FLOATING ASH

In the nonprofit world, they say that development staff (of which I am one) stick around in their role at an organization for 18 months, on average. I’m going on 40 months next month at mine, but in the midst of the good ole’ full-time gig there (of which I’m grateful for), I’ve managed to abandon this “post” for 18 months instead. I’m not sure the stat for the average cadence of blog posts, but in the year 2023, I’m not sure many of us are really reading them anymore anyway, so if you get past this first paragraph, kudos to you! You are likely an anomaly.

But thanks for being here.

Now that I’ve brushed off a few cobwebs as I find my voice here again, I have a few things to share about my upcoming summer series.

First, let me introduce you to Steve.

Steve is the name of the next fish I’ll catch. He’s the name of the last one too. At some point in time during my very brief escapades fishing, Steve gives these fish a personality. I’m still debating how to pitch an animated film idea about fresh water fish, complete with fly fishermen casting in pooling streams as they mumble curses at the out-of-state tourists rafting down the Yampa. Meanwhile, abundant life flows underneath the water’s surface where Steve and his pals kiss the butt cheeks of tubers for kicks and giggles, and in between the laughs learn how to navigate a sometimes turbulent world where unexpected surprises lurk just above. What is safe? What is true? And as they search and survive, what bits of joy can be found in the in-between.

Okay, back to reality. PIXAR has enough going on, but just imagine it. For whatever reason, maybe because I’m such a novice fly fisherwoman myself, I just find the whole story in my mind hilarious. This narrative and the dialogue from the fish that flurry away from my bait have kept my patience in check as I wade in the river’s current beneath a big, blue Colorado sky. Almost every time I get entrenched in the humor of it, my line tugs and in an act of slow motion film, I pull my rod back with nothing to show for it. Meanwhile, Steve breaks into a celebratory dance move underwater, leaving me to watch the bubbles and ripples that take shape in his wake.

Ok, Steve, if I can’t beat you at this game, let’s be friends.

This summer, I’ll be working on some wood burned + mixed media pieces as a reflection of my experience along the river banks. I truly never thought I’d find myself there with a rod in hand, ever, and clearly my daydreaming into lala land has proven to humble me in a craft that I am admittedly still very terrible at… but learning to do things those you care about love makes you do things you never thought you’d do, and so here I am.

The series will be focused on the intricate beauty of fish themselves—patterns of shapes and colors I never took the time to notice before, but am now in awe of as I draw and paint them. God creates beautiful things, no duh, and definitely put his handiwork on display in all the Steves and Stellas in the water too.

This series will also showcase the mountainous landscapes that rise high above the riverbeds—the rocky slopes, wildflower fields and grassy meadows that enfold around the meadering streams.

Somewhere within this series, I hope to experience something a bit like this:

In the words of Norman Maclean from A River Runs Through It, “One of life’s quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly becoming the author of something beautiful, even if it is only a floating ash.”

As I create this series (yet to be named) and contribute something small to this grand, vast and beautiful world, I hope to experience this peaceful sense of becoming in the canyons of my creativity.