No Tattoos… Scars, Maybe

Although my sister, real artist Melissa Lynch, asked, then insisted that I not apologize for or (maybe I’m adding this part) try to explain any works of art; I will… sorry, Melissa… maybe, as far as apologies go, I’ll just apologize that the image seems to be a little crooked. I had a tough time figuring out how to get the image from the printer to the computer, so… later on I’ll rescan.

realsurfersNotattoos 001

“What,” you might ask, “does this image have to do with surfing in general and real surfers in particular?” I would be forced to respond with, “Really?” And then I wouldn’t explain the connection(s).

Librarian and stealth wave usurper Keith Darrock told me the new “Surfer’s Journal” (available at the Port Townsend Library, has an article on tattoos. I haven’t seen the issue yet. I was planning on adding a surf-related tattoo to this drawing, and I still might, but… I, and I know this is a sort of semi-apologetic explanation, added some of the heavy vertical lines because I was concerned maybe there should have been a bit more shoulder, maybe… maybe the breasts weren’t quite right.

Let’s call it a sketch. Next time I’ll draw the surf-related tattoo first, then add the background

4 thoughts on “No Tattoos… Scars, Maybe

  1. Erwin, it really seems to be that you are still obsessed with that legendary woman surfer … that is, with having briefly glimpsed something (not her) in her van … that experience still lingering. This is no doubt the resulting imagining that would have eventually and surely emerged from your subconscious. No explanation required; and those of us who were reared watching B&W TV know the visuals that were once ‘state of the art’ when it came to expressing such reveries. Your artistic fantasy depicts the ‘day dream’ in, at once – still life, and yet not. In fact, the vertical edges imply those plastic ridged pseudo-holographs that once also would have have been ‘state of the art’ at given us a picture of this holocination that we might have held in our own hands – long before we could scan such artwork into a printer, distorted or not, to view files of things that we can no longer hold in our own hands.
    PS This is my second draft; obviously, the disease that defies your publications has seemed to attach its infection to my little comment box on the RealSurfer website. Perhaps my silly response has benefited from the rewrite.

  2. Beautifully put and ditto what Charlie said… (though I don’t know anything about the “van” incident, and maybe I shouldn’t since I’m your little sister… ahem). We may all improve by rewriting, redrawing, or re-catching that wave of inspiration… but sometimes the freshness of laying it on paper is the best, and at times the rework looks just like that, reworked… keep moving and drawing, writing, painting, and surfing, and don’t second guess your instincts, because they’re solid…

    PS. we’re both “real” for what it’s worth… You were my greatest inspiration growing up and I aspired to have the curve of line that seemed to come quite naturally from your pen… so please…

    • Thanks, Mr. Baker, for the analysis; there’s a lot of truth in there. And thanks to Melissa for the continued support. As for the woman in the van thing (this would be more for my sister), I think it’s a ‘maybe’ type of scenario rather than some actual story; though, and Keith and I were discussing this on the way to go surfing, more on the way back, the basis for obsessions, including surfing obsessions, might be that we had a glimpse of something wonderful, or a moment of wonder (and we included alcohol and other addictions in here, other people’s addictions), and, as we go through life, we try to replicate those moments. Some of us chase that weightless slide moment of surfing, somewhere between obsession and addiction.
      As for the at-least implied sexual connection; this may be true for some more than others. I can’t speak for others (though, obviously, I do try). As for the woman in the van, Trish, after reading the post and the comments, says the woman in the van in my life is her.

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