Benched Week 61: of anchors and bubbles

My first encounter with Baltimore’s Inner Harbor came when,six months before my wedding, I quit my nine-to-five job to start freelancing.  First up: helping an established illustrator paint a seascape on the walls above the tropical fish tank in the National Aquarium, just a month or so before it opened.

Coming back today, felt like a returning to an anchoring memory.  How suitable it was that a huge anchor lay nicely along the harbor walkway as a reminder.

But the harbor had changed over the years.  Gone were the fun little food stands inside the building Don and I frequented during our lunch breaks.  Now, restaurant chains muscled each other in the tight space and – believe it or not – Ripley’s had staked a claim, announcing its presence with an aggressive-looking sea serpent.

The change made me slightly nostalgic.  Though, I realized as I sat across the harbor from the aquarium, the anchor of this memory was actually more about what I learned about work from Don than it was about the place.  He told me during those days, “Among professional illustrators, everyone works at, like, a 95% level.  To stand out, you have to do 97%.  That little extra you put in – that makes all the difference.” 

I had no idea at the time how that advice would become a standard for all my work that followed through the years.  Not that I’ve attained it consistently.  But I’ve never drifted far from that point.  That’s what anchors help you do.

And little did I realize the crazy, unpredictable career I would have.  How could I have imagined, as a young, untested artist riding the coattails of another painter’s success, that I would find myself back here as the featured artist of a major conference?  There’s nothing like bumping into a long-ago version of oneself to see the crazy, twisting ride of life.

Thinking of this, I started back to the hotel.  When I glanced up at the aquarium, I saw this sign and laughed aloud.

I strolled over to take a close shot of it and walked into a swirling explosion of bubbles.  A young boy fired a long stream of them into the harbor breeze as his brother jumped around trying to catch them.

One large bubble flew around me then danced on currents between the dock and the boat moored close by. Before the bubble burst, its unpredictable journey lasted impossibly long for such a delicate thing.  So many twists and turns.

Indeed.

Amazing things do happen every day.