey backs. I’d excitedly run to the side of the boat, my face a full grin, and I’d stare back at my dad to make sure he was seeing it too. This and a hundred other memories just like it always flood back to me when I set foot on any fishing boat. Home, sweet home.
This would not be a cozy day of watching marine life though. This was work!
Once a year, my uncle sets lobster traps and, today, we’d be setting 200! It took him, my cousins, my dad and me several trips to get them all overboard and into the water and, at around 70 lbs each, you feel every one by the end of the day.
It was exhausting, but it was also such an incredible way to reconnect to my childhood, the sea, and my family.
I started April's piece as we made our way back home. I try to keep my work as loose as possible, at least at the outset. Also, my arms were jelly, so loose is all I could do, really. I decided on my horizon line and built up the rolling waves that eventually mirror the sky. A thick mass of clouds had rolled in to create a much moodier scene than it had been earlier that day.
By the time I stopped painting, it was already late and I couldn’t help but notice how the low sunlight streaked down the backs of grey clouds and I looked across the boat to my dad who, as usual, was smiling back at me.
