Although only a couple of hours north, it was markedly colder. The Annapolis harbor was frozen and except for gulls and ducks, there was little activity on the water.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
The Last One
We drove to Annapolis, Maryland yesterday for a family funeral at the Naval Academy. A bittersweet reunion with cousins. Now, all our parents, aunts and uncles have passed on. They were special and are missed.
Although only a couple of hours north, it was markedly colder. The Annapolis harbor was frozen and except for gulls and ducks, there was little activity on the water.
Although only a couple of hours north, it was markedly colder. The Annapolis harbor was frozen and except for gulls and ducks, there was little activity on the water.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Clay Work
Eleanor and I have been collaborating on maritime ceramic sculptures. I started by making boats in wood for her clay figures and have recently changed to clay as well. It is in the early stages but we have finished a number of pieces and have shown a few in our Florida gallery to good response. It has been a nice complement to our daily painting.
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| Bread Winner |
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| Trophy |
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| Eleanor's latest, awaiting glaze and fire |
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| 'Boatbuilding' in clay |
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Chilly
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Wednesday, February 18, 2015
A Drascombe's Rudder
I made a small, teak, slotted wedge to slip under the pivot section of the rudder when raised in shallow water. The heavy rod portion is covered in split PVC pipe and a thick sleeve bushing keeps the bronze rudder head from grinding in to the deck plate.
It all went back together and its off to the next pre-season task...
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| stainless steel 'knock-up' rudder |
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| bronze rudder head assembly that accepts the tiller |
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| rudder in raised position |
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| 'self-steering' |
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Thursday, February 5, 2015
New Work
Spending these cold days in the studio with the stove cranking out heat. I need to work hard to have work ready for the spring season. Forging ahead...
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| Early Morning Still acrylic on canvas 24 x 30 © Curtis Bowman 2015 |
and if you are interested in a custom boat portrait, send me a note... hbdgcurt@yahoo.com
Monday, January 26, 2015
Fire Power
I have been thinking about Spring. When Annie is put back together and launched I am visualizing a first-pull start. Hoping the same for you as well... that is, if you use the 'other' propulsion!
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Fire Power
Oil and transfer on steel
© Curtis Bowman 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Packing
Starting to load paintings and gear. Heading south in the morning for galleries in Georgia and Florida. Leaving a painting of the FD Crockett to finish another day.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
The Long Night
I went to see my friend Steve in Chesapeake a few days ago and shared some old sailing books. I had also found a log from 1979 tucked in the bookcase. I read a number of entries and felt it might be a good idea to write down my memories of one that seemed sketchy and lacking in detail. Actually it was the day before and early hours through that night that really tells the story.
It was mid- autumn in the small harbor of Beaufort, North Carolina. On a open-ended cruise south from Kill Devil Hills on the upper Outer Banks, the Beaufort anchorage was a nice respite. It was the early afternoon of October 30 and it had been a beautiful day. Being a little high on this new sea-steading lifestyle I decided to abandon the Intracoastal Waterway and run the coast to Masonboro Inlet near Wrightsville Beach, approximately 80 miles SW. The tides were favorable in so far as the inlet was concerned and the weather reported an upcoming shift to the north but no alarms.
Setting out Quelle and I made the sea buoy at 1600 hours. The wind had freshened and wave height grew quickly. I decided at that point that it would be better to retrace my track and return. The wind was by then out of the north and close-hauled she made a bit of progress only to be knocked off by the growing waves. I put on foul weather gear and continued into the sea for another thirty minutes or so. Hove to I dropped the overpowered main and decided to run off under jib.That was the beginning of a long night.
The sun set to port and I switched on the running lights.Wind NE, seas were 4-5 feet with a decent period. Running downwind was a relief for the 5 knots through the water had been sutbracted from the wind speed. As night fell the wind steadily increased and the seas heightened. My 8 ft. Dyer-style dinghy was riding fine off the stern on a 20 foot painter. Today I would not be towing a dinghy. But I'm no longer in my 20s either. The waves grew to 10 feet, and it was up to the top to see the crests and down to the trough to face the wall. Over and over again through the dark night.
With first light came an eerie glow that was as welcome as strange. Daylight was close and it was time to start working west from the 5 miles I reckoned to be offshore. The wind and waves were still high, 30 knots and 10-12 feet. I wested slowly as the light increased. Just as land came into sight it all changed... a feeling. I looked back to see a wave breaking. It engulfed the dinghy, the painter snapped, the small boat disappeared, and the wave continued, knocking me down into the cockpit. Instinctively, I suppose, I shoved the tiller to starboard. She reeled and took the second one across the bow. And then it was as it was for hours. Up and down in the waves again. But I had changed. My heart was pulsing and a clear mandate shot through me. We had to get in. Now.
