Swimming with Manatees

Herb and I were taking an exploratory walk around Kings Bay Drive one afternoon when we were greeted by a charming lady with a foreign accent. Pavla turned out to be an artist from Czechoslovakia--her American husband, Captain Fred Reed, is a local dive master, and their business, Art N Diving, offers personalized tours to see the manatees in Crystal River.

We agreed to go out with them late enough in the afternoon so the hordes of swimmers and paddlers at Three Sisters Spring, where the manatees hang out, would have thinned out. A high tide would improve our chances. The day was bright and sunny, but somewhat chilly.

Before starting out, we were made to watch a short video about manatee etiquette: one is not allowed to harass the manatees in any way. Harassment is defined as attempting to feed them or give them water (how one would give water to a manatee I can't imagine--aren't they already in water?), touching or approaching them, unless they approach you, and particularly separating any mother from her calf. No humans are allowed in the areas designated as refuges for the manatees. There are heavy fines and even jail time for anyone caught breaking these rules.

We were outfitted with full wet suits, masks and fins before boarding their boat and at their suggestion, I had brought a disposable underwater camera. The Captain cruised out of the canal behind their house onto to the main canal and then to Kings Bay. Out in the open water, the breeze was even colder--I was glad we'd brought our jackets.

Captain Fred Reed and Pavla

Herb on King's Bay

 The Captain took us around to our lagoon where we could see our rental house from the water, and then behind some islets past the King Spring, which is about 90 feet deep. A number of folks in the area told us the entire bay used to be crystal-clear years ago, but storm surges from hurricanes have made the water murky. There were buoys all around the bay indicating the refuge areas for manatees--no boats of any kind or swimmers are allowed there.

Our house

Crystal River has the largest population of manatees of the warm, spring-fed rivers on Florida's west coast. The manatee population is estimated at some four to five thousand individuals. The manatees swim up Crystal River in early November when the gulf waters start to get cold and stay until late March when the gulf begins to warm up again. The constant 72-degree water of the springs helps them to stay alive during the winter and prosper. We were told last year's record cold weather caused some one thousand manatees to die from cold stress.

After touring Kings Bay we went back towards the main channel and the entry passage to the Three Sisters Spring, which is marked with two posts. There were several manatees visible from the surface swimming lazily in the refuge areas by the banks of the stream as Herb and I entered the water. I got so excited I forgot the camera and the Captain called me back to hand it to me.

The water was pleasantly warm, and with the exception of a couple of kayakers, we had the springs pretty much to ourselves. The entry passage was narrow and we passed several manatees going in. I noted a large manatee tagged with a tracking device attached to his tail--the straps were padded so they would not hurt it and the tracker floated on the surface on a short line. I wondered what the manatee made of that.

Manatee with fish

Herb swims over sleeping manatees

Elena swimming with manatees

There were some thirty to forty manatees gathered at the spring, sound asleep. We were told they come up for air every twenty minutes or so when they sleep, though they must breathe more frequently when they are active. It was so funny to watch them come to the surface to take a breath, and then see them nosedive straight down again. Several baby manatees next to their mothers looked so sweet.  Herb and I swam around taking photos until our film was all used up. By that time our bodies were beginning to feel chilled, and it was time to swim back to the boat. Swimming with manatees is a celestial experience!

You can see more photos of our swim with the manatees in Flickr.

Fishing the Lagoon on Kings Bay

Fishing the Lagoon, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

The next morning was cloudy; mist wafted over the warmer water of the lagoon. I opened the curtains and saw a couple fishing on the lagoon. They were on a boat which was unusual to me--the boat seemed to glide with the prow pointing high out of the water and the man stood there working a rudder from the front with one hand while casting with the other. It looked most unstable yet the boat did not tip or shake. The motor idled with no wake.

Both the man and the woman were bundled up this chilly morning. They appeared to be expert casters, their bait skipping on the surface of the water as they reeled in. I wondered what kind of fish they were after. I brought out my pencils and a sketchpad and did some quick sketches as they plied our lagoon. They circled around a couple of times with no luck, and then moved on.

