Read this Wildlife Art Journal article

Any artist might logically ask herself: How far is she willing to go to submerse herself completely in the elemental forces of subject matter?

In the Gulf of Mexico a dozen miles off the coast of Corpus Christi, Texas, Tina Close plunges alone into open sea; aqua infinity swallowing her whole.

Tethered by rope to the back of a fishing boat, she bobs.

Soon, a line of large dorsal fins pierces the surface. Watching them circle and, seeking to establish contact, Close agrees to become bait.

Her friend and ship captain, the Swedish-American sculptor Kent Ullberg, begins to troll slowly through the subtropical current, dragging Close and using her to chum a skittish dolphin pod closer for a look.

The tactic pays off.

"One thing you must realize about wild dolphins is that they are enormously curious and intelligent creatures," Ullberg says, "though I must say not nearly as curious or intelligent as Tina Close."

In their fellow unclad mammal, the dolphins sense a vibe that is neither fear nor human bravado. Splashing at arm's length, they indulge Close as she studies them, and then, just as quickly, they dip below into darkness and are gone.

Reflecting blithely afterward, Close says: "Our strategy worked well to lure them nearer, but I damned near drowned because Kent didn't slow the boat down!"

Today, that same Gulf of Mexico is coping with the greatest human-caused natural disaster since the dawn...