Standing Fisherman

The one that rose from the deep

The day the sea gave back

The ship rides at anchor in the bay, tall masts against the cliffs. Most of the crew are aboard, mending nets and telling old stories. But two have taken the small boat out toward the rocks, because the morning is calm and the fish have been running.

One of them is standing up in the boat. You’re not supposed to stand up in the boat. Everyone knows that. But he has felt something take the line: something heavy, something old, something that hasn’t been caught in a very long time. And when a fish like that takes your line, you stand.

The water erupts. A huge fish breaks the surface, curving through the air with its fins spread wide and its mouth open, spray flying. Gulls wheel overhead. The second man grips the oars. The one standing braces his legs, leans back against the line and holds on.

Neither of them will ever forget it. Years later, in a pub far from here, one of them will tell the story and the other will say, no, it was bigger than that.

The artwork

The fish dominates the upper left of the coaster, arched in a great leaping curve, its body covered in fine scales, its dorsal fin spiked and raised, and its mouth wide open toward the right. A taut fishing line runs from the fish down to a man standing upright in a small boat at the lower right, leaning back and holding the rod firmly. Another figure sits in the boat with him.

Behind them, the bay opens out to a distant sailing ship at anchor and a smaller vessel. Tall cliffs rise on the right, birds wheel through the sky, and waves curl in the foreground, swirling up around the fish.

There’s a lovely sense of scale and history here. The sailing ships give the scene the feel of an old tale, while the fish’s leap gives it all the drama of the present moment. On warm wood with rounded corners, the whole piece has the look of a vintage engraving from a sea-faring book.