CLYDE BUTCHER So, not so early one morning, we loaded up the boat and left the docks at Kona Kai for a photographic expedition with the photographer turned artist, Clyde Butcher. We weren't looking for fish, we were looking for something even more elusive. Clyde was aboard to find it. Like many of us who live here in paradise, AI had been out on the bay many times before and had marked in his mind his favorite spots. We visited them, but it was usually along the way that Clyde saw more than we did. Once, in the middle of a wide open stretch of bay he shouted to Al to stop the engine.The boat quickly came off plane and soon was dead calm in the center of a large bay. Far off in the distance a thundercloud was forming. We waited. Clyde said nothing. Then quietly he began setting up his camera. It's big and looks like the one's you see in those old photos taken around the time of the American Civil War. Clyde managed to get the tripod set-up on the deck over the center console. He asked me to reach into a large black bag he had brought aboard for a "sheet" of film. Picking it up, I was amazed to discover it weighed as much as a tackle box. It was only one negative; although at 8 by 10 inches it was larger than any film I was accustomed to.Clyde slid the film into the camera and told us not to move. Another boat went by at the far end of the bay. We waved and waited. Long after it's wake had rocked past us, Clyde buried his head under a robe of black cloth that hung off the back of his camera. The camera was pointing ahead; at what, AI and I were not sure. Al started to say something, but Clyde's muffled voice ordered us to be still and silent. A few minutes later we heard the click of the camem's shutter and Clyde reappeared. The image was captured. It wasn't until some weeks later that we saw it. Clyde had titled it "Florida Bay #3." It speaks reams about the tranquil beauty of what most of us call"the backcountry." We spent most of the day like that - motoring around until Clyde said "STOP." After that day and many others like it, Clyde said he had enough images for this first photographic excursion into the Florida Keys. He promised there would be others. The result of his work was a January 1998 showing at The Gallery at Kona Kai entitled "Clyde Butcher: The Other Florida Keys." Some 400 people showed up on opening night, when Clyde was signing fund-raising posters of what was to become his most famous shot of Florida Bay: "Little Butternut Key #1." While many of us bring back images of our experiences out on the Bay, Clyde has the unique vision and ability to capture those images so everyone can share a piece of the beauty and joy that fills our hearts every time we head out from our docks into the bay. That is the magic that Clyde Butcher brings to everyone who see's his work. His images show us Florida in ways that we could not imagine. The alluring beauty of Florida's west coast in Cayo Costa beach; the vastness of Marjory Stoneman Douglas's "River of Grass," as seen in Ochopee, the haunting beauty of Florida's wetlands in Big Cypress Gallery; or the serenity of the Grand Swamp in Disney Wilderness Preserve. Clyde's message is clear: the stark naturaI beauty of Florida must be preserved for all generations to see - for it is only beauty such as this that renews and enriches our soul and our heart. Perhaps no one knows that better than Clyde. Like most, Clyde was rushing from point to point, never stopping to truly "see," until one fateful day in 1986. It was Father's Day when a speeding car ran a light, crashing into another car with 16 year old Ted Butcher in the passenger seat. That tragic automobile accident, in which Clyde's teenage son Ted was killed, changed Clyde forever. To deal with the pain of his loss, Clyde would often awaken before dawn, pack his cameras and escape into the Everglades. After 4 months of daily forays into the swamps, Clyde Butcher the artist emerged. |
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