THE PRESENT IS A PRESENT

It's tough to stay in the iternal present when Thursday is the Portland premier of Thomas Campbell's brand new celluloid stoke-stroker The Present, with special opening performances by the Mattson 2. How often do you get to see surf flicks on the big screen anymore? I'm also loving the above poster that Portland artist-in-residence and resident handplane/alaia shredder Alberto Cuadros made for this event.

Your presence (get it?) is also requested at the Lifeswells afterparty, taking place at Valentine's at 10pm. Rumor has it the Mattson 2 will also bust out a few numbers there.

This whole evening promises to be a hoot. If there are too many rad people at the party and I can't get in for some reason, I'm gonna be pissed.

DEETS:

Thursday April 2nd

Two Showings: 7pm (All Ages) & 9pm (21+)

The Clinton St. Theater

2522 SE Clinton st PDX

&

Lifeswells/The Present After Party

Featuring the Mattson 2 and resident selector Zach Reno

Classic surf films (as always)

Thursday April 2nd 10pm

Free

Valentines

232 SW Ankeny, PDX

The G-Spot is Coming Again

The 4th Annual G-Spot Invitational Surf Contest is happening again this weekend. From the picture above (by Mark Mekenas), it looks like we should have done it today. The forecast for Saturday and Sunday is not too promising. But, as one of the contestants just reminded me, "Since when is this thing about good surf?"

...to which Gee, whose birthday the "contest" celebrates responded, "Or about good surfers, for that matter."

Past G-Spot recaps here, here, and here.

Hand Made

Dims: 1'7" x 10" x .25"
Custom fingerpaint/Crayola art by Nico and Chum.

Painting for the Mattson Family Benefit Art Show

Here's my finished painting for the Mattson Family Benefit Art Show. It's a sign you can hang on your door, your cubicle, or the wall of your treehouse when you go surfing. I've always liked those corny signs and bumper stickers that say "Gone Surfin," "Gone Fishin," "Gone Rollerblading," or whatever and I've done a few here and here for fun, which friends have turned into screensavers.

This piece is painted in acrylic on wood, with some paint pen details. I drilled a couple holes in the top and threaded rope through to hang it. It comes with a big nail. If you're interested in purchasing this, it'll be available at the upcoming silent auction, details to follow. The money is going to a great cause. Read more about that here.

For those who don't know who the Mattson 2 are, here's a video of them doing their thang:

Dad's Pad

My dad was thumbing through this Leroy Grannis photography book on my coffee table when he came across the picture above: A 1967 shot of his fraternity house on the strand in Hermosa Beach. Though he was living there at the time, he can't identify the dude out front. I've never been much for frats, I think I might be more inclined to pledge in the '60s at LMU, considering the fringe benefits above.

Hump Day

Wednesday seems like a long time ago now. Rye and I spent most of the day driving up the north coast in my jalopy until we decided on this beach break, which was pretty near its max-out point. That paddle-out was a grandmother, but when you finally made it outside, some nice humps were rolling through. Sets were averaging head high, but it's always hard to see the size without something for perspective: blow up the first pic and you can get an idea from the seagull. In the third picture above, there's a guy paddling out on the right side of the frame.

I got a few really nice ones then convinced Rye to paddle back out with me after taking a wave all the way in. He'd been struggling to punch through the middle and was catching his breath on a log. He didn't realize that the rip was working a little bit and you had to paddle almost all the way to the farthest boulder outside to be safe. Once we made it out the second time, he immediately spun for a set wave and caught it. He disappeared behind the shoulder only to emerge about a hundred yards up the beach. Not skunked after all!

Surfing good waves with just a friend and a sea lion is one of life's rare treats.

Now it's pissing rain and blowing hard. Doesn't look like surf will even be an option until the weekend (at least). Oregon. Winter. Welcome back.

SECRET STUDIO

It's hidden in my basement. A few new projects have inspired me to spend some time down here again. I've been working on a computer so long I almost forgot how good it feels to make a mistake and not be able to delete it.

THE NEXT BEST THING?

A lot of ink has been spilled about this addiction we have. Romanticizing, fantasizing, publicizing. The surfing section at Powell's (blow up the photo above) is a pretty good place to get a fix. The web does a good job keeping the stoke at full blaze, but there's really nothing like grabbing a book and reading about adventures -- fictional or non -- or mindsurfing perfect waves through the lenses of the world's great surf photogs.

The question is, what's the greatest surf story ever published?

Went Surfin'

Finally went surfing again yesterday after a couple weeks in drydock. Thankfully, the conditions were cooperative. It was offshore and overhead on the sets with pretty long lulls, but if you were patient, the cold wait paid off. I parked myself on a left (of course) and got a couple that walled up and gave me some really memorable rides. I had enough time to draw out the bottom turn longer on each wave, dragging my hand along the surface, then coming off the top where the lip was feathering and cut back to the bottom, closer and closer to the foamball. Repeat. Repeat.

It was a blast.

