Fishing Expedition and Baseball

From Nashville, TN, I drove to Newport News Virginia. Ceramic Professor Emeritus Marlene Jack from the College of William & Mary (in Williamsburg Virginia) recommended Glen McClure’s photography exhibition Endangered Species: Watermen of the Chesapeake at the Mariner’s Museum. It is showing at the Museum through mid October. http://www.marinersmuseum.org/exhibitions/waterman-exhibition This quiet, compelling exhibition containing about sixty-five photographs and a short documentary film, illustrates the hardworking nature of fishing, the strength and perseverance of fishermen (which also includes women), and the cultural and environmental impact of human population on the bay. High nutrient pollution, excess sewage, and fertilizer runoff all contribute to increased deadzones which make it harder for oysters and other species in the bay to thrive. The museum also has an international small boat collection in a separate building. Here, one can view a Sampan (China), a raft made from papyrus and gourds (Egypt), and a Umiak (Alaska).

I would have liked to spend more time exploring the local history and various fishing communities in the area. However, this was not really a research expedition. Remember freedom? It was a sort of “fishing expedition,” the kind where I think I need to step away of my usual routine/daily environment and go to a favorite “fishing hole;” I might just come to see the world with fresh eyes, or see myself with more clarity. Like the character Lt. Daniel Kaffee in the movie A Few Good Men who felt he could think better with his baseball bat nearby, going to places where water and land share an intimate space together, mingling like big salty air, that is my baseball bat. It gives me the spaciousness to make my art if I can wash the dirty socks in my head after sliding into home base...or being called out.

Though I was not on a schedule with the exception of arriving in Pleasant Bay Nova Scotia by the 12^th of July, restlessness prevailed, and I continued driving. I drove through underwater tunnels and on loooong above water bridges across the bay. As I drove towards Chincoteague, home to a herd of wild ponies tended by the volunteer fire department, I passed a satellite station for NASA (near Wallops). It just seemed out of place, like something from the twilight zone, not quite real. Instead of camping, I settled in at a modest hotel in Chincoteague and walked the few blocks to Bill’s restaurant for some local whitefish. It was enough for two meals. I ate half then packed the remainder for a cold breakfast in the morning.