I’m not an artist. I don’t even play one on TV.
To make a very long story very short, instead of living beside the ocean back in Florida, I’m now at Pineapple Hill –a beach house, up off the ground, in a cow pasture in South Carolina.
I grow banana trees, grapes and bamboo …and paint weird fish on recycled wood.
Each one-of-kind Carolina pallet fish was inspired by a love of the arts and a life spent enjoying the sea: beaches, islands, sailing and scuba.
People like them for their beach or lake houses, decks, porches and patios. They call them “ingeniously primitive” and “feral” –the expressions of a man marooned, a Carolina castaway calling out to the sea.
I hope someday to have a big party –a homecoming for these fishes and their people. We’ll meet up here at The Hill and arrange the pallets in the pasture then walk among them remembering what Cousteau said, that “the sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
We’ll feel –all of us– like the artist Christo that time he wrapped islands in fabric.
We’ll break open the coolers, fire up the grill, maybe play some volleyball.
It’ll be “concept art”. It’ll be fun.