I just got to January of 2017 in posting most (not all) of my illustrations posted on realsurfers, starting at 2013, heading toward now. Maybe because I hit the last fourth of a century tomorrow, I thought I might put this back up. Although my own pen-and-ink drawing style was most inspired by work by RICK GRIFFIN, it has been more often compared to drawings by R. Crumb.
Yes, I was trying to break into the rarified company of NEW YORKER cartoonists. It didn’t work. Their loss. It took some some sleuthing to get an address, some nerve to make the request. I was an am pretty dang (could have said ‘fuckin”) stoked that I got a positive, and properly sardonic response.
Thanks, Robert Crumb.
“Yes, there’s “in” someone’s pocket, and “IN someone’s pocket.”
No, I don’t get it; hhoped the New Yorker snobs would. Their loss; oh, and perhaps this was my ‘green period’ of black and white pen and ink.
erwin@realsurfers.net
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If you’re planning on surfing, always plan on wailing!
All original illustrations and other original content protected by copyright, all rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr. Thanks!
EASY? Maybe. Sometimes summertime is busy; I have a lot going on. I’m sure you do, also. Part of my frustration is just trying to get some of my work (real job, painting contractor in the limited season in the Great Northwest) done. More work, less time… frustrating. Not haviing the tine to go into detail here, writing being one of my joys (surfing- yes and no, no time to go all the way to the coast.
Dru and I have been trying to take care of Trish during her sloooow recovery from the aftereffects of chemo and radiation. Trish has turned a corner; she’s getting stronger; less chemo fog; but she is still limited in mobility. She can’t be left alone for extended periods. And shouldn’t be.
While I’m trying to finish jobs, Dru is in the middle of the CONCERT season for the OLYMPIC MUSIC FESTIVAL. Not sure what her official title in running the non-music part of the non-profit is, but… Example- She worked until 11:30 PM last night, and had to be back in Port Townsend by 7:50 AM to open the WHEELER THEATRE at FORT WORDEN for the piano tuner. Concert this afternoon. Paper work until… Same schedule tomorrow.
Some of the musical activities take place at ARCADIA, just out of town. This is one of few remaining serigraphs I did of the venue, back in the late 1980s. I found it and some other prints in the attic a few years ago. I’m posting it here so Dru can show… whoever.
I have to go. Hope you’re surfing, hanging, bobbing in the water; enjoying summer.
I will update from the tablet. Later. Oh, and it’s my birthday on Monday. 40th anniversary of turning 35.
SATURDAY UPDATE: Not all writers and/or artists are anal retentive. Some might be the opposite (anal explosive, I’ve been told- kind of believe it). And while I’m thinking about it, the opposite of PHALLIC symbolism in art and architecture and billionaires’ private spacecraft; and I have noticed this in art and in “Lord of the Rings,” is, I’m informed, by various sources on the internet, YONIC. References the womb. I didn’t get too investigative. Okay, but, years ago, an artist whose work was totally not phallic, told me it was VAGINAL. All this time, I was fine with that.
All that aside, my stuff, particularly on PAGE III, Serious Writing, is mostly written on-site rather than on Microsoft Word, and even if it originally was, I can’t help going back over it, refining, editing. YES, this explains something about my novel, “SWAMIS,” the anal retentive part being how difficult it is to delete something that I believe is kind of decent.
I have a new piece, part of my occasional dream diaries, and I’ve made changes to two pieces on PAGE III: “Between the Walls of Trees,” a short short story, and “Into the Void,” a poem/song. Since I’m stuck on differences, I usually develop songs while driving; repeating one verse, adding others in. Because of this process, I remember the words better than something I write on the computer. BUT THEN, I want the piece to make sense and have a certain flow. Retentive.
Update complete for now.
SEVERAL FRIENDS hepped me to this; it’s a screen grab from this guy, R. Jesus Delacruz (translates to ‘of the cruz’), evidently talking some shit about Port Townsend folks. Not that I don’t. Nothing too serious from me. But, yes, folks selling a mid-priced hone in CA and buying a McMansion here is kind of erksome.
