Fishing interview

Evan Griggs from "Fishing for All" asks me some questions

Thanks for checking out my new website! Big news of a fishing illustration project will follow shortly, but I’ll kick it off with this interview I got to do for a great website: FishingForAll.com - They are a wonderful fishing education and guide service that operates throughout Minnesota and Wisconsin.

Evan writes:

Sam Robertson is a local artist who has long explored themes of fish and fishing, though only in the past few years has he actually discovered the thrilling and meditative nature of fly fishing for himself. His paintings, often set in a surreal or psychedelic version of the great outdoors, use humor to explore the human condition and our complex coexistence with the natural world. Learn more about his art, fishing, and cool future projects here!

What came first for you—art or fishing—and how did the second one sneak
into your life?

I’d say art. As a youngster, I liked the idea of fishing but didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes, so I’d go to the same fishing dock in Eau Claire, Wisconsin over and over and never catch anything but little bluegills. Then I mostly gave up on fishing for the next 20 years while learning to make art. In high school my brother exposed me to the author Richard Brautigan. His collection of short stories called “Trout Fishing in America” was very influential to me. It most likely primed me to give a hoot about trout in the first place, so then when I’d see pictures of friends fly fishing for trout on social media, it looked so idyllic and captivating. Sometime during the pandemic I bought a cheap rod and some waders and I loved it immediately, even in my initial ineptitude. I can’t get enough of it. I’m always so happy standing in a creek, even when (usually) I’m not catching anything.

Was there a particular moment when you realized fishing was influencing
your art (or vice versa)?

At some point (before I started fishing more in my 30’s) I noticed that fish were in quite a few of my paintings. I’m not exactly sure why I kept revisiting the fish theme besides liking how they look and thinking about them as a symbol of the subconscious. As long as I can remember I’ve had dreams about fishing. Weird ones, where I’m fishing indoors, or inside a cave, or there’s a tiiiiny little pond, yet huge fish live below the surface and I’m trying to catch them. My paintings started out perhaps a little critical of fishing and hunting, subversively reflecting on the consumer culture portrayed in outdoor gear catalogues and hunting/fishing magazines. Back then hunting and fishing seemed to me more like a human quest to dominate animals and the natural world, but I’ve since come around completely and believe that there’s few things more transcendent than meeting nature in that way. You can fish alone or with friends and either way it’s amazing. I can’t get enough of it. And the few times I’ve eaten fish I’ve caught with friends while camping are among the most joyful experiences of my life.

How does time on the water shape your creative process? Do ideas strike
mid-cast, mid-sketch, or when you’re untangling your line for the tenth
time?

I don’t know if I get many painting ideas when I’m actually fishing. But it calms my mind and makes me feel connected to the world. I like thinking about the water and the bugs and animals in it and how bodies of water connect like a primordial highway system. I love how streams and rivers are incubators of life, and how the fish and animals have wandered around freely in them forever. Just eating each other endlessly like maniacs. I’ll get lost in these thoughts while casting around and I’m able to access a similar flow state during painting sessions when I’m lucky. A day or a weekend of fly fishing goes by seemingly in the blink of an eye. Twelve hours on a creek feels so short. Same with painting when I’m feeling it.

I also like how fishing in itself is such a creative process. You’re working through problems all the time, making connections, trying to figure out what works. And it’s so collaborative. I learn faster when I’m fishing with friends. But then there’s also the sense of community if you’re out fishing solo. Everyone wants to know how it’s going. “Any luck?” “Catching anything?” “What’d you catch it on?” Strangers on the shore who are also fishing usually have helpful snippets to offer, or we exchange flies. Someone’s gifted me some split shot before to help get nymphs down to the bottom quicker. It feels like everyone has time for you, something that doesn’t happen quite the same way in the busy city.

What elements from fishing—textures, patterns, movement, quiet—show
up most in your work?