Removing the top washboard I reached down and grabbed the VHF hand set, stretched the coil cord back and called the Coast Guard on 16. I told them of my estimated location and was asked to describe any structures I could make out on the beach. After a short time a vertical-striped condo came in to view and the operator identified it saying that I would be seeing a large rock jetty a mile or so farther. When it came into view I could see waves breaking against it shooting high in the sea spray-filled air. My directions were to hug the end and keep close to the rocks, then I was to make a hard turn to starboard. Getting close I cranked the small inboard and began sheeting in.
As we rounded I felt like we were dropping in an elevator. Water was breaking to leeward and we barely held to the protected water behind the jetty. The inboard groaned and I continued through the inlet until able to drop anchor in a seemingly quiet area. I fell in the wet cabin and what seemed like no time found myself waking to find her dragging in the current. I scurried to get underway but lost ground and started to hit bottom. A power boat came by out of nowhere and asked if I needed help and I accepted gratefully. They towed us to a dock where I tied up.
18 hours at the tiller had left me exhausted. With help I scoured the beach but the dinghy was never found. I learned a lot that night... about single-handed sailing and myself.
It was mid- autumn in the small harbor of Beaufort, North Carolina. On a open-ended cruise south from Kill Devil Hills on the upper Outer Banks, the Beaufort anchorage was a nice respite. It was the early afternoon of October 30 and it had been a beautiful day. Being a little high on this new sea-steading lifestyle I decided to abandon the Intracoastal Waterway and run the coast to Masonboro Inlet near Wrightsville Beach, approximately 80 miles SW. The tides were favorable in so far as the inlet was concerned and the weather reported an upcoming shift to the north but no alarms.
Setting out Quelle and I made the sea buoy at 1600 hours. The wind had freshened and wave height grew quickly. I decided at that point that it would be better to retrace my track and return. The wind was by then out of the north and close-hauled she made a bit of progress only to be knocked off by the growing waves. I put on foul weather gear and continued into the sea for another thirty minutes or so. Hove to I dropped the overpowered main and decided to run off under jib.That was the beginning of a long night.
The sun set to port and I switched on the running lights.Wind NE, seas were 4-5 feet with a decent period. Running downwind was a relief for the 5 knots through the water had been sutbracted from the wind speed. As night fell the wind steadily increased and the seas heightened. My 8 ft. Dyer-style dinghy was riding fine off the stern on a 20 foot painter. Today I would not be towing a dinghy. But I'm no longer in my 20s either. The waves grew to 10 feet, and it was up to the top to see the crests and down to the trough to face the wall. Over and over again through the dark night.
With first light came an eerie glow that was as welcome as strange. Daylight was close and it was time to start working west from the 5 miles I reckoned to be offshore. The wind and waves were still high, 30 knots and 10-12 feet. I wested slowly as the light increased. Just as land came into sight it all changed... a feeling. I looked back to see a wave breaking. It engulfed the dinghy, the painter snapped, the small boat disappeared, and the wave continued, knocking me down into the cockpit. Instinctively, I suppose, I shoved the tiller to starboard. She reeled and took the second one across the bow. And then it was as it was for hours. Up and down in the waves again. But I had changed. My heart was pulsing and a clear mandate shot through me. We had to get in. Now.
Removing the top washboard I reached down and grabbed the VHF hand set, stretched the coil cord back and called the Coast Guard on 16. I told them of my estimated location and was asked to describe any structures I could make out on the beach. After a short time a vertical-striped condo came in to view and the operator identified it saying that I would be seeing a large rock jetty a mile or so farther. When it came into view I could see waves breaking against it shooting high in the sea spray-filled air. My directions were to hug the end and keep close to the rocks, then I was to make a hard turn to starboard. Getting close I cranked the small inboard and began sheeting in.
As we rounded I felt like we were dropping in an elevator. Water was breaking to leeward and we barely held to the protected water behind the jetty. The inboard groaned and I continued through the inlet until able to drop anchor in a seemingly quiet area. I fell in the wet cabin and what seemed like no time found myself waking to find her dragging in the current. I scurried to get underway but lost ground and started to hit bottom. A power boat came by out of nowhere and asked if I needed help and I accepted gratefully. They towed us to a dock where I tied up.