Not sure if he focused on me, or if I was just part of a pan, left or right, but…this was taken at the SAVE THE WAVES event in which a short film, “ERWIN” (available for viewing on the ‘about’ page), was being aired as part of a worldwide tour.
Doesn’t mean I am not from California. I AM A REFUGEE. Of sorts. Sold a house in San Diego in 1978, moved to Quilcene. Two of my three children were born in Port Townsend. Not sure when or where Mr. Delacruz was born, and don’t care.
ALSO, while trying to shed any vestiges of my California-ness, I’m not trying to get him more coverage.
Got to go. Work to do in Port Townsend for folks who are from somewhere else, but not from California. No, no; again; don’t care.
erwin@realsurfers.net
Occasionally I post on Instagram. More often I comment on other people’s posts. Can’t help it. Need counseling. It’s just… putting emojis isn’t, like, much more meaningful than hitting the heart symbol. It’s realsurfersdotnet.
Great weekend for hanging on the beach, any beach, trying to will a swell. Good luck, and thanks for checking out my humbled blog.
I have been too busy to do work on my latest (theoretically/optimisticly finished) rewrite of my novel. OR it has been low on my priority list. HOWEVER AND ALWAYS, thoughts about it pop up. This needs more, this less. One thought that recurs is that my first chapter is, possibly, too cool. I claim to hate cuteness and too-cuteness; but there it is. Dialogue without stage direction I insist is enough.
SO, I may cut it out entirely. NO, NO, not that; I will move it to CHAPTER IV as an alternative.
Check it out. Thanks. Is today, or is every day INTERNATIONAL SURFING DAY?
I have some new stuff on PAGE VII, ‘”Erwin Talks to Strangers,” and on PAGE VIII, “Love Songs for Cynics.” I’m doing this as a new post, but will probably move these drawings to Page VIII later.
If I stop writing new material and re-re-re-editing older pieces, I have enough for a book. I need to look through my collection (not that there’s any real organization) of illustrations to find work that goes along with the songs and essays and… And, problem is so much is surf related and/or landscape rather than portrait, format-wise.
MEANWHILE, I ENJOY doing these border things and… I enjoy drawing. YEAH.
AND, more meanwhile, life continues to provide more material. Jeez, an annoying splotch on my. scanner. That isn’t a metaphor. No, ‘course it is. Get some surf. Keep your secret spots secret. Thanks for checking out my site.
The photographer, abovve, some of her work, below.
I am writing something about how addictive INSTAGRAM is, but, while scrolling (and, can’t help it), and (occasionally) commenting, I came across some incredible photographs of the open ocean; the chaos and the power and the beauty, taken by Rachael Talibart. I HAD to comment. The first comment on a collection of black and white images, which I self-borrowed from a possibly edited-out quote from Ruth DeFreines in my novel, “SWAMIS,” (note the self promotion here- not there) was, “Our minds fill in the colors.” It got a like/heart (part of the addictiveness).
I, of course, had already hit ‘Follow,’ so I got more posts from @rachaeltalibart. I sent a comment saying I would love to include some of her work on my HUMBLE (not by design) blog, and she ‘replied’ it was fine if I include a working link to her website.
This linking is tough for me. I will get my daughter, Dru, to assist.
What interests me is figuring out what kind of person chases storms to capture the previously mentioned power and chaos and beauty, the source of what surfers seek, groomed-out and organized, of course. NOT a lot of bio stuff readily available. Rachael lives in the south of England, gets seasick, and takes on extreme weather so folks can look at the images (she has a book, “Sirens) in comfort, perhaps with one of them as a sort of window, framed and hanging in a formal room.
Anyway, thank you, Rachael. Heart/like.
Meanwhile, I’m getting my works together and planning on having Dru help with the formatting, pre-publishing stuff for my upcoming (I promise) collection, “Love Songs for Cynics.”
I do have some newly added Original Erwin additions on my other pages (nothing on the political or religious front at the moment), so check that out if you get a chance. Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net, Instagram- realsurfersdotnet. AND thanks, as always, for spending. a little time at my humble (not by design) site. GET SOME WAVES!
