Stuck in the Suck… One Rib Too Far

It’s not, really, that the waves were all that dangerous or scary; it’s just that they were breaking too close to the beach.

Beach break.  Shore break.

I can’t say I’m not spoiled by reef and point breaks, waves that seem a bit more, um, polite, reasonable, more consistent.  On the Olympic Peninsula, the prevailing condition being flat or flat with winds blowing so frequently (and often briskly, gales from south to east to north to west, sometimes in one day) against any swell direction that might bring some sign of swell to the Strait, and even with buoy readings that suggest, almost guarantee rideable waves, the prevailing condition can win.

SKUNKED.

What is worse, figuring I’d figured it correctly, that I just might score, seeing even the super weak wavelets coming out of the dark and (despite the forecast) wind-torn deeper water, die among (as opposed to lined-up bombs sliding over) the rocks of a reef; a dark squall bringing a downpour; I discovered I might have been almost the only one dumb enough to believe the odds and the gods favored surf.

WAITING. Maybe it’s the tide; maybe it’s just…. a 47 (or so) minute nap, the downpour now the heaviest sort of drizzle, the windows now as fogged inside as they are wet outside; wet; that kind of wetness where they’re just covered in vertical rows of tiny drops, hanging there; one drop in each row gaining enough weight to fall down onto the next; but, and I would have awakened, no one else has even pulled in to see if there are waves.

So then one, meaning me, feels dumb for even trying.

BRIEF INTERMISSION- Here’s the negative, black light ready, version of the Soul Rebel illustration:

Scan_20191205

OKAY.  There might be some options.  This is how I ended up hiking to a spot that offered three foot plus waves, still not clean, not friendly, ribs in the swell caused by sidewinds; breaking along (more like on) a steep beach where, eight feet from shore, the water’s eight feet deep.  Overhead.

SO, yeah; look for a corner, take off, drive hard, pull out before it all crashes.  There’s no channel to ease into.  There are sections, sort of separated by those sideways ribs.  A bigger wave should break farther off the shelf that is the shore.  Two successful-if-short rides are followed by one on which I went a rib too far.  Oops.

Stuck in the Suck, I was down in the trench, my board skittering up the beach with each wave, each wave rag-dolling me as I attempted to crawl up and onto the shelf.

OKAY, now I’m determined.  Drop, turn, burn, pullout. Repeat.  Not super thrilling.  BUT THEN, again, going for another section, an extra little chunk of water… Suck, stuck, rag-doll, crawl, try again.  After somewhere around fifteen waves, having ridden one three ribs and a ways down the beach, I got out without suffering a third knockdown. Enough.

FUN.  So, here’s my takeaway, based, largely on something I learned in Psychology 101, Palomar Junior College, 1969:  All passion (read froth or stoke or lust or hunger) seeks to eliminate itself; to diminish that desire that so often overrides logic and morals and common sense.  This lust/froth/stoke/hunger, extended by the ‘one more wave’ syndrome, can be more quickly diminished in sketchy, ‘one section too far’ conditions.

THEN, as passion does, passion returns.  NEXT TIME…

 

 

 

Logo me This

This is partially for Tyler Meeks, owner/operator of DISCO BAY OUTDOOR EXCHANGE.  We’re teaming up on some t-shirts; and have been working on the logo design for a while.  We have some accumulated shirts, mostly dark, in a variety of colors and sizes, plus black.

I have some dark and black shirts ready for my next LIMITED EDITION of custom ORIGINAL ERWIN shirts, and a new design (again, based on one of my favorite illustrations), but wanted to rework my logo.

SO, here’s the Disco Bay Logo (and I’ll probably redo the lettering) necessary for printing white on darker shirts:  And here’s my current logo and my next graphic, logo on the front, image on the back:

Scan_20191009 (3)

Scan_20191009

Scan_20191009 (2)

It is a bit of a brain tease, but you/we/I have to imagine everything that is black on the illustration being white on the t-shirt.  Hoping to go to the screenprinters tomorrow.  Shirts available soon.  Gotta go.

Cougar- Northwest Spirit Animal, plus…

…a potential t-shirt design.

I may have over-amped the color on the cougar drawing.  When I showed the original to Trish, she said she couldn’t concentrate on the cougar, it was just too skitzy on the page. That was fine, I intended to have the cougar sort of, um, non-obvious.

