Only a short morning of work as I prepared to drive to Portland. Surf at Yachats. 6x13" on panel.

1st image: Surf at Rocky Creek I, 11x16" on panel. 2nd image: Surf at the Headland, 13x16" on panel. 3rd image: Sunlight on a Rock Channel, 6x13" on panel.

Wednesday morning was a complete washout so I drove up the coast until it cleared mid-afternoon. 1st image: Headlands at Whale Cove, 7x9" on panel. 2nd image: Headlands at Rocky Creek (actually sitting in the same spot as the first image but turned to the south), 7x9" on panel. 3rd image. Overhang and wind-sculpted vegetation. 6x4" on paper.

The second day is foggy with brief moments of clearing. 1st image: 7x5" on paper, looking through the gorge of columnar basalt out to sea. 2nd image: Morandi at the Beach. 5x12" on panel. This one was painted while Erik did his own work alongside as we talked to one of the students about different ways of painting. 3rd image: 13x13" on panel, standing in the surf at sunset.

Starting out with works on paper at Neptune State Viewpoint. Top row: 7x9.5". Bottom row: 5x7"

posting this 2nd image from  yesterday as it appears to not show up properly in FB.  Lightning is a factor in making these.

oil on panel: left 8x10", right 6x12"

oil on panel: 9x7"

6x12" oil on panel

Over decades of dreaming, sometimes dark, sometimes clearly, dreams of fish have persisted. I often wonder about their power. It was luck that I grew up on a lake and to have my morning routine start off with a visit to the water to see what was visiting the shore. This meant a quiet tip-toe and intense watching long before I reached the dock. (One step on the dock, even for a 6 year old, was a trigger for the fish to dash away.)
     The water conditions were very clear with indirect sunlight passing through the trees on the south shore. There, one could be sure of seeing something every day: a half-dozen young bass, invisible but for their black-striped tails waggling slowly into deeper water; a school of swirling bullhead minnows, black-barbed little beauties just a foot or two from the shore; an elongated pike, hunting for bluegills, and off to the north with one thrust. A piece of bog may have blown up during the night to provide shelter for the pan-fish. A snapping turtle might be off the end of the dock.
     Sometimes the dreams are of fishing: the haul might include a talking fish, or one as big as the lake, or a school of fish of various colors.
     I'll be writing more about each of the images in Oasis in the coming days.