“The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.” —Rachel Carson, 1955
No visit to the rocky coast of Maine would be complete without exploring and sketching in the watery realm where land meets sea. Here, a fascinating world of plants and animals awaits discovery. Creatures of the Intertidal Zone are uniquely adapted to live both underwater and high and dry for hours each day as the tide rises and falls. Only the most hardy and adaptable survive – and they do it with remarkable tenacity.
Sketching conditions are a little challenging. I typically bring just sketchbook and a single pen (and, if I remember, a magnifying glass, shallow pan, and bandana to dry my hands after poking around in cold saltwater). A long scramble over slippery seaweed and barnacle laden rocks is required to reach the most diverse pools. I work fast, always mindful of the turn of the tide, and sketch species as I find them, building out the page as I go. Later, I add a wash of color. The end result not only captures species found, but records for me each moment of discovery while at the edge of the sea.
I’ve been weeding around the house and gardens this week, and discovering some unwanted beauties in the process. I pulled the shagbark hickory first – complete with half its outer shell – and started this page with that. Next came the sugar maple, which I found spouting beneath the peonies. I liked the curve of the stem reaching for light, but I liked it better in my journal than in the ground. The page seemed a little spare, so I went looking for something small and discovered the silver maple, just getting started among the peas. There’s more weeding to be done, so perhaps I’ll find more to add in the future—but for now, my work and my page is done.
How do you draw something when it is in constant motion? How do you get the shapes and colors and patterns right when you only get a fleeting look at your subject? That’s the challenge of sketching birds—which requires good field identification skills, some study of bird anatomy, and solid drawing and painting skills.
I like to study and sketch specimens and use photographs for reference materials before going into the field. By working out shapes, identifying details, and making notes about a bird’s habits, I’m more prepared to sketch quickly when in the field.
That’s what I’ve done here, in preparation for a weeklong program on Arts and Birding at the Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine at the end of June. I’m on the teaching team, which also includes experts in field ornithology, photography, videography, and writing.
During the week, we’ll explore coastal islands and habitats, and we’ll have a chance to see Atlantic Puffins, Black Guillemots, and other seabirds. I’ll be leading a journal making workshop on the first day, helping people make a simple accordion fold journal that they can use during the week. This is my mock up, which I’ll continue to work in before heading to Maine, but hope to finish when I’m there.
Turns out I wasn’t the only one drawn in by the burst of blossoms in a nearby locust grove. Once I got up close to sketch, I could hear the drone of hundreds of bees buzzing in the profusion of flowers draping the trees.
These were especially large bumble bees—and I’ll have to go back to make a more accurate identification. Though they were flying about as I sketched, they were too focused on the task at hand to bother with me. Bees are an important pollinator of locusts and beekeepers often plant them to boost honey production.