In August of 2014, writer Kathi Ferguson interviewed William E. Cummings, in what would be one of his very last interactions with local media before passing away one month later. A fixture on the Eastern Shore for almost 90 years (he died at age 87), Cummings was long known in the community as an oysterman, before transitioning to “retirement” and skillfully illustrating his memories as a painter. We present his life story within the context of his final full interview.
An easel stood in the corner of artist William E. Cummings’ sunroom displaying a detailed sketch of several fishermen who appear to be going up against some pretty rough water. “Believe it or not,” Cummings explained, “this picture still has a way to go. Takes me a while before I get everything the way I want it, but it will turn out to be a nice painting.”
Working entirely from memory, this talented, yet humble, Tilghman, Maryland, native captured history and life as a waterman through his art for more than 45 years, before passing away in the fall of 2014. “It’s all up here, in my head,” he once said. “I don’t work with photographs. If I get a picture, it will come from somebody else. Most of the things I paint are from my life.”
Like most young boys who were raised on Tilghman Island during the 1930s, Cummings grew up on the water. Times were simpler then. The roads were mapped with oyster shells, and dozens of working boats made the island their home. Summer tourists enjoyed the pleasures of hunting and fishing, and the local Tilghman Packing Company was a major employer. Located in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, the island was ideally suited for the then-thriving seafood industry.
A family like Cummings’ depended on the bounty of the bay to make their living. “My father, Ernest— ‘Keenie’ for short—was a waterman, as was his family before him,” Cummings explained. “He wasn’t an educated man—could hardly write his name. But he was so intelligent. My dad was my teacher. He taught me so many things, and I always looked up to him.”
Many of those lessons were learned working aboard Old Ben, his dad’s boat. “I learned how to oyster when I was about 12 years old. In the summer months, we’d go seine hauling. Now, that was hard work, but I loved it!” Cummings said smiling, “Lots of my paintings tell stories of the seine haulers.”
Born in 1927, the younger of two children, Cummings and his sister Elizabeth “Lib” were 11 years apart. “Lib pretty much raised me after mom got real sick,” Cummings said affectionately. “The family always had breakfast together and then it was outdoors to play or off to school and home again for lunch. Mom would pack a couple of sandwiches for Dad to take on the boat.
“We didn’t have indoor plumbing and had to wash up in the basin outside before we sat down for meals,” he added. “We were sure to answer ‘Yes sir’ or ‘No sir’ when spoken to, and hats came off before coming to the table. Good memories.”
As far as he knew, Cummings was the only artistic one in the family. His passion for drawing began as a child. He remembered vividly, “In the evenings I’d sit with a little notepad and draw whatever came to mind—just play with it—people in different positions, moving them around, sometimes trying to put a picture together. I always had a pencil in my hand.” It was not until adulthood that this self-taught artist would use his talent as a means to preserve a piece of history.
Growing up, young Bill proclaimed that school was not for him—he wanted to work on the water. “Okay then,” his father told him, “Go pack up your lunch. We’re going fishing.” Off they went. It was a cold one that day and the temperature seemed to drop by the hour. It was not long before Cummings laid his oyster rakes down and announced that he was heading to the cabin to get warm. “No, you’re not,” his dad replied emphatically. “If you’re gonna work on the water, you’re staying out here. There’s no money to be made hiding below.” The disillusioned young fisherman quickly responded, “If you take me home, I’ll go to school!” Lesson learned. Bill was the first Cummings to graduate from high school.
Learning became addicting for Cummings. After high school, he enrolled in some classes at nearby Chesapeake College. “I took navigation, math, income tax, things like that,” Cummings said. “I wanted to learn everything!” At 18 years of age, he enlisted in the Navy but was discharged a year later because help was needed at home.
The tables had turned, and Cummings was caring for his ailing father who had lost both of his legs to diabetes. The physical loss, however, could not dissuade Keenie’s yearning to get back on the water. Using his inherent strength and a waterman’s determination, Cummings found a way to make that happen. “In the morning I would take dad out of the house in his wheelchair, hoist him up into the front seat of the truck, put the wheelchair in the back of the truck, unload the chair, get him back into it, wheel him down to the boat and then hoist him, wheelchair and all, on board—manually!” Cummings would haul in the oysters and his father would call them. “I wouldn’t take him out if the weather was bad, but that never went over too well. He didn’t speak to me for days!”
Despite the attempts made by Cummings’ parents to discourage their son from becoming a commercial fisherman, it was to no avail. He was destined for a life on the water. Onboard “his baby” the 42-foot Zaca (named for his wife’s favorite actor Errol Flynn’s schooner in the 1952 film, Cruise of the Zaca), the 25-year-old Cummings set his sights on the day’s catch to make a living.
But Cummings’s love for art was never lost. Throughout his years as a waterman, he began to realize that times were changing and “things from my life were passing me by.” This is what drove Cummings to learn everything he possibly could about art, so that he could record his own history through it. On one of his visits to the Smithsonian museums, he became fixated on a large painting by Rembrandt. “It took my breath away; it really did,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was amazed at its beauty and what it must have taken to create such a thing—how in the world did he do this?” That was the moment Cummings decided he was going to find out for himself.
