My most recent work-in-progress.

THE MIAMI RIVER RAPIDS, anytime from the dawn of time until 1908, when the oolitic limestone (I prefer the generally used “coral rock”) waterfalls and ledges were  destroyed by dynamite as part of the bold new campaign to “drain the Everglades,” and redeem the perfectly good land from “muck.” Here you see a view of the North Fork of the Miami River, the primary point at which the massive quantities of clean water flowing from the Everglades marked the beginning of the Miami River.

This was an area popular with residents at the time.  Much was written of its beauty.  Especially in the wintertime, it was a wonderfully picturesque setting for a picnic.  The sound of falling water is always refreshing, and soothing.  And just imagine the variety and abundance of birds flying overhead, and the “fresh Earth” smell of the living forest meeting the open Everglades.

For a more modern reference, think of the planet Pandora in James Cameron’s Avatar, and turn up the color just a couple notches.

 

An illustration of the site from Harper’s Magazine, early 1900’s.

 

 

Things were different, before man came.  Fresh water bubbled up from the white sandy bottom of the river itself, and in fresh water "boils" out in the Bay from which my Grandfather used to replenish his water supplies while out boating, or fishing.  No one thought twice about the laying of the sewage lines from Flagler's lovely yellow Royal Palm Hotel so they'd empty their raw content directly into the River.  Considerable damage resulted from that alone, but the people had then only started to come.

Disposal of Refuse, Saturday, Miami River.  Behavior like this, if you think about it,  could result only from a working belief that "this is somebody else's river," and an assumption that the most short-term of  "solutions" would resolve even the nastiest and most serious of  problems .

 

Oh, but before!  How it would have taken your breath away!

 

 

The view from this site of the painting would have been sensational in all directions.  If you turned your gaze toward the racing river, you’d see deep green forest, thriving and ancient, with the white foaming terraces of clean water making their way down, down  to the River’s mouth at Biscayne Bay, about one mile away.

Mouth of River, 1871.  The site would be homesteaded by visionary pioneer Julia Tuttle about 20 years later.

Between this point and that, the water dropped 10 feet , to sea level.  Much of that descent happened quickly, dropping nearly seven feet down within the first 450 feet of flow.  The area was called a “rapids” for good reason, and no joke, or exaggeration.   The force of the flowing water made rowing or paddling one’s craft upstream nearly impossible.   The custom for those heading upriver to “see the Ever-Glades” was to disembark and walk along the shore, tugging their reluctant craft along with a rope held tight until they’d arrived at their destination.

The location today would be around NW 27th Avenue and the Miami River. Near the site, in fact, is a city park called Miami River Rapids Mini-Park, on NW 27th Avenue at 21st Terrace.

Its name is the only remaining evidence of what once was.  Oh yeah, and my painting.

A simplified  “color negative” (OK, so I made that term up!) to help clarify my understanding, and focus on shapes.

IT is a fascinating and enriching process to undertake an “imagined” historical landscape.  It is my intention to capture with the greatest possible accuracy what was.  And so, I look for clues.

Here was a great find, an “A-Ha!” moment.  Upon study and contemplation of the picture above and that below, I discerned an “overlap” between them.  The first provides a more complete panoramic view of the scene, but misses almost completely the real drama of the rapidly falling water.

The second, fortunately taken  by a photographer from a lower point of view, captures beautifully the terraced effect of the rapidly falling water.  I can almost hear its ancient song of motion, dancing. Even now:

 

With a little color thrown in, to help me understand.

I cannot bring back what was; it is forever gone. But I can and will honor the Earth, and help you remember.

And invite you to imagine, and enjoy a moment of rest.

 

Thank you.

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