Over the years, as I rummage through boxes, bags, back-packs and the likes, like old memories that suddenly, and for no apparent reason come striking back at us, pieces of work, pieces of the past are discovered and as if n a dream, are discovered. Today, as I went in search of something else, never thinking of sketches or other pieces of art-work, 4 old sketches done on the great shores of the Atlantic appeared, in an old, small sketch-book that I used to carry with me as I roamed and wandered. With them came the memories of those sojourns, the hours spent in peace, listening to the rolling waves, the breezes rushing through the tall sea-grasses, staring in awe at the open sky above, surrounding me, and pondering the fact that straight ahead of me was open sea, nothing but open sea until the shores of Antarctica rose on the horizon.
Peaceful times. Hours of contentment.
Not exactly, in some opinions, anything extravagant, I’m sure. But simply sketched, with little pencil stubs, very much like the “55” postage-stamp sized sketches now lost forever, they hold the memories, and open those memories to me again so that today, I can re-live and re-visit.
Sadly, the places sketched here no longer exist. Hurricane Sandy came to those shores and when she departed, she took with her the dunes, the grasses, the little fences and all that provided shelter… to the shores, the little villages and my soul. But neither Sandy, nor any-one, any thing else managed to steal away with the sketches… nor the memories they depict.
I’ve posted them, here, in the “Charcoal and Pencil” segment of this site and I hope that they will bring to you, the viewer, the browser, the visitor, the same comfort and solace that I experienced then, as I sat alone, sketching, and that I enjoy now, here, today, as I look at them again, like dear, cherished old friends not seen in all too many years.