Why We Keep Stopping the Boat: Come With Me and I’ll Show You What I’ve Been Noticing

Artist's Note

How lake art starts before it ever looks like art.

The finished canvas is the part people see. The quieter beginning is usually a boat day, a camera, a bank worth climbing, and one small thing that keeps asking to be looked at again.

A lot of the work begins here: out on the water, stopping often, gathering reference photos, and letting curiosity lead.

A lot of people see the finished artwork, but the part they don’t see is how often we stop the boat.

What makes us stop is usually seeing something I’ve never seen before, something that’s a particularly bright color, something I’ve been looking for, or something that looks native or rare. Occasionally it’s just a good sunset view. We do stop a lot because we take our dogs to the lake with us, but we also stop because I’m curious.

I’ve been extremely observational since I was a very small child. I’m hyper aware of my surroundings. When we’re out exploring, I’m looking and discovering at the same time. There are always things that catch my attention.

I take a ton of reference photos. When I take them, I’m trying to capture the color, the environment, and the location. The location gets tagged in the metadata, which is useful later. The photos also help jog my memory because I have an excellent visual memory. They serve as a traditional reference, but they’re also something I can share. I like discoveries and sharing.

Most reference photos never become paintings. But some discoveries stay loud in a quiet way.

Most reference photos never become paintings.

Why some become paintings and some don’t, I really don’t know.

All I can say is that some things really stick with me.

From reference to artwork

The Cumberland azalea is one of those things that stayed.

A reference photo can be evidence, memory, color note, and beginning all at once. This is where one lake discovery became a finished piece.

Reference photoThe plant that stopped the boat, started the research, and stayed in my mind after we got home.
Finished artworkThe finished piece holds the plant, the sandstone, the water color, and the feeling of that discovery together.

The Cumberland azalea is a good example. It could have been easily missed, but it felt like a really special thing. We were out with Nathan and the dogs, exploring one of my favorite places on the lake. We spotted it and climbed up the bank to get a better look. Then I came home and started learning more about it.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to express it in a painting.

Creating the artwork became another way to stay connected to that discovery experience. Being out in the woods. Being in one of my favorite places on the lake. Being there with Nathan and the dogs. The peace and quiet. The birds chirping. The feeling of finding something I had never seen before.

When I get home and look through my photos later, sometimes that day and sometimes months later, certain things stand out. Sometimes it’s a composition. Sometimes it’s the color. Sometimes it reminds me of a thought I was having while I was there.

The reference folder

Some photos are color notes. Some are questions. Some are proof that the small thing was really there.

These are not product images. They are the kind of field photographs that help me remember what caught my attention in the first place.

ColorSometimes the thing is simply the way light makes green look electric.
ResearchMountain Camellia / Stewartia ovata, the kind of find that leads straight into learning more.
DiscoveryA bright shape in the woods can be enough reason to stop and look closer.
MemorySometimes a flower keeps the feeling of leaving the lake at the end of the day.

I also fall down a lot of rabbit holes.

I spend a lot of time researching plants and animals that interest me. I enjoy the process. I have a massive reference photo collection because I genuinely like doing it. Every discovery tends to lead to another question, which leads to another discovery.

If someone spent an entire day exploring with me, they would probably be surprised by how much is already there that they didn’t notice before. With a slightly different way of looking, a lot more becomes obvious.

There are plants, animals, colors, and small details all around us that most people never really stop to look at. Once you start paying attention, it’s hard not to see them.

The plant work and lake work are tied together because the banks, coves, flowers, rocks, and shade are part of the same experience.

Where it comes from

The artwork comes from being curious enough to stop.

The finished piece is not just a picture of a lake or a plant. It is the record of noticing, returning, researching, remembering, and wanting someone else to see what felt worth seeing.

The artwork comes from that.

It comes from being curious enough to stop the boat.

It comes from wanting to know what something is.

It comes from climbing up the bank to get a closer look.

It comes from taking the photo, doing the research, and then thinking about it long after the day is over.

Most of all, it comes from wanting to share the discovery with somebody else.

Sharing is probably my highest motivation.

Artwork has always been a part of my life and influenced my life. I want other people to have thoughtful artwork in their spaces that isn’t mass produced. I want to share some of the things I’ve been noticing.

Because there is a lot to notice when you look closely. --Rachel

A few more field notes

Not every reference becomes a painting, but the looking still matters.

Butterfly milkweedA color note, a native plant note, and a future question.
Umbrella magnoliaLooking up can be as useful as looking across the water.
High Top lightThe easy thing to love is still worth saving.
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