Hydrosexual Stephen Davis On His Way Back UP

Evidently spring is finally coming closer. After driving through some snow, surfing in a squall, changing back into street clothes (socks are surprisingly difficult to put on frozen feet) in another round of sleet, driving back through rounds of sun, rain, more sleet, more sun… yeah, another surf trip in the great Pacific Northwest.

I’m not sure how long it took Stephen to get from lowest Baja to San Diego; almost long enough to get over getting sick from surfing in storm-runoff. But, with people lined up to stay with along the way, it’s taken one day from San Diego to Huntington, one day more to Rincon and beyond…

Here’s a shot of Rincon, the note saying (only) “Rincon with 4 out.” I sent a reply. “Did you go out?” I would have gone out, even if there were, I don’t know, 8 people out.

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Oh, I’m sorry… maybe it’s Rincon.

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A Few New Realsurfer Illustrations- UPDATED

Here’s the new drawing for the header. It was inspired by another awesome photograph I received from Stephen Davis; yeah, the lover of all things water, who, incidentally, is headed back to the Northwest after a long stretch and many adventures south of the wall. I’m sort of anticipating some stories (having had a brief preview on the phone yesterday, Steve in San Diego, me hoping the weather would stay warm enough to paint a bit longer; Steve evidently unable to hear me, answering questions he thought I might be asking. “Yeah, it’s a drainer, you have to dodge rocks; there’s sea urchins; surfers have had brain damage.” “Wha??”

The drawing, which I had reduced at The Printery, evidently not enough to get the whole thing on the header, partially because the line version doesn’t show up well. Here, then, is the full width version:

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Okay, here’s my other recent surf drawing (I do sometimes draw non-surf stuff). I’m considering redrawing it. I’m pretty happy except (and this has happened before) I’m not so stoked on the surfer’s overall look. Maybe, then…

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Maybe I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here; probably should stretch these out. Crappy weather has given me more of an opportunity to draw, something I won’t have once painting season gets here. Here:

 

So, okay; I see a few too many scanner marks. Errrr. My scanner/computer connection is quite aggravating. Won’t line up straight. About a third of the scans fail and have to be redone; I’m getting so many scans on my computer I have to scroll down for each new entry. Probably stuff computer literate people have figured out. This is sort of a random mosaic pattern created by my page dealeobopper. I’ll go back and post larger versions.

Yeah, the surfer in the color version is actually too green in real life also.

Part IV- Hydrosexual Stephen Davis Still (not down) Down In Mexico

I’ve been signed up for the Facebook thing for a while, but haven’t really used it. It seems, however, the best way to keep up with my currently far-flung friends, Archie Endo and Stephen Davis, is by navigating/scrolling/checking, and, probably to save some time, missing a few heartfelt/heart-rending/humorous/political/other postings, ‘liking’ any (and all) by my wife, maybe commenting if I just can’t resist (OH, and happy birthday to my youngest child, Sean, who posts under at least two pseudo-names;  by typing in their names. Again, since this sentence was so long, Archie Endo and Stephen Davis (no, not the preacher from the south or the teacher from the northeast).

Archie, to update you who are not up to date, is still in Bangkok, Thailand, though out of the hospital; going there daily for rehab; and may be coming back to the Pacific Northwest in the next couple of months. He says the effects of his stroke may decrease his ability to surf, particularly in our cold water.

First, Archie, this handicap may make him and I more even in our ability to surf. Second… Well, how about Mexico?

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This is Mexico. It may or may not be Stephen. Okay, it’s a photo taken BY Stephen Davis OF Matt Stokes, obviously FROM the water. I’m positive Stephen found his way into similarly desirable tube positioning. Desirable/enviable.

OKAY, so Stephen won’t tell me exactly where he is, but he has been down there long enough that my jealousy level has almost gone up to resentment. He has sent/posted a few photos. I keep writing to tell him I’m going to take some of these images and post them on this site, all the while encouraging Steve to write down some of the tales he’s, no doubt, living.

How do I know adventures are happening to and with Stephen, down there with the gringo pirates and painters and plunderers and (now I’m guessing) punk-ass dealers and two-and/or-four-wheelers? I know because Steve attracts adventure.  Or maybe adventure is attracted to him. I’ve told him from the first time we met, and I’ll tell you; Stephen is like a real life and modern day “Candide” (maybe you’re more familiar with the updated version, “Candy”); he approaches life with a sort of innocence, that filtered through his own particular set of neuroses (I think that’s the plural form- and his are different enough from mine that we can comment on them not that this lessens them for either of us, but it might help). We’ll get the stories, eventually; but for now, keep living it. We’ll discuss it all later. I can wait.

