Here in my room with Montana sun streaming in every window I feel I am at the beginning of my thinking, not moving toward the last faze. Still stretched out before me is the impossibility of the deep blue horizon, a fact and a fiction. With a process repeated four summers now I continue even though the horizon is never reached. I am happy to do it again: to sit at my table tracing shadows, to visit the same locations, to reach for the truths that hold us to the earth. Is it art? I have no idea. Am I a professional? That is a self-defeating question. But, do I try? Do I repeat the process and aim to achieve skill, to answer the questions? Yes.
It is not fly-fishing if you are not looking for answers to questions. Norman Mclean