Cummings began to immerse himself in books about anatomy, the Old Masters, color, values, design, and composition—anything pertaining to art. “In my spare time, I’d practice things like mixing colors, or learning how a piece of clothing should fall on a figure. Books were my lifeline to the art world. I read them cover to cover and tried to copy the Masters. The Impressionists were my favorites,” he said, fondly.
It was not until he was in his 40s that Cummings began to paint in earnest. Although he continued to fish, doctor’s orders led him to take a hiatus and he began to work as a bridge tender on Tilghman Bridge. “Dad’s first paintings were done from that bridge house,” Cummings’ daughter Tootie recalls. “Most of them were watercolors but his first one on canvas was in black and white. He got inspired from looking out the window at the scenery. I think that really put him on a path to taking this thing very seriously.”
Acrylics became Cummings’ medium of choice, although he continued to work in watercolor and dabbled a bit in pastel. “I started out working with oils but the smell of turpentine made my wife feel sick, so I switched to acrylics,” he explained. “But I managed to make them look like oil paintings by learning how to mix a varnish and applied it as a finish.”
At the time, Baltimore was the closest city to purchase art supplies. Knowing her husband was eager to start his first works on canvas, wife Jeanne offered to make the trip north and brought back the materials. Working out of his modest home studio any chance he got, Cummings began to paint his memories. He started each piece with multiple black and white drawings, followed by a preliminary watercolor sketch before tackling what would be the final painting. “Until I get things the way I want them, I’m not going to finish it,” Bill asserted. “The picture has to describe what I am trying to tell people.”
The chapters of Cummings’ life began to emerge as he painted a variety of subjects ranging from harvesting oysters on his beloved Zaca, to seine-hauling and pound-netting, or watermen telling tall tales after a long day on the water. With each work would be a story written by Cummings to accompany it.
In the painting entitled Last One in is a Rotten Egg, Cummings portrays the anticipation and sheer joy of racing to the end of Buzzard’s Lane to go skinny dipping after school. “We’d throw our clothes up on the trees before jumping in, so they didn’t get wet and try to be the first one over the bank,” Cummings said with a chuckle. “I’m the blond haired one with my arm up in the air.” (Interestingly, renowned American realist painter, Thomas Eakins (1844–1916), a favorite of Cummings, painted one of his finest studies of the nude in his piece entitled The Swimming Hole. The work is said to be the artist’s most successfully constructed outdoor picture, features Eakins’ friends, and includes a self-portrait. It would stand to reason that it had a strong influence on the outcome of Cummings’ piece.)
While viewing the delightful painting, Knucks Down Tight, we are reminded of the days when the children on Tilghman enjoyed shooting marbles after supper; a young Bill and his friend are portrayed listening intently to an older, more experienced fisherman about what it takes to mend a hole in a net in The Pupils, and in the painting called The Partners, the two buddies can be seen catching soft crabs at the shoreline.
Working on the water can bring both chaos and calm to the commercial fisherman and Cummings was able to portray both in his work. He had learned how to capture the essence of a scene with a strong composition and careful rendering. “It’s important to me that there is action in my paintings, and one of the most effective ways of achieving that is with the brush strokes I put down,” Cummings explained. Perhaps one of the best examples of this is found in the work entitled Out of Nowhere. The paint is boldly applied in different directions throughout the piece—even exaggerated—using short and long strokes of color that envelop the troubled skipjack as it weathers a turbulent storm.
Impressed by his talent, friend and accomplished artist Marc Castelli marvels at Cummings’ tenacity and dedication to his craft. Castelli, a recognized painter of all things water and boats, and Cummings developed a special friendship during his later years, sharing their passion for both art and working on the water. “There is a grace and beauty found in each subject,” Castelli says. “Bill and I could talk about both.” It was through their friendship that the work Remembering Bill, Remembering Fishing came to be. Cummings’ daughter approached Castelli with the idea of creating a painting based upon the sketch left on her father’s easel when he passed away. Honored, Castelli accepted.
Out of respect for Cummings, it was important to Castelli that he finish what Cummings had started—not interpret it. Differences in style, medium, technique, and how each artist approached their work were some of the challenges Castelli faced. “Painting is what both of us have lived and loved,” Castelli says. “I followed the map Bill left behind.”
Common themes can be seen throughout Cummings’ work as depicted in pieces such as The Oyster Harvesters, The Seine Haulers I, II and III, and The Pound Netters, where figures have been drawn with conviction and placed thoughtfully throughout each painting. At the same time, this artist had the ability to reflect the serenity and calm life that Tilghman offered in his loosely painted watercolors, whether it was a small flock of geese landing near the shore or workboats docked at Knapp’s Narrows on an overcast day.
Cummings painted more than just pretty pictures. He painted the heart and soul of Tilghman Island and the Chesapeake Bay region. There is integrity in his work, just like the man—steadfast, proud, and principled. He once simply stated, “My paintings are my history, and this is how I hope to preserve it.”
William E. Cummings passed away in September of 2014. His paintings are owned and cherished by many fellow watermen as well as private collectors. An active supporter of the Tilghman Watermen’s Museum, Cummings contributed the rights to produce and distribute prints of his works to the organization. There are currently more than 20 prints available on a limited-edition basis, including Remembering Bill, Remembering Fishing, signed by Marc Castelli with a remarque of Cummings’ sketch attached.