My paintings often take place in nature, so there’s overlap there. In my art I use humor to explore the human condition and how we coexist with the rest of the natural world – at times harmoniously, but often through destruction. I think the headspace I’m in while fishing parallels where I am while making art. Huge bursts of excitement wash over me while fishing when I’m thinking of how to catch something that I can’t even see. I love that you have to wait till the fish jumps or you reel it in close before you even know what you have on the line. Once last summer I thought I had a 10 or 11 inch trout with how it was fighting but when I got it in my net was a humble bluegill. The mixup had me chuckling.

With fishing you get rewarded for patience and planning. There’s a direct parallel to creative processes for me, where I’m in a similar spot of blindness. I don’t know what’s below the surface of my mind. I usually don’t know what I’m going to paint or make next, but when I’m open to the process, I can land an idea in my proverbial net. Fishing and art are so thrilling.

Fish have such distinct personalities. Do you have a favorite species to
capture artistically, and why?

Carp, trout, salmon, and bass have all shown up in my paintings. As well as a bunch of hybrids I’ve invented. I think I’ve painted a lot of carp because when canoeing down the Mississippi 15 years ago, a big one jumped out of the water and I saw it hit my friend in the back. It was quite surprising. It landed in our boat and we killed it, and meant to eat it but we couldn’t figure out how to fillet it. It had so many bones and I’d never filleted anything at that point so it was a bad place to start. We left it on the shore and ants found it right away and started going to town.

Are there fishing environments or moments that inspire you more than
others?

Nothing beats just standing in the water, looking around at all the glory. Or finding promising fishing holes when you’re bushwhacking around a stream you’ve never been to. Or coming up to a beaver dam and seeing just how much the water and entire environment changes around those. One memorable event fishing last summer in Preston was in the morning on our last day there when hundreds of swallows came flying out of their rocky dwellings to get their fill of some bug that had just hatched, and I tried three types of dry flies before matching the hatch with a pale morning dun. Then they were striking like mad for 30 minutes. That had never happened to me in such a dramatic way. I have a really hard time reading the water still. But when there’s a big chunk of time to truly reflect on what’s going on internally and out there in the world simultaneously, I feel like things start to click.

Which is harder: landing a trophy fish or finishing a piece of art you’re
completely satisfied with?

I’m lucky to be able to consistently finish paintings – to get them to a point that I’m happy with at least. I’m still an extreme novice at fishing so I haven’t caught too many large fish. I caught a decent-sized bass on the Namekagon river last summer, but that’s the exception, not the norm.

Has any fishing misadventure ever accidentally inspired a masterpiece?
That aforementioned jumping carp. Another time on the banks of the Mississippi down south, a friend and I struck up a conversation with an old fisherman and he handed me a fish, I think a decent walleye if my memory serves me right. I asked him “where do I hold it?” and he said matter-of-factly with no trace of humor, “It’s a fish you can hold it anywhere.” I drew a picture for that one but have since lost it.

More recently I painted one called “Babe I’m Gonna Be Late, Sorry.” It’s inspired by that difficulty I have calling it quits for the day, even when there’s something important going on after. This is the painting:

What do you hope anglers feel when they see their passion reflected in
your artwork?

Excitement to get back out on the water. And the humor that comes with the fishing life.

Is there a message you hope people pick up about conservation or the
beauty of aquatic life through your art?

I hope people have fun and meaningful experiences in nature – solo or with
friends/family. I’m not positive if that shows up in my paintings, but I put my soul into them, and respect nature so deeply, so maybe some of the wonder I experience when in the great outdoors gets funneled through the paintings to the viewer. I’ve got a project I’m going to reveal soon that will hopefully transmit those messages more clearly and directly. Stay tuned. You can follow along on my instagram @samrobertsonart if you’d like, or check out the next Fishing for All newsletter where I plan to divulge more. But just as a little teaser, I want you to get thinkin’ about if there are any good fishing stories you have that might lend themselves to being illustrated…

Thanks for reading, and thanks to Evan for asking such good questions that got me to think deeper about fishing and art! I want to fish and make art as long as I live. This last painting here is called “Red Zebra Midge.” It was the first fly I learned to tie, and the first fly I tied that I caught a trout with. They look so small and insignificant in yer hand, but they’re mighty. I wanted to capture their nature in a painting to immortalize their wonder.