The intrinsic values of fly fishing and fine art are
intertwined to depths unimaginable to the untrained eye. The rhythm of motion in
a perfectly thrown cast and the fluid stroke of a brush. The arcing line of a
weight-forward fly line and the loading of a well-structured rod blank imitates
the weight of paint on the brush as the artist transfers the subtle nuances of
color to the canvas. The ethereal colors of the brook trout’s blue halos surrounding
the burnt orange spots are reminiscent of a summer sunset on a palette of
bluish-purple sky. It is no coincidence that the range of colors offer us proof
of a Higher Power’s joy in creating scenes that draw awe and wonder from those
of us lucky enough to still be walking on this earth.
My wife, Katie, who is a remarkable artist, spends her
days capturing these salutary moments of bliss. It’s no wonder that she has a
love of fly fishing. For those of us who are fortunate enough to be blessed
with the ability to notice and revel in the beauty of a present moment, fly
fishing and art are the essence of natural connection.
Sometimes I sit in the old worn leather chair in her
studio and quietly watch her paintings evolve from thought, to spirit, to brush,
to canvas. She is able to capture the essence of a feeling in the same way that
holding a brook trout in my hand, as its colors sparkle in the sunshine,
engages my deepest most spiritual connection to our world.
As we stand in the gurgling stream near our house at
sunset, casting colorful flies into the dark blue waters below the frothy white
falls, I watch her work her Sage fly rod with the same precision and rhythm
that she bestows upon her brush in the studio. The fly line forms a beautiful
“U” shaped arc behind her and builds its speed as it whips toward the pool. The
fly, an elk hair caddis with a rust colored thorax, reaches the apogee of the
arc, then slows down to land gently just below the tail of the froth. The fly spins
on the rippling water as if it were alive and begins to drift downstream toward
the slower water at the bottom of the pool.
Katie is watching the imitation with the same focus
and intensity that exemplifies her work in the studio. The timing is
immaculate.
As the voracious fish breaks the surface of the
stream, Katie is leaning into the cast to engage the trout the moment that it
opens its mouth to swallow the deceiver. The instant that the mouth closes on
the fly, Katie lifts her rod swiftly, but not so much that it pulls the fly out
of its mouth. The rod bends at the tip and throbs with passion as the dynamic
tension of the artist and her subject commune in a moment of metaphysical
connection. Two spirits interlocking in a world separated by only water and
air.
The fish leaps into the air above, flashing its
iridescent orange fins rimmed with white borders. For the moment, these two
beings are enmeshed in the dance of life. The eternal struggle of mortality and
all its wonder is represented by beauty and nature in this, the pinnacle of the
present.
She coaxes the brook trout to her side, tenderly
slipping the net under its flanks and raises it above the water. Extracting the
fly from the side of the brookie’s mouth with as little discomfort as possible,
Katie raises the aquiline wonder to her face and offers it a blessing, then returns
the creature to the comfort of its world. For a moment, the brookie seems to
pause and reflect on what just happened.
Was that an angel that just held its
body and released it?
The next day, I rise early to go to work and Katie is
already in the studio working on a new painting.
I notice the blue halos around the burnt orange spots
on the flank of the subject that is being created out of oil and canvas and
smile.