In the afternoon they came by again--by now they had shed their heavy jackets--and repeated the morning's ritual. After they had left, I went out on our dock with my painting gear and set it up to paint this scene, putting in the figures and boat from my sketches and memory.

Vacation in Crystal River

Crystal River Lagoon, watercolor, 10" x 5."

I never had a chance to post a single thing during our vacation--there was no internet connection at our rental house, and a few days later our laptop screen failed, so I am just catching up now with these postings from our vacation in Crystal River in Florida.

Herb and I drove off on the morning of Friday January the 14th and made good time on the road, but we didn't make it to Amelia Island where we had hoped to spend the night with friends. We had dinner in Savannah at a nice restaurant--the Sapphire Grill, and then found a hotel on the outskirts of the city off I-95. The next morning was pleasant--the frost that formed on the car overnight began to melt at about the time we got back on the road. The temperature rose to the 50's as we continued south.

We skipped lunch but stopped just outside Gainesville at a colorful fruit stand and bought some yummy-looking pomelos and Honeybell oranges to take to our rental house. We arrived in Crystal River in the late afternoon and managed to open the lock box as instructed, unloaded the car and went back out to find some groceries before settling in.

The house was not quite what I had expected--the view of the lagoon was wonderful but there were many houses around it, that illusion of wilderness I had hoped for was lacking. There was no back yard to speak of, only a somewhat deteriorated dock about 8' wide which faced north and got no sun at this time of the year. I had hoped to have a sunny spot where I could sit outside to paint, but since it was quite chilly at the time, that didn't seem very likely--maybe in a few days if it warmed up.

Spanish Moss, watercolor, 10" x 6."

The next morning I settled for painting from inside looking out the windows (it was really cold and windy). The first one is a small watercolor sketch of the view across the lagoon focusing on tiny section that looks wild. In the afternoon I tried another one, this time of the Spanish moss on the live oaks in front of the house. As the sun was going down I started to be tormented by no-see-ums or some other biting insect and realized I had forgotten to bring insect repellent, so I had to rush through this one to finish it. Anyway, here they are, for what they're worth.

Recycling Your Art

Recycling old paintings

When inspiration flags during the post-holiday blahs, a good chore to undertake is recycling old paintings. I gathered up all those old paintings that weren't too successful to begin with, and sanded them with rough sandpaper to smooth down any built-up paint. I then gave 'em two coats of acrylic gesso and presto! New panels for new paintings.

I'm really looking forward to our vacation in Florida. We'll start the drive down next Friday morning, spend one night on the road, to arrive in Crystal River the next afternoon. I am hoping the weather will be nice and allow for plenty of outdoor painting for those two weeks. One feels so cooped up in the winter in northern latitudes, even in mild areas like our Mid-Atlantic, tempered by the Chesapeake Bay and its rivers. A short mid-winter respite in warm weather can help one revive.

New Look for a New Year

On a New Year's Eve walk with my friends.

I've never liked those end-of-the-year/new-year's lists; in fact, I find them unutterably depressing! To most of us over a certain age, the turning of the year ends up being just another day we struggle to make memorable just because it IS a New Year, and after all, we need some milestones to mark the passage of time.

We start off each January full of hope and resolutions which gradually lose momentum until they are tossed aside with a twinge of guilt--the flesh is weak, we rationalize, or the time wasn't right--somehow nature conspired against the change. If we're lucky, on rare years, we manage to keep one or two of those resolutions that end up changing our lives irrevocably, and look back at those with wonder and gratitude.

The past year has been an eventful one, though not always in the ways one had envisioned--rightly so--what would life be without some surprises? Sometimes one small change starts a chain reaction that sets a number of things in motion, like a loose stone setting off an avalanche. A car accident in September forced me to replace my twelve-year old car with a newer one, which in turn encouraged me to replace my ancient cell phone; the breaking down of an old TV prodded us into upgrading to a new flat-screen and Blu-Ray. A new job offer much closer to home was a daunting but welcome change in the last three weeks of the year. I'll miss having my Fridays off, as well as the week between Christmas and New Year's, but it's still a good trade-off for the 75-mile-a-day commute.