The water was colder than I've felt it in a while and the wind was icy. But as I metioned before, this has been the best winter for surf I've ever experienced.

*The "sign" above is a sketch for something I'm working on for the Mattson Family benefit show. See the link in the previous sentence for details. If you're an artist, I encourage you to donate some work to the show. My freelancing wife and I have dealt with incredible medical bills as a result of cancer treatment and I cannot imagine how hard it must be to have two people battling the disease and the costs of care at the same time. C'mon Obama, let's fix the health care system in this country so self-employed people unfortunate enough to get sick aren't faced with the double-whammy of financial destitution as the result of their bad luck.

I CAN'T GET THAT SOUND YOU MAKE OUT OF MY HEAD.

Nature writer T.H. Watkins perfectly describes "that sound" in a recollection of his childhood bodysurfing experiences near Dana Point in the late-1940s:

“The lip of the wave curved over my head, and for one brief instant I found myself in a long, green translucent tunnel that stretched 40 or 50 feet on either side of me. That moment was when I heard the Sound, a high, hollow, almost metallic keening that cut through the outside roar of the surf until it was all that could be heard. It seemed to come from a great distance, like a cry out of the ancestral night, then swept over me and moved on just as the wave seized my helpless body and plunged it through the water and into the sand… . When I finally surfaced I was certain I had been privileged to experience one of the essential mysteries… . I remain as convinced today as I was then that I had heard nothing less than the voice of the sea itself.”

(Excerpt taken from Saturday's LA Times front page article on a certain Pacific Northwest mysto slab that's been getting tons of ink lately.)

Love on the Rocks

Bouldery break.
Brand new Bonzer.
Broken leash.
Bummer.

Love On The Rocks - Neil Diamond

(Note: That was my friend's V-Day story. MY decision to surf on Valentine's day was even more of a heart-breaker.)

Flawless

Unspoiled by
Murky water
Onshore winds
Secondary swells
Or guys in neoprene
Bobbing on the surface.

Sunday, January 18, 2009
Images courtesy of G$

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

An amazing, surf-themed 1981 Rodney on the ROQ show captured in its entirety for your listening pleasure. Where else can you hear The Surfaris, The Waitresses and AC/DC all in one place (not to mention the awesome commercials)? Tons more at the great blog From the Garage. Click the cassette above to download.

Dawn Patrol

Oyster Waves

Kuma Sutra.
Kumamoto oysters.
Small, hollow, and sweet.
The trick is getting inside.
I'm still picking bits of shell from my teeth.

A flat tire on the way out gave us time to crack into the 24 oysters we bought in Tillamook. When we finally reached the beach, the waves looked choice. Shoulder-high negative-tide dredgers. It only lasted an hour or so until the tide filled in. On the way home we explored such topics as: teaching yoga to inmates, killing animals with your bare hands, karma, the new T.Moe movie, the new Animal Collective, art, and if it's possible to get a "happy ending" via reiki massage.

Santos SurfArt II

Top: The Surf Museum in Santos, Brazil. Bottom: My watercolors, alongside such great company as Joe Curren (left), Sandow Birk (top center), and Guilherme Tonelli (right).


I'm so honored to have participated in the Santos SurfArt show in Brazil this year. The photos on the website, curated by Jair Bortoleto, do a great job showing how awesome the event must've been, and also twist the dagger a little because I couldn't make it down there on a technicality (no visa).

But who knows? Maybe the show will happen again next year and I'll plan for it a little better -- or maybe it will travel to other exotic surf locations (Ed?)... What a great opportunity.

Thanks, Jair!

See Lion?

See, Nico? Sea Lions don't really look like surfers from down here...

My First Surfboard

Purchased of the used board rack in the mid-1980s. It came with all those stickers on it and I left them there, cuz I thought they were rad. I used to just look at it and dream about the waves I'd get. When I turned 16, my friend and I would drive to Brookings and Crescent City all the time to try and make those dreams a reality.

Things really haven't changed that much.

I Got Some Waves

The weekend before last was a wave-fest. Four days of surf in the 8-10 foot range at around 15 seconds with east winds. Friday was the biggest day, with crazy amounts of water flooding the cobblestones, making entry and exit (in the dark) the scariest part of the session. Rips were strong and hold-downs were long on Saturday, and the ocean reminded us who was boss on several occasions.

After hitting (almost) every spot on our quest for perfection, we finally cracked the code on Sunday and Monday, discovering that the place that most accommodated the pumping swell was the most obvious one - right where we started our search. Endless lefts and rights that held up when they looked like they might shut down, with plumes of mist blowing from the peaks. We surfed for nearly four hours a pop.

Throw in bluebird skies, a beach house with a hot-tub and wood stove, a stack of stoking surf movies, endless vittles and cold beer, and great friends old and new, and you have a recipe for and epic MLK holiday.

If this is winter, who needs spring?

Baracka Shakas

The first family knows how to throw some shakas. It's a good day to be a surfer in the USA.
Thanks, JP!