Tuesday, June 30- TRISH IS CANCER FREE! She saw the Oncologist yesterday. The numbers are all good. Thank one and all for your concern, prayers. SHE IS NOT OUT OF THE WOODS AND BACK ON THE BEACH YET. Progress is being made. Trish is trying to regain lost strength. I have a new appreciation for the hardships endured by those stricken by cancer. As always, FUCK CANCER!
ALSO, there is a new post on. PAGE VII, ERWIN TALKS TO STRANGERS. Check it out.
– PAGE VI, Original Erwin art, as of Saturday, June 27, is up to all of 2015. Give it a scroll if you get the chance.
…some stuff on what I devised for the mural project at Port Townsend’s Seamus Skate Park, an upcoming Original Erwin Coloring Book, an upcoming album of poetry and essays and blues songs, “Love Songs for Cynics,” and a possible start for a poster for the next Occasional Surf Culture on the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Salish Sea Event. AND, promising not to whine because I was not selected for the top three contestants/applicants for the Skate Park Project.
PEOPLE often stop in Port Gamble, close to where my daughter Dru (and Trish, still recovering from Cancer and Chemo) lives. The sunsets tend to be spectacular; often with that orange popsicle color. In Quilcene, the Eastern foothills of the Olympics dominate the view; that and all the trees.
SKATE PARK- I did get all jazzed up at the prospect of making big money for artistic… stuff; and got into doing some sketches. I did wait until the finalists were announced (whimper) before posting any.
I thought it would bee dramatic to have an action image on an inside corner of the low walls. I wasn’t sure how this would work, so I did a sketch, and bent it. Okay, that’s how it would work!
ORIGINAL ERWIN COLORING BOOK-
I am going through and placing artworks on a separate page. I have completed 2013, the first year of realsurfersnet, and 2014. I plan on selecting images and producing another limited edition. Soon.
“LOVE SONGS FOR CYNICS”-
My current plan is to have something that mimics a record album. I am in the process of formatting, all with an increasing awareness of the expense involved in getting an actual book together. For all the projects I have done in the past, including ORIGINAL ERWIN T SHIRTS, the artist got screwed and the publisher/manufacturer/whatever made (some) money. NOTE- Exclusivity has value. Hopefully.
SURF MUSIC AND…
If you are an actual musician, you know this isn’t actual music.
THANKS FOR CHECKING OUT my humble blog. Side note: I was kind of called out for ‘going political.’ Sorry. Couldn’t help it. I have a bit of a platform, I have fears and opinions, and, for now, freedom of speech. And you are free to not read… anything.
HIT some waves when you get the chance!
OH, and all original works by Erwin A. Dence, Jr. are copyright protected, all rights reserved. AND, no AI involved. Thanks.
I was working in Port Angeles all week, never had (or gave myself) a chance to even check out the surf; but, then, wait for it (I have), I went. Yeah, I joined the seeming caravan of time-offers and weekenders and vacationers headed toward the Olympic Peninsula, home to the Olympic Mountains, named, appropriately, after the mythical home of the mythical gods. It’s like… Nirvana, with a different lineup (do I have to add ‘not the bend? Probably). Yeah, and there’s, like forests and… lakes, and… It is enticing, entrancing, inviting those stuck on I-5 to drive however many hours to get here. And the weather has just been so… Southern California-ISH. Not that I’m complaining.
This was a side project. I was painting an ADU on the Port Angeles property. Someone else cut out the trees a while back. The homeowner, who has a lot off artsy stuff going on, gave me free reign. Thanks.
The job done, I traded ladders for a thrashed out board, and headed back north. It’s not that I want to share the road OR the waves. Dawn patrolling might help. Still, I worry. I am still trying to get past a severe thrashing from mid-winter, and have had few opportunities to rebuild my. confidence. What if, I was thinking on the way up Surf Route 101, it’s closed out and crowded and… ?And then, when I arrived… no worries; no ‘got to go NOW’ conditions. Barely breaking. It was a ‘it might get better’ situation, so, normal. Not crowded… yet. No side wind. Yet. I took my time, chatted with PA locals, Bill Truckenmueller (sp?) and his son, who talked about how the day before was better, and never got out of their van, and told me they were leaving as a sacrifice to the swell gods. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what you missed next time I see you.”
