Daniel Liam Gill

I’ve been star­ing at this paint­ing for quite some time, lost in it’s rip­ples and folds. I used to go fish­ing with my Dad a lot when I was young. He’d wake me long before sun­rise and we’d drive 70 miles to Alabama on the back roads of Geor­gia. It took for­ever, slow­ing down to 20 mph in every small town between Chat­tanooga and Cedar Bluff, but I loved it. I would sit and stare at the bob­ber, wait­ing for a bite and watch­ing the flow of the water.