In case I have to say it: Stephen is one of my favorite people; and I’m not trying to be negative at all. What he is is real.

“Surf Free- Parking $5.00” illustration

I have tried quite diligently, over the years, to not pay to surf. Particularly, I have walked some distance to avoid paying to park. Access. It’s all about the access. Right. I get that. There always is a price. Right. I get that, also. I no longer work across some railroad tracks from the bluff just south of Oceanside Pier. I no longer live kiddy-cornered from the road down to Tourmaline. I can no longer use my bike to cruise down to Crystal Pier.

image-158 Okay, so I’ve tried to keep the price down. If I’m lucky enough to be working close to where some waves are breaking… write off; stick my board in my work van. If I can get someone else to ride along… sure, you know the options. Cruise around in the Northwest with five or six sticks on top of your rig, even four, and… yeah, someone’s going to flip you off. It might be me, though I do enjoy the ride sharing- always some good stories exchanged, and, the destination probably is some remote and uncrowded setup. But…

There’s a whole sort of backlash, not new, but increasingly noticeable as surfing becomes increasingly popular in the cold north, social media spreads the word on semi-secret spots far too quickly and far too far, and surf forecasting gets better and better.  Post a photo; even take a photo; call a friend from the beach; share some readings that worked for you; gloat about how awesome a particular spot was on a certain tide…

One can expect to get some glares, maybe the ‘stink-eye’, for showing up on a beach without a good reason for being there. “No, no, nobody called me. Internet? Well… No; I won’t tell. Instagram? No. Hey, it was an accident I even found this place (parked on an unnamed logging road, walked a mile and an half, climbed down a cliff- all accidental) at all. But, man; it’s just so epic-ly awe… good? Crappy? I’m getting skunked? Okay, then. I get it.”

What sort of evens the whole thing out is the skunk factor. I’ve headed for Westport (not a secret spot), no wind to mess it up. By the time I got to the bridges… south wind, howling. The coast is often messy, as likely to be too big and out of control as rideable. AND there are no guarantees that the buoy readings that brought good conditions in the past will be repeated, and windows close very quickly.

Obviously off-subject. So, one short winter day, when gas was well over $3/gallon, I cruised out in my Subaru (28 miles/gallon), and only managed to catch four waves before it got too dark. I did the math. Not sure, but I think it came to $4/wave.  My friend Ray Hicks, down in California, parking outside the fence to surf Pipes (not anywhere near a secret spot), asked how the rides were. “Great.” “Worth it.” “Yeah.”

Of course, mostly I decrease my cost/wave by catching more waves. This might not make one popular if there’s a crowd of folks who loaded up pre-dawn, caught an early ferry, only stopped once for coffee/pee break, and, just as predicted, found some waves.

INCIDENTALLY- My friend, Hydrosexual Stephen Davis, STILL down in Mexico, will not tell me where the hell he is. It’s not like I can just get down there, though, if I could, I would. AND, if he did tell me… hey, new rules; I couldn’t tell you. No, really. Please, stop asking. NOOO!

 

Yeah; new rules. BUT, the factor that evens

Cartoons, Coloring Book Drawings, Tattoos, Renderings…

…and kind of thinking if concentrating on doing surfing illustrations with using them in a coloring book has been helpful to my long term artistic goals. It has made me think of trying to show more with simpler lines, but… yeah, but, but I just always want to get better, closer to the feelings as well as the images.

"Water Seeks Its Own Level" I thought I'd post this before I go back and add more to it. I love simplicity; love wild, swooping lines; I just don't seem to stop soon enough often enough.

“Water Seeks Its Own Level” I thought I’d post this before I go back and add more to it. I love simplicity; love wild, swooping lines; I just don’t seem to stop soon enough often enough.

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This was the third attempt. Draw one; the expression on the surfer’s face is wrong, head’s too big. Use that to get to the second. Too messy, perhaps. This one… maybe the face is too cartoonish. AND, I know, got too carried away with the lines. Really, in most surfing images, photos or illustrations, especially if the surfer is wearing a wetsuit; it’s a lot of black. It is risky to try to show expressions; and (sorry for the self evaluation/critique), on drawings where the expression seemed right, the rest kind of followed.

