I am a southern girl, through and through. And while I can adapt and barter with a bushman in the heart of Sub-Saharan Africa or a Bizarre in the heart of Jerusalem, in my heart I am most at home in the land of magnolias, sweet tea, and bluegrass music in the bluest mountains on earth. So it's no great surprise that I tend to gravitate towards subject matter that illustrates the culture I love so much. The weather here has been chilly, and it seems like it's not quite ready to give winter up completely. Not just yet. So, I've been dreaming about sunny days on the coast, and I can almost taste the salt in the air. I love going to the NC outer banks more than almost anywhere on earth, and catching our own shrimp and crab is one of the highlights. If you've never had the pleasure, I strongly recommend that you promptly make your way to the nearest ocean inlet for the freshest dinner of your life.
The man in this oil pastel is a local shrimper. I like to think that he's been going out on the channel his entire life. Something his father and grandfather have always done, and surely something he'll pass on to his own children. I love the dark worn look of his skin from years of summers spent on the water, and the way he so perfectly throws the shrimp net out, like a perfect saucer. I'm even a little bit jealous of him actually. I'd give anything to be out on that water, getting ready for a dinner of shrimp and vegetables, and maybe some watermelon. Oooh, and a nice cold Corona with lime. But for now I've got to grab my umbrella and scarf and make my way through the muck. Maybe I'll stop by the frozen foods section on my way home for some shrimp though. Not quite the same, but it'll have to do. For now.