Anyway, here are the two versions:

Scan_20190912

Scan_20190912 (4)

Yeah, yeah; looks different in person.  Not necessarily better.  Oranger.  I have more copies; I’ll see what I can do.

MEANWHILE: Here’s a drawing I’ve been working on; possibly for a t-shirt design.  I wanted it to look kind of northwest-native-artsy; and, no, it really doesn’t; BUT I do want to claim some ownership of the potential phrase, “NORTHWEST SURFERS, NATURALLY COOLER.”  Again, yeah; surfers in Alaska and the Great Lakes and elsewhere might disagree.  Certainly.  It’s what people do.  Here’s the drawing:

Scan_20190912 (2)

SPEAKING OF WHICH, if you cruise down on the site, you’ll find some commentary on several recent posts.  SO, let me give my rebuttal(s):

NO, I hold no animosity toward, nor do I think I’m cooler than P.A. ripper Scott Sullivan (just) because I wear a leash, I’m older, and I don’t grease up my mustache.  We all have our own criteria for determining coolness, and I’m really concentrating on being in some category of Hipster; mostly because no one else seems to, despite appearances, want to be identified as a Hipster, despite my use of the word being in no way derogatory.

EQUALLY, I have no problem with the Surf Shop owner, AL PURLEE, who is about my age; despite having had him tell me, probably ten years ago, that I didn’t want a shorter board. “You’re too old, too fat, and you don’t surf enough.”  AL was RIGHT.  Al was, and is cool; and not just in that automatic coolness one has by owning (or even, by extension, working at) a surf shop; which comes with the added benefit of being able to think anyone who enters your establishment is a kook unless and until proven otherwise.  We all have that privilege.

PHOTOS might prove something, but, when I was asked if I have photos of epic waves and empty lineups on the ‘northern coast of Washington State,’ I had to decline.  Self-centered?  Yes.  I do, however, have some awesome shots of frozen peelers on the Great Lakes.  NOW, those surfers are (even) cooler.  Naturally.

Ravens are Indigenous, Most of Us Aren’t

Trish and I love ravens. Maybe Trish a bit more.  There’s a reason they’re honored in myth and legend in places where they are indigenous.  Without getting too deep into origin or migration stories, the Pacific Northwest is a place where they are indigenous.  Okay, let’s say locals.  They are locals, and most of the rest of us are visitors, tourists, refugees from somewhere else.

How I got myself into this whole thing is this: I wanted to have a cool title, with, maybe, some graphic lettering, to go with my drawing of a raven.  Ravenswood, ravenscraft, the words I might choose to use were taken up by video games and artisan beer companies and such commercial places.

Then, while watching the pre-season football game last night, coloring-in a larger (can’t be scanned on my printer) version of the drawing, mostly because this previously-colored version was criticized by Trish for being ‘too yellow.’  “And you put color on my raven (wait, her raven?); ravens are black;” I saw a little spot from the Muckleshoot tribe featuring a young woman, a champion middle distance runner, who was bringing attention to Native Women who have been murdered or disappeared by competing (and winning) with the image of a red hand across her mouth.

Powerful.

I didn’t catch the young woman’s name. Sorry. Here’s a related image:

5d48a9b634225.image

Okay, I spent another five minutes, found this image of Rosalie Fish taken by photographer Alex Flett:

5ced93c263431.image

Hey, maybe I’m reaching for a connection here. Maybe there’s just too much going on about who belongs where, who’s a local, who’s a migrant/tourist/visitor.  Part of my family’s history (or legend of actual history) includes a connection to Eastern Band Cherokees (pre Trail of Tears), with other connections to Wales, England, Scandinavia – legends of settlers and invaders.  Reaching.  Fine.  Maybe we’re not all migratory, transitory; here, there, and… gone.

Maybe I’m looking for something spiritual among the mundane.

I really just wanted to show my raven illustration.

Scan_20190809

I did tone down some of the yellowness.  When I get the later version, “Trisha’s Raven,” reduced, I’ll put out a side-by-side.

MEANWHILE, BONUS! Here’s a recent shot of Stephen Davis kiteboarding:

stevekite

Two-fer

It’s a two-fer because I have a laptop and a tablet, and I can edit things on the tablet, but, for some reason, can’t seem to figure out how to do it on this thing, the one where I can put new scans.  I decided, just after I posted the previous piece, that, since I now have a red and white version of the next-to-the-last illustration, I should also offer a side-by side comparison of that drawing.

Now, I did spend too much time trying to transfer some photos from my phone to my site, or, at least, to my email account; to no avail.  Later.