Parked in my favorite spot was THOR. I’ve surfed with him quite a few over the years. He said the previous day started similarly weak and inconsistent, and got better. The last time I saw Thor was at the Lower Elwha gas station. He had just suffered a serious injury. He’s fully recovered now. I filled him in on what is happening with me. I did, because I do, mention this blog. “You. mean your personal complaint department?” ‘Huh? What? Um, yeah.”
Still taking my sweet time getting suited up, a rig pulled up next to me, two young (relatively) men jumped out, instantly started putting fins on their fancy wood boards. Just making conversation, because ERWIN TALKS TO STRANGERS, I mentioned their parking gave themselves plenty of room, but they could have parked closer, allowing the next folks room. “No.” Okay. No disagreeing. I asked one of them how long he’d been surfing. “A while.” “Oh. Did you, like, start during Covid?” “Give me a break.” “Okay, so… adult learner. Surf school.” No answer. “It’s pretty flat. Hobuck’s probably big. Maybe you should go there.” The other guy came around the corner, turning his Patagonia wetsuit rightsideout while doing modified squats. “Why don’t you go, then?” “Too far. Too scary.” “Sure.” Possible sarcasm. “Um, where’d you, if I might ask, come from?” No answer. “I live in Quilcene. It’s down the canal.” “Okay. Sure.” Somewhere it was revealed they were from Kirkland. “Might be bigger there,” one of the Kirkland dudes said before he raced his friend toward the water.
It’s fine that, when flipping friendly-ish shit, some gets flipped back. The test of surfing is in the water. By the time I got out, there were five or six other surfers out. Long boards. I took off on a wave, not believing (or looking) behind me. “Hey!” A guy on a green longboard, who wasn’t on the wave, yelled, “You have to look. That’s it! You get. one. drop-in!” He paddled out. I paddled out. He back paddled me. Evidently backpaddling was acceptable. Fine. Game on!
I don’t mean to overdramatize this; not high tension. Just, with not-great waves, kind of unnecessary.
There were some other ‘your wave, my wave’ things happening over the course of the session, but I didn’t have any other disputes with the unofficial regulator. He did continue to backpaddle, I played my game, managed to get some rides I was really happy with. Meanwhile, the Kirkland guys did not dominate. The lineup had the usual small day ratio of beginners to experienced surfers, and I noticed several of the guys in the water looked… similar. We all want to identify who, in the water, is going to blow a takeofff, who is a bit too aggressive; all of which helps us catch more waves and stay out of trouble. Maybe. Plus, it’s not cool to stare at your. competition. Or talk too much.
None of these societal restraints kept me from paddling over and making a comment to the large (not that I’m small) woman with a bright red, full-brimmed hat on. It seemed, not staring, that it was attached to a hood. Maybe it just had a very practical chin strap. “You’re doing your best to avoid cancer,” I said. “I’m trying.” She took off on a wave, went straight, and two other women, with similar hats, about to paddle out, hooted, wildly, as if their friend had won the contest. Perhaps she had. We are all competing in our minds. Aren’t we?
I managed to outlast the green board enforcer, but he did paddle out next to Thor, and, possibly because Thor was, my assessment, the best surfer out at this time, engaged him in conversation. I mentioned that when the waves dropped back to minimal as the tide drained out. “Yeah, I told him you’re old, you have really bad knees, your wife is battling cancer, and you should give you a break.” “Thanks, Thor, but… about those two times you burned me…” “Oh, one was for the guy you burned, and the other… It was my one free burn.” Fair. Enough.
I had to take this photo. The guy sat there a while, looking like Rodin’s “The Thinker.” I asked if he was thinbking, “Damn, should have gotten here earlier.” “No, I was thinking… maybe it’ll get better.” Eventually. Yes.
Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net
Instagram- realsurfersdotnet
Thanks; catch some waves when you can, limit your dropins, backpaddle at will, keep it friendly, keep it fun. But, FUCK CANCER!