To ring out the old year, yesterday I went down to southern Maryland to visit my friends in Accokeek. I'd hoped that perhaps it might be possible to paint outdoors, since the temperature has been rising to the mid-forties in the past few days. I really wanted a new painting to post. But the wan winter sun was not warm enough for comfort, so instead we settled for taking a walk along the Potomac River by Colonial Farm.

The ice was still fairly solid over the beaver pond along the road, and there were big chunks at the river's edge. The grasses in the swamp below the boardwalk were studded with lovely pools of snow and ice. Watching the ice floes in the middle of the river floating upstream lent the scene a surreal air--it took a few seconds to realize the effect was caused by the incoming tide. Mount Vernon was clearly visible on the opposite bank. Walking back toward the farm, it was feeding time for the animals. Colonial Farm raises what they call heirloom breeds, and I managed to take a couple of shots of their enormous Red Devon bull and one of the Ossabaw pigs before my camera battery ran down.

I learn a lot from my friends (and try to share what I know). Back at the house we talked about our art projects, blogs, photos and plans while enjoying some wine by the fire, and I realized I had never made use of Flickr to share photos with friends or readers of my blog. So today, to follow my resolution to try to become more tech-savvy and better integrate all the tech toys at our disposal, I have uploaded my photos from our walk onto Flickr in this set: New Year's Eve Walk. While I was at it, I gave the Maza Studio blog a new look for the new year. Hope you like them both. Your comments would be appreciated--please feel free.

Happy New Year!

Softer Winter Dawn

Soft Winter Dawn, pastel on Wallis paper, 12" x 9."

I wanted to paint another version of the winter dawn such as I've been observing during the past week. Most have been more muted, with the softer colors of a cloudier, more veiled atmosphere (with the snow almost gone). I thought pastels would allow me a different way to achieve the effect. I didn't realize I needed a wider a range of colors to make those subtle transitions from violet-blue to pink and peach in the sky. It's nearly impossible to mix pastels and keep the colors pure--you have to get as close to the exact val-hue as possible when you are dealing with pure pigment. A rough approximation, my painting seems a bit limited in range, but it strikes the right mood of mystery.

Winter Dawn

Winter Dawn, oils on panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

This past week I started a new job much closer to home. As a result, I have been able to sleep later in the mornings and see the sunrise as I am getting up, instead of starting my morning commute in the dark. At our latitude, the sun doesn't rise until well after seven this close to the Winter Solstice--a date I look forward to as the turning point of the year.

On Thursday we had a light snowfall, perhaps an inch and a half. The next morning, the sunrise was gorgeous, and I took some photos to help me remember the amazing colors in the sky. I finally had a chance to paint it today, putting in a bit more snow than there actually was on the ground. I keep wondering what kind of winter this will be: will it be as harsh and snowy as the last one?

Staggered

Staggered, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 16." Contact artist for price.

The weather has turned quite cold and I haven't been motivated to endure the freezing temperatures outdoors, so I am continuing to experiment with painting from photos.

One afternoon a couple of weeks ago I went out to the McKeldin area of Patapsco State Park. With the season's shorter days upon us, there wasn't enough time to complete a painting before dark, but I had just enough time to further explore some of the trails where I have been painting, looking for new locations for next year. I took my camera with me in case I came across some interesting sights.

I made a circle from the Rapids Trail to the Switchback Trail down to the North Branch and walking back up the hill, came across this six point stag browsing the vegetation. I was able to take several shots before he heard the shutter and turned around to look straight at me. After a few seconds of staring, he took off with a flick of his tail, running down the hill. I followed, but by the time I got back to the river, he was crossing the stream too far away for a good shot. The sun was setting, illuminating the tops of the trees on one bank with that orange light so characteristic of the season and the reflections on the water were brilliant. The whole scene was reminiscent of Winslow Homer's unforgettable paintings.

When I got home and printed my photos, I thought combining two shots to put the stag at the edge of the stream might work. Here is the result of my experiment. It is convincing?