18 hours at the tiller had left me exhausted. With help I scoured the beach but the dinghy was never found. I learned a lot that night... about single-handed sailing and myself.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Starting Winter Maintenance
A bit warmer and sunny on Saturday. With tools and lumber loaded in the truck I headed for Urbanna after dropping a painting off at the gallery in Mathews. Annie's mast and self-furling headsail needed some work. I made a 'ridge pole' to substitute for the mast that typically supports the boat cover...
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| Tabernacle |
The mainmast is a rather short spar, 13' 8". When raised its effective length is increased by the sliding gunter yard, that together support the large, triangular-shaped mainsail. When underway and the yard is dropped and lashed to the mast, most low bridges are easy to slip through.
The mainmast pivots on a deck-mounted tabernacle fitted with a 1/2" stainless bolt that acts as a pivot pin. When down, the mast rests on a crutch stepped into the mizzen mast position. This creates the nice 'ridge' to support the cover.
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| Ridge pole |
The dodger is typically folded down below the dropped mast. I decided to remove it as well and upon return to the my studio/shop, I cleaned the clear plastic windows and stored it away. The spar made its way to the overhead... hopefully out of the way in my small space.
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| Mainmast and headsail stored awaiting repairs |
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| As the sun set... Sunny Jim took off the chill |
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Frenchy's
There is an art gallery called Frenchy's down in Mathews County, Virginia. It's small, very local and quite eccentric. Ben Richardson, the purveyor, has family roots that go deep. He carves Chesapeake wildlife, likes his PBR, and sells my paintings. We have become good friends and we are working together to find small ways to utilize art in the preservation of maritime traditions on the Bay.
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| Down on Main Street |
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| Ben |
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| Packing Crabs © Curt Bowman 2014 |
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Winding Down
2014 is steadily nearing its run. It was a good year for being on the water and exploring what it means to those who work it and those who use it to find themselves. I count myself among the later.
I spent a lot of this year painting maritime, both representational- for the most part images of waterman and their work boats; and abstract, non-objective pieces that reflect (I hope well) my on-board feelings that range from tranquility and wonderment to moments of fear.
I really enjoyed sailing across to the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia this past year, and 'sneaking around' the beautiful Rappahannock River and its creeks.
Its our second year here in Virginia, and the end of the first year in our house in Richmond we call Base Camp. I believe we will be here for a while. We are making new friends and there is a lot of the Chesapeake and Outer Banks left to discover.
Off to Kentucky tomorrow for a few days to play a bluegrass Christmas gig then back home with the girls. Its a great time of year and I am quite lucky in more ways than I probably know. I hope everyone reading this is well, with their families this holiday and staying warm fixing and renewing their boats in anticipation for spring.
I spent a lot of this year painting maritime, both representational- for the most part images of waterman and their work boats; and abstract, non-objective pieces that reflect (I hope well) my on-board feelings that range from tranquility and wonderment to moments of fear.
I really enjoyed sailing across to the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia this past year, and 'sneaking around' the beautiful Rappahannock River and its creeks.
Its our second year here in Virginia, and the end of the first year in our house in Richmond we call Base Camp. I believe we will be here for a while. We are making new friends and there is a lot of the Chesapeake and Outer Banks left to discover.
Off to Kentucky tomorrow for a few days to play a bluegrass Christmas gig then back home with the girls. Its a great time of year and I am quite lucky in more ways than I probably know. I hope everyone reading this is well, with their families this holiday and staying warm fixing and renewing their boats in anticipation for spring.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
On the Wall
Eleanor and I recently returned from Florida where we had a successful showing of our paintings and sculpture at Amiro Art & Design. It is the first time I have shown a selection of my maritime abstract series On the Quay. If you would like to see more of the artwork visit CurtisBowman.com and hold down the Painting tab...
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
What Sailors Do
The small craft sailors I know for the most part do one of two things. Go sailing or think about going sailing. It's 30 degrees (F) here today. I'm was just thinking.
And then- this image popped up in my thought...
And then- this image popped up in my thought...
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| Tampa Bay |
Know what I mean?
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Swamp Wagon
We just returned from a week in Florida. On the way down we stopped at my brother-in-law's in the port town of Brunswick, Georgia. He had a friend there working at the house who lived along the St. Mary's River, the winding border between Florida and Georgia. His vehicle spoke a lot about the Old Florida rarely visited anymore.
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