Anyway, hopefully, you will be willing to check out this and the previous posting.  OR, maybe I’ll just put both versions of both illustrations and you can skip the previous verbiage.  No, check it out anyway.  Thanks.

 

 

Another Negative Image

FIRST, it’s not surf season along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. One must go coastal. Some friends of mine recently did; sharing an adventure that anyone who doesn’t live in the Pacific Northwest would consider the classic Pacific Northwest surf trip: Hiking with backpacks and surfboards, dropping down ropes (and climbing back up again) to possibly-never-surfed spots… exhausting.

OR, one could go to Westport, look for a parking spot, look for an empty wave.

OR, one could work. It is painting season, yes; but my wetsuit is dr-yyyy-yyy; and, yes, I’m thinking coastal.  Coastal.

MEANWHILE, I did complete a new drawing; meant to be reversed, black-for-white.  I don’t really know how this is going to work until I get to a print shop.  SO, last night, sort of hoping to run into the guy (Jay) at the Sequim Office Depot, who has a handle on such things, I, instead, ran into a person who asked another employee how to do the reversal. She wasn’t sure, either; and the first two attempts saw the image reversed but the black staying black.

“No, I kind of meant…”

ON the next attempt, what had been black was now red.  “Whoa! Didn’t know you could do that.”  “I guess we can.”

On the next attempt, we (with my input and the other Depot person’s advice) got it right.

“OH, but, um, can you do other colors?”  They looked it up.  “Red, yellow, magenta, blue, some other color.”  “One of each, please; full-sized; then a couple of eight and a half by elevens.  Please.”

NOW, suddenly, I’m a little irritated with myself that I didn’t get some smaller, as in scannable on my printer, versions of the ones in color.  Here’s the black-for-white version:

Scan_20190711 (2)

I did lose some detail here; I’m blaming my scanner.  Now, imagine everything that is black as red, or blue, or…  and now imagine you are, quite exhausted from the hiking, out of a beach with silvery-shiny-glassy-empty-near-perfect waves.  And now imagine… whatever you want.

No, not being stuck in traffic.

Pay-back and Pay-for at the Hama-Hama Oyster-Rama

Abigale said she would buy one of my t-shirts if I promised not to ever drop in on her again.  “Wait. Me?” “Uh huh; you.” “No.” “Yes.” “Is this a [spot name redacted] thing?”  ‘Uh huh.” “Well, I must have thought you weren’t going to make the section,”  “Oh,” raising her voice noticeably,  “I was totally going to make the wave.”

“Oh.”

So, I’ve decided, here is how life goes: We have to pay back favors given, and pay for mistakes made.

So, yeah; I gave Abigale a discount on a shirt, five bucks off, and promised not to drop in on her ever again.  “Well,” she said, obviously thrilled with her new, limited-edition, Original Erwin shirt, “I did pull your leash.” “Oh? Um, did that stop me, or did I keep on surfing?”  “It stopped you.”

Oh. So, a little background: Abigale, who I actually met a couple of years ago when she was involved in running the SURFRIDER FOUNDATION Cleanwater event in Westport (I think it was the year I was given an opportunity to judge some heats, irritated the shit out of the head judge [mostly, my opinion] because I talked way too much- wasn’t invited back into the booth); was in the booth at behind and kitti-cornered to mine, doing some promotion for the upcoming (May 4th, I believe) WARM CURRENTS event.

I will insert photo of REGGIE and me when I figure out how to get it from hotmail.

REGGIE SMART was displaying some of his art along with my stuff, and is involved because he’s working on some surfboards CHRIS BAUER, Port Angeles shaper plans on having at the event.  I walked over to the WARM CURRENTS booth with Reggie to see if there might be an opportunity to push some of my stuff when I was confronted with my nefarious past.

20190420_120226.jpg

SO, that was the ‘pay-for’ portion of the day. The ‘pay back’ was giving a discount to a woman who works at the HAMA-HAMA store down SURF ROUTE 101, and was very helpful to me when I painted the interior a couple of years ago; and actually remembered me, out of my usual painting outfit, when Trish and I stopped in more recently.

AND, I guess I should add, in one of these two categories, that I did (and, begrudgingly, will) discount the remaining baby-poop-colored shirts.  Hey; I liked the color.  All of this is a learning experience.

20190420_120203

That’s Reggie’s art on the, um, ground, out of the salty puddles, but, yes, on the oysters.

