The Bubble Factory

These days I spend zero time working on new visual art. But the two or three times a moth I sell a print from my first Etsy shop, I am often reminded of the passion I once felt for creating it. I have written about it before. . . the visual art was my last great attempt to create "adult art" with adult meaning and life perspectives but, while it provided a wonderful creative outlet for my energy, and I am proud of everything I ever did that is listed, I look at it all now like diary entries really.

This morning I awoke to the sale of a print of this piece below called "The Bubble Factory"

I am instantly reminded of a few things.

Created in 2011, this was one of the last original pieces I made while living in the city of Portland. That industrial building was right outside our apartment's art studio room.

Over the two years living there my feelings about that building and view went from grateful as, at first, there was the beauty of the total lack of people. . . only birds came to visit that roof and our windows.  . . eventually to feeling the ugliness of the utter lack of closeness to untouched nature. While it was better than staring at traffic or the masses, it still lacked soul.  It was during that mood/time I created this image hoping to put a little magic back into the view and in city life. 

And it was during that time I felt the entire shift inside to wanting magic all around me. . . all the time. . . whichever way I looked. And that feeling led us to live here

Ok, we do NOT live with this view out our window, our place in down there in the midst of that tiny town just across from the bay and marina.  But the magic of this place. . . and seeing sights like these that follow, every day, were exactly what my soul needed.  :)

nicolas

 magic. . . indeed.

Cormorant

It's a natural experience, living at the Oregon Coast, to see birds of all sorts on any given day.

It becomes such a part of the daily routine to share this space with pelicans, gulls, herons, egrets, geese, killdeer, cormorants, mergansers and kingfishers that I imagine at times I am obblivious to them as I go about my day. . . .

But how quick I can be to notice when something si not quite right with one of them. . . .

. Walking the foggy shrouded beach yesterday we were drawn immediately to a lone cormorant in the distanc. grounded at the surf's shifting edge. The distinctive shape unmistakable.

I think I knew instantly that something was not right. There are rarely lone cormorants with no others in sight. They rarely occupy the beach, choosing instead the rocks and old pier poles of the bay where they can dry their wings and rest while watching the water for small fish to pass by.

Approaching this cormorant, it was now a certainty that it was not ok. I won't go into the entire episode of my interaction hut, it was clear after one slow approach that I was not going to get close to it. I left it alone and walked to a driftwood log to sit and watch it awhile. A few minutes later, as two young boys emerged from the fog and ran towards it, it DID manage to fly using both wings. . . . but only a foot or so off the ground and it would just go far enough to get away from the kids, then land and again stay to the surf line on it's feet.  Occasionally it would swim out, dive under the surf and pop up again a few feet out, only to return with the next swell. . .

Now, cormorants are amazing swimmers so this one wasn't likely "land-locked" by the waves. .  and they are even more prolific fishing birds. Around here, the local fisherman got permission to start a program (as it is Coho salmon season) to "scare" the cormorants away from salmon runs. They use fireworks known sometimes as bird-bangers or bird rockets, to frighten them away. . . heaven forbid the birds might get more fish than the "sport fishermen" before the run is cut off.

Eventually, we had to move on and get back to our work day in the studio. . .  the last scene in my mind was looking back at that vast open expanse of foggy beach and there, with no other creatures in sight, was the lone cormorant. Standing at the surfs edge. . . my heart was so torn.

I can only hope that the cormorant was just stunned by something like the bird-scaring fireworks and was able to soon rejoin the routine of it's flock. It is amazing how one lone bird, struggling in any way in it's environment, can touch me so deeply.  The ocean never looked bigger or more daunting than it did in comparison to that one cormorant.

I know we all find aspects of animal behaviour that pull us closer to a certain breed or species. For me, with cormorants, it is the way they dry their wings after swimming. Yes, they actually dry them. Though it is still quite a debate as to why they dry them or exactly what purpose the drying serves. . .

They dive from the surface, though many species make a characteristic half-jump as they dive, presumably to give themselves a more streamlined entry into the water. Under water they propel themselves with their feet. Some cormorant species have been found to dive to depths of as much as 120 feet. After fishing, cormorants go ashore, and are frequently seen holding their wings out in the sun. All cormorants have preen gland secretions that are used ostensibly to keep the feathers waterproof. Some sources state that cormorants have waterproof feathers while others say that they have water permeable feathers. 

If you have never seen this particular behaviour of a cormorant, I've included an image below. . . that posture, often held for a few minutes at a time, is what  am so drawn to with cormorants. It is something my soul recognizes as being truly divine.

In silhouette at a distance, or close up, it is unmistakable. . .  to see a dozen or more of these magnificent birds in a leafless tree with many of them spreading their wings out like that . . . holding them in that pose. . . it is impossible not to be in awe.

I don't know why I wanted to write this today.  Some things just stick with us I suppose.  Its hard to shake the image of that one bird. Alone on that vast shore. Which is, of course, exactly how I see us all in essence.  It's just our nature. . .