As a kid I remember fishing from a dock in front of a motel we stayed at on a lake in Michigan. This was great excitement for a little six or seven year old kid. Stars above, lily pads and the occasional plop of a fish jumping. Those were the days, when catching a small catfish meant the world to me.
Now I’m fishing in the dark again, at the Musée de la civilisation in Quebec City. There, we wander through dark rooms, filled with horribly lit exhibits, forever wondering what idiot decided that museum-goers wanted to experience a haunted house atmosphere while trying to see the displays.
But on a day in December, there I was, with a couple of my sketching buddies, sitting in the dark with book lights on our sketchbooks, trying to draw the few objects that were lighted well enough that we could kinda-sorta see them.
I was drawing an extinct sea bass that must have been 12-15 feet long. It was massive. It was less than eight feet away from me and yet I couldn’t see it. Repeatedly I had to get up, walk over to the fish and look hard to find where the belly of the fish was and to find the pectoral fin. And, of course, the most pressing question of all required another walk – what did the tail look like? After all, it was only three feet tall so how could I expect to be able to see it from eight feet away (grin)
I tell you all this because I’m going to show you my sketch of this giant fish but I can’t vouch for accuracy whatsoever. But I did capture a fish, in the dark, on that December day.