Here are a couple of other recent, non-surf-centric illustrations:

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I’m not sure why the second one seems off-kilter. I’m blaming the scanner. Again, it’s the expression first, rendering second.

MEANWHILE: Trying to keep from naming surf spots; but reaffirming that there is never any surf on the Strait of Juan de Fuca; I did go surfing quite recently with Adam Wipeout, Cameron, Adam’s dog, Victor, somewhere on the wild Pacific Ocean coastline in Washington, just ahead of more incoming snow.

BECAUSE Camo is six feet four with long legs, he got to ride shotgun in the ‘should be stealthy, but with four boards (two for Adam, just in case) on top, non-descript Toyota’ while I, with short legs but a quite long torso, got to ride in the back with the over-active dog. Now, part of Adam’s deal with his wife, Andrea, is that, evidently, if he gets to go surfing on a Sunday, he either takes their two overactive boys, Emmett and Boomer, or the aforementioned dog. AND Victor seemed to resent both me, taking up less than half of the available space, and the paddle that split the space. AND it’s a long haul there and back; speed reduced by the off-and-on icy, and almost all winding roads.

AND, when we got to the ocean, there were choices; not between almost great and great waves, but between junky and less-junky. AND it was cold. 37 degrees, with a colder wind possibly ready to get even colder. I must admit I waited a while, looking for… geez, what are we always looking for?  WHILE I was shivering, watching, four surfers came running down the beach, headed out right where Camo and Adam were getting a few decent beachbreakers. Bear in mind, there were no other surfers out anywhere. AND, one of the surfers had a GoPro in his mouth, just sure he’d be getting barrelled.

SO, I went out, found a few fun ones, cranked a few turns, connections, got bumped off on a tuck-in, got caught inside way too many times, traded off peaks (the wind did shift, and it got better) with Adam. EVIDENTLY, when we were pulling through Port Angeles, someone flipped us off. Really, they flipped Adam off. “So,” I asked Adam while we were waiting at a Mexican Restaurant, “don’t you flip off cars with four boards on top? I do, sometimes, I admitted, if it’s only an under-the-dashboard flip-off.

AND, incidentally, there were PA locals at the restaurant, possibly, almost certainly, surfers, but, on this day, they’d been hitting the local slopes (not sure if this is a secret spot or not). You can tell; they kept their passes hanging on their outfits. Outfits. “It was just too good to pass up,” one of them told Adam. Other than the car with the dog hanging out a window and the four boards on top, there was little proof that we’d been ripping up the ocean waves. Maybe if I’d had a GoPro in my mouth…

So, sorry to get too involved in the story. Hopefully I didn’t reveal too much secret information. Again, remember there’s always something breaking on the coast, never anything on the Strait.

Something on Diamonds and Dust

I have some new drawings, and, as always, trying to catch the light, the glitter and the shine, and not quite fast enough. And, my recent drawings are too large to scan on my equipment, and the copier that would work, last time I trekked to Port Townsend, was broken.

Wanting to post something I wrote for the memorial for my father, I googled (or, more accurately, yahooed) glittery surf images, looking for the diamonds. All right, I decided to use google; way more images. These aren’t exactly what I had in mind, and I’d love to give credit to the photographers- obviously I give them high praise, but it would be great to  mention those who captured the light so stunningly (if the one is ‘enhanced’ a bit; great job on that).

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We are all, some believe, made of stardust;
The earth containing a finite amount of matter;
Matter that is, on some level, not destroyed, not lost, but reformed.

Does this help when we have lost someone?
When we are grieving?
When those close to us pass on, when the spirit quits the body, gives up the body,
Some believe,
That spirit carries a bit of us with it;
And, then, it seems, logically, we keep a bit of that person’s spirit;
Memories we can bring back,
Images,
Some almost-tangible bit of hope as we grieve,
Some remembered wisdom,
Some deed, some moment of love or kindness or strength
We can bring back into focus,
Some bit of stardust.

That was it. I had some concern the piece might make some of my siblings uncomfortable, maybe perceived as a bit of a push on or against some religious belief.  My youngest sister, Melissa, put the program for our Dad’s memorial together, brought it with her from Illinois.  Great job. People who knew our dad from his last thirty-plus years down in Chinook seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Maybe they were remembering that twinkle, sparkle, bit of glitter in his eyes. Diamonds.