Oh, shit! I forgot. I do have some new ORIGINAL ERWIN illustrations. I will post them soon.
…traffic. Now, I love the vview from the Hood Canal Bridge as much as anyone, and, though I am grateful I no longer commute regularly to the other side, I may have a bit o an issue when, trying to get back, I am 13th in line for a bridge closure to allow a sailboat to get back to the north side. And then, under power, the sightseer takes his or her sweet time getting through the opening (Yeah, for tourists, the floating bridge is open when it’s closed and closed when it’s open).
Meanwhile, cars and busses and Walmart semis and Amazon delivery vans and tourists and I are waiting. I shut the engine off (many didn’t), called Trish, and said I really wanted to get close enough to yell at the sailer, not that I, even with my lost at sea. voice, could. “No, no, don’t do that!”
Okay, but, maybe, there should be a… dealie; like, if you’re enoying the splendors of the wilder lower canal (for tourists, it isn’t a canal; there’s an end. Waterway cul-de-sac), you should stay until… I don’t know, not Monday morning when workers need to get to jobs.
I guess one brighter side is that I was on the bridge, and not stuck behind a tour bus-sized motorhome pulling a Mad Max rig, that rig holding the electric bikes and Kayaks, and, worse, surfboards. I was packing ladders, so… that might make me a tiny bit jealous. Maybe.
Meanwhile, I finally posted a Dylan 85th birthday video I filmed a couple of weeks ago. Find it on the gram at realsurfersdotnet. Like, comment, follow. Not mandatory. I’ve spent too much time scrolling and commenting; sniping and attempting cleverness. It’s not (for tourists) real life.
Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net
“SWAMIS” note- I keep thinking about subtle changes to my otherwise done novel. Because I am also trying to keep a bit of a journal on some dreams, I went to sleep in that ‘one more hour’ portion of the night/dawn considering the real life location in which I have fictional character Julie Cole living. It is across Highway 101 and the railroad tracks, up the hill, and offers a view of the entrance to the Swamis parking lot and a chance to see swells approaching. In 1969, the time in which the story is set, there was still a pullout adjacent to the park. Houses now.
In this dream, I am on that hill. I see waves, surfers. I tell Trish I have to go. Now. Now! I’m running down through the scrub brush, onto the gravel, across the tracks, and… I did warn you that it was a dream. I mean, me, running.
In real life, the last time I surfed Pipes, I did park up and above the tracks. I didn’t run.
NOTE- Dreaming about surfing is not a replacement for surfing. Following every real surfer on Instagram, also not a replacement. Still… part of surfing is imagining oneself… surfing. The harder part is getting there, getting out, getting in position, paddling… That.
Thanks for checking out realsurfers. If you can’t be perfect, be real.
I included these as part of my resume’, that part of my submission for the mural project at the Seamus Skate Park in Port Townsend. It’s, top to bottom: Original sign on 101 originally done as a (winning) entry in a post card contest at the Quilcene Village Store; rainbow on. gable of house on San Juan in Port Townsend; stripes and lettering in Quilcene gymnasium; surfboard and panel in Joel Carben’s collection; fence at PT’s Memorial Field; repaint of mural on Peninsula Foods; original. mural on. the Quilcene. Historical Museum.
Restricted in the number of images, this was the entire portfolio, with, of course, stories.
I did write some stuff, because having a connection to the skater community seemed to be part of what the deciders were looking for, revealing my last century street/skate cred. Skateboarding, for a kid twenty miles from Oceanside Pier, slaloming down the hills of Fallbrook, was so much a part of my surfing that… Yeah, I’ll get back to you on that, including my experience, in my twenties, living in Pacific Beach, San Diego, with the resurgence of skateboarding.
MEANWHILE, I’ve added another page to cover stories and dreams I really enjoy writing about. Check it out. I keep talking to strangers, keep dreaming, so… more stories.
Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net
InstaGram- realsurfersdotnet
Trish Update- Slow recovery, stronger everyday. If she has some chemo fog, so do I. Fuck Cancer!
Thanks for checking out realsurfers.net, see. you out on Surf Route 101!
Real Surfers 