The brigantine skimmed the shoreline of the new country. The yardarms turned, squared the sails, revealed the ghostly line of the beach beyond the breakers like a woman lifting a veil.
The Explorer stood upon the deck of the ship. Across the waters the whinnying of the wild horse herd carried like a song. Scruffy, with unkempt coat and mane and unshod hooves, the stallion called to his mares, gathered them together. Their foals – his children- pranced alongside their mothers, their little necks arched, ears tipped fully forward. The young ones did not feel the nervousness of the stallion - his alert mistrust of the large white bird hovering just off the beach. He had never before heard the creaks and groans of such a bird, nor the flapping of the dark red flags at the tips of the tall masts. The Explorer could just make out the herd as they galloped across the sands, could feel the anxiety of the stallion.
A detailed map dangled from the Explorer’s fingertips. The holds of the ship carried much treasure and many fine navigational instruments. Other ships had carried the bodies of men. The Explorer knew such traders and could have made a fortune in this way. Packed tightly together, the buying and selling of men and women was very profitable, but the ship was ruined forever afterwards – the stink of such trade was too great and there was disease, and infection of the soul as well. The Explorer had wanted nothing to do with treasure of that kind.
The Explorer’s ship was a sweet vessel, and true, and her bowsprit had pointed the way to many discoveries, as surely as the needle on a compass pointed to the North. The discoveries had led to treasure and a lifetime of wealth. Now the Explorer stood watching these wild things, smelling their alarm, even at this distance. Back home, such creatures would have been hitched to fancy carriages, beautifully groomed with perfectly polished and trimmed hooves and necks held tightly in leather harnesses with shiny brass collar ornaments. A fashionable and showy set of animals made a fine impression on one’s colleagues and fellow society members.
The creatures on the beach had escaped from ships wrecked in storm, or their ancestors had.
Desperately they had kicked their way out of the ships’ stalls, broken the ropes that had imprisoned their heads and feet, had plunged into the sea, and, although they had never done it before, they had known how to swim and in what direction. Reaching the shore through the rough and whitened surf, they had shaken off the salty water and located island grasses. Found pools of fresh water. Their bellies became round with the salt that permeated all the vegetation on these barrier islands. In the summer they were tormented by biting flies and they learned to plunge into the ocean to drive them off. But come spring there were sweet fresh shoots to nibble and new grass to eat, and winters were not too long nor too hard. And they thrived, became a family, many families. The stallions fought and won, or lost, made new herds, and the island became their home for generations.
The Explorer knew these creatures would never accept the bridle and bit, would never wear fine leather and brass ornaments, would never be ridden. Would never even accept a caress. They were where they wanted to be, away from ownership, away from the reins.
The spirit of the horses leapt on board, infected the ship and the soul, and the Explorer never wanted to see the fancy carriage horses again. The white sails swelled like the belly of a pregnant mare and the ship of the Explorer headed away from the shore and out into the rising storm.
Acrylic on canvas with leather, silk, velvet, polyester microfiber, cotton, sequins, glass, carved bone, lapis lazuli, quartz, amber, garnets, pearls. 91 x 152 cm (36 x 60 inches)
