MARINE ART:
Looking at
by Norma Stanford
A familiar sight to sailors on eastern Long Island Sound is the lighthouse at Race Rock, offthe west end ofFishers Island, NY. Fierce tidal currents and a large rock formation just three feet below the surface at low tide made the Race one ofthe most dangerous passages on the East Coast. "Race Rock Light," by Patricia Kelbaugh, watercolor, 20" x 15"
What is it about lighthouses that attracts us so? They dominate the landscape, overwhelming the natural beauty of their surroundings. They are big, simple, utilitarian structures, usually stark wh ite, but occasionally garish ly striped in red and white spirals or crude black and white bands. If they weren't lighthouses, we might find them ugly. Perhaps it's the associations: summer afternoons on the beach, a landfall after a difficult passage, stories of brave keepers who saved ships and Ii ves. Sad! y, the keepers are gone now , replaced by automation. The lights still beam out their welcome signals and the fog horns boom , but there is no one to return a wave as you sail past, as the young Coast Guardsmen used to do, pausing, perhaps, in a game of touch footba ll , to admire a passing schooner; there are no lines of wash flapping in the breeze. Always lonely, the li ghthouse has become an even lonelier place. But, still, we love them. We hike up to them, we photograph them, we try to capture them in ink and paint. And, in the best of circumstances, we protect them from vandalism and demolition through commun ity efforts and the work of the lighthouse preservation groups across the country. The paintings on these pages portray lighthouses in a variety of moods, from cheerful to somber. And in some of them, the sea is not even visible. But, like Edward Hopper's memorable "The Lighthouse at Two Lights," one doesn ' t need to see the water to feel its presence in the paintings. It is there in the cast of the sunlight, or in the mist; in the bending grass and the clouds. One can hear it, smell it and fee l its salt breeze even in its visual absence. •
This is the sunny day at the shore that we dream about in mid-January. But Ms. Mayer's title reminds us that the sea is awesomely beautiful in al/seasons. "BrantPoint Light in October," by Jessie Hull Mayer, watercolor, 11 " x 14"
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SEA HISTORY 63, AUTUMN 1992