Phalarope

When Rex was in his twenties, he was already committed to the project that would consume his life—painting all the birds of North America from life. As part of that endeavor, he determined that with the proper vessel, he could travel the entire eastern seaboard of the United States, sketching birds along the way. As a boy he had spent hours in boats on the Long Island Sound. While managing the photo engraving department at the Lakeside Press in Portland, Maine, Rex made arrangements with a shipbuilder on Long Island to build a sloop to his exact specifications, knowing it would take time to raise the money for the final purchase. When he learned that his sloop was ready, he named her the Phalarope after a bird he had seen and admired in his youth.

After sailing the sloop to Maine and testing its abilities, Rex departed on his journey south on August 1, 1895, with his first mate. With a stopover in the environs of New York City, Rex spent the better part of a year plying the coast with stops in New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia before ending the journey in the Florida Keys. Along the way Rex and his mate had numerous adventures and misadventures, but most important Rex ended the trip with hundreds of sketches of the native bird species he encountered. He sold the Phalarope and returned to New York in early May 1896 with his drawings and field notes.

We are privileged to have in our collection the unpublished account of Rex’s trip, titled “Down the Eastern Sho’: The Cruise of the Sloop Phalarope.” Although he never published it, he created a bound cover for his depiction of his sea journey.  In addition to the exquisitely handwritten text, describing each leg of the trip, he created watercolor illustrations for almost every page. The result is stunningly beautiful and records details of each coastal location at the tail end of the nineteenth century.  We hope to find a way to make this extraordinary work accessible at least in part to the wider public.

On the chart of the skipper's life no remembrances are keener than those days within sound of old ocean’s murmurings. On many a summer night while reclining against the boom, watching the fathomless stars, the pipe smoke drifting alee, has come to him a sense of perfect contentment and rest.

— Rex Brasher