Sturgeon Bend

Lessons learned under the August Moon

Sturgeon on the Suwannee. 72”x36”. Oil on Canvas 2013 (Feast of Flowers)

There’s a place, a special place, a high sand bank on the Suwannee River. I hate to give away where it is but I doubt anyone who hasn’t been will go there. It’s not so much secret, nor more special than anywhere else. At least not to the casual observer. Some days I think of places I’ve been. Magical moments. Places I looked at the world with awe and wonder.

Were they real? Were they the stuff of dreams? Were they illusions? Were they a cruel trick my mind played on me to make me think think things were better than they were?

Time and distance ask questions of these moments.

Part of my practice as an artist is to record. Document those times and those places.

The Sturgeon moon waxes full on August 9, 2025. It’s called the Sturgeon Moon because this time of year the ancient fish are most likely to travel from the salty ocean to the fresh water. The past had these creatures caught and slaughtered. Their eggs harvested and consumed as a cocktail party delicacy.

During the late summer, the Gulf Sturgeon (Acipenser oxyrhynchus desotoi) travels upstream into the various rivers that drain into the Gulf of Mexico. The fist is anadromous, which means that it lives in both salt and fresh waters. They are an ancient fish. Their ancestors lived during the time of the dinosaur, more than 225 million years ago. They are mysterious. Scientists speculate their reason for lunging high into the air. Often they grow to enormous size, exceeding six feet in length.

When paddling a kayak or canoe on the Suwannee it is quite a surprise to have one of these leviathans jump a few feet away from you. The feeling is terrifying and glorious.

My mind takes me back to Sturgeon Bend. It’s a mile or so south of the Interstate 10 crossing of the Suwannee River. It was a favorite camp site on our many overnight trips on the river. The sand bank could hold the many tents and a good sized camp fire. We would all sit around the fire into the night. Recalling the various points of our down river paddle. On a late summer evening the splash of the Sturgeon goes into the night.

I found a video I shot from the sandbar at Sturgeon Bend early one morning. It’s a bit tedious but wait and you’ll see what I witnessed. I hope.

The creative mind is a monster. It takes the artist high into the air then deep into the dark caves below the earth’s crust. It can force tears of sadness and joy at the same time. We palm our cheeks, choke back the emotion and get to work. We are a bit like the Surgeon. We lunge toward the heights but are never quite sure why.

Under the Sturgeon Moon we find ourselves contemplating the message from this ancient namesake. Are lessons learned from the past considered wisdom if we ignore their significance? Some of us in these creative fields do fall into the age-old adages about trying the same thing over and over again expecting new results.

But we do try. We try to document the source of our tears. Find the bliss and the sorrow.

I’m coming to terms that I am officially in late-career mode. No longer can I be considered mid-career and certainly am decades beyond emerging.

At this late age, having been afforded my Three-score-ten, I move into legacy mode. Wonder if I’ll be remembered.

The Sturgeon Moon is a time of reflection. Crops are in. They are ripening and getting ready for the season of harvest. It’s time for introspection. What did I plant? Should I have done things differently? Should I sow a different seen next season?

I’m spending this time looking back at more than fifty years of work. Seeking a legacy project that sums it all up. The stories that I have been told by the Suwannee River loom large in my past and future oeuvre. Working daily on river paintings.

The Suwannee along with the rest of the Okefenokee system inspire me to create a body of work celebrating the Bald Cypress trees that line dark waterways in the southeast. TAXODIUM will be released during the next couple of years and will offer visual explanations of those majestic trees.

A champion Bald Cypress on the Suwannee River

Earlier this year, 2025, I finished and published a collection of short stories entitled Shantyboat Stories. This hard-bound book contains 23 pieces along with illustrations. They are the product of ten years of work. The stories are certainly not for each and every reader, but they are a heart-felt guide to the dark recesses of my brain.

I want to thank the hundreds of collectors, supporters, friends and sponsors who have made this journey enjoyable. They say, “It’s the little things,” and that is true. Some times we don’t realize how big and important those little things are. An old friend calling out of the blue, a check for a painting you forgot was even for sale. A mention here and there. A memory.

My advice to all during this time of reflection is a saying I grew up hearing as I left the house to go on an adventure. “Don’t forget who you are and where you came from.” I try to honor both.