Diana's Pool on the Natchaug River, Chaplin, Connecticut
© 2012 J. G. Coleman
My latest fine art prints come to you from an exceptionally scenic stretch of the Natchaug River in the northeastern corner of Connecticut. Boulder-laden and crowded to the banks with dense forest, the Natchaug River is one of those exemplary gems of Connecticut’s wildlands. In this new series, I’ve portrayed the Natchaug River cloaked in a thick blanket of mist, accentuating the remote atmosphere and rugged beauty of these waters in a unique way that imparts both serenity and mystery.
In “Diana’s Last View”, the Natchaug River boils with whitewater while coursing beneath rocky ledges just upstream of a popular hole known as Diana’s Pool. These days, Diana’s Pool is a nice place to a launch kayaks or go fishing on the Natchaug River, but legend has it that this was the stage for a classic tragedy long ago. It is said that a woman by the name of Diana, heart-broken over a former lover, leapt from the ledges beside the Natchaug River and met her fate in the rock-strewn rapids. Another version of the tale holds that she plunged into the river only after accidentally slipping upon a puddle of her own tears. “Diana’s Last View” is a fitting addition to this legend, possessing an atmosphere that is serene and remote, but also melancholic and almost foreboding.
Natchaug River near Diana's Pool, Chaplin, Connecticut
© 2012 J. G. Coleman
The wild essence of Connecticut is subtly evoked by “Natchaug Mist”, in which a stand of fog-shrouded conifers loom in the distance over the wispy rapids of the Natchaug River below. The introspective quality of this piece, as well as the others in this latest series, demanded hours of hiking along the river and composing photographs in the pouring rain. And yet, despite the oppressive conditions, I felt a peculiar kinship with the river that day. As I scrambled atop boulders in search of just the right views, I couldn’t help but notice that my wet clothes weighed heavily upon my frame and water-logged boots made each step feel labored. These days are rarely the type that we share with the forests and rivers of our home. Indeed, we tend towards communing with nature only on our own terms… whenever she happens to offer us blue skies, fluffy white clouds and t-shirt temperatures. But there’s something uniquely fulfilling about joining the trees for a chilly, sobering rain shower. It was almost if I and the trees, for just a few hours, were of a single mind… both of us silent and soaked through, but without the desire to seek shelter or escape to comfort.