Having a booth at the HAMA-HAMA OYSTER-RAMA was also a learning experience.  I’ve always felt a bit sorry for folks sitting in booths at events where people were there for some other purpose than buying some awesome drawings.

Most of the day, not knowing whether (or exactly how) to engage the passers-by, I felt sorry for myself.

Not so much.

SURF-SHELLFISH CELEBRITY ADAM ‘WIPEOUT’ JAMES is my contact, His sister, LISSA MONBERG, was running the event.  I saw Lissa once, Adam several times, though he was usually a blur passing quickly, schmoozing the paying attendees. Fist bump, hug, medium five; Adam, the most gregarious person I have ever met, has skills.

WHAT the participation (I punked-out last year) forced me to do is to organize my artwork, cull a percentage, push myself toward a more polished and professional approach.  My daughter, DRUCILLA (or Dru), recently moved back to the northwest from Chicago.  She went to Loyola University, 21 years ago, graduated, worked in new business acquisition for a major advertising firm.  More recently she worked for (and is continuing with some freelance work for) THE ONION.

She’s settling into a house in the historical district of PORT GAMBLE, and is working on making my website better (I have no skills) as well as the business end (even less skills) of trying to make some money from art.

20190420_120220

Here’s Dru in the booth.

I must also thank Dru’s pretty-much lifelong friend, MOLLIE ORBEA, for her tremendous help in this endeavor.  Mollie has a sign company, ORBEA SIGNS, is most of the reason Dru lives in Port Gamble, and lives two doors down from Dru.  Mollie supplied the tent, a table, the banners, the table runner, the easel, the table easels that kept falling over, and the beach chairs that, once seated in one, one would naturally assume the posture of a booth person who really doesn’t give a shit if you buy or not.

I, of course, was half-expecting complete failure.  I participated in a STARVING ARTIST sale once, in 1972, next to the Green Stamps Redemption Store in the Pacific Beach area of San Diego where we lived (LOCALS!) at the time. I think I paid ten bucks to participate, got sunburned, sold one original drawing for fifteen bucks.  SO, YEA! SUCCESS!

I was also quarter-expecting (so, less) complete success; upper-crust Seattleites lining-up, adorning their bodies with ORIGINAL ERWIN t-shirts, adorning their walls with limited (by me) edition illustrations.

20190420_152934

They were lining up all right.  For ice cream.

I don’t want this to sound like I didn’t make any money.  I did sell some stuff, did learn a lot; like, next time… Original Erwin cookies.  Pay For and Pay Back.

 

 

Wait; It’s that close to Christmas? Ow!

Hey, it’s December tenth. This is when, traditionally, I seem to run out of painting work. Not always a joyous thing.

I got laid off from a temporary position with the Civil Service on December tenth. It was a reduction-in-force in Civilservicespeak. RIF. I had reluctantly gone back to work painting for the feds after a two year separation due to my desire to hit the big time as a contractor; a career move with a shaky start (and why I gave up on big-time commercial projects- not a shark, stay out of the shark tank) that cost me dearly (five months working for free, loss of retirement drawn out, first time dealing with real depression, blah, blah); though I did lose a lot of weight.

Yeah, but that was twenty-five years ago or so. I’ve gained all the weight back. And, yes, then some; but I was really pissed-off because they, supposedly, kept employees with special skills. I was pretty much the only classically-trained and the most skilled sign painter, but never did learn the most important Civil Service skill.

I’d tell you what it is, but you might think I’m KISSING UP.

Another December 10th it was announced by one of the main general contractors that I worked for that he wasn’t receiving all the money from a project he had asked and planned for, and he was going to share that misfortune with his subcontractors. Joy.

There are other examples, and, maybe, like saying the surf has always been good on Thanksgiving, I’m using the date as a sort of marker of all the DOWNSIDES OF THE SEASON; the reason people celebrate the various holidays in the darkest days of the year. Yea, we’re alive!

ALL THIS, really, just got rolling out of my fingers as I wanted to write something about how I don’t have HOLIDAY GREETING CARDS ready to sell at TYLER MEEKS’ DISCO BAY OUTDOOR EXCHANGE.

I’ve been busy. But, here are a couple of examples of cards. If I get my job finished early enough I might have some time to get to the printers. I’ll let you know.

Image (3)

Available soon. Shit, I have to get going so I can finish up another job. MEANWHILE, best to you, including some waves. I hear they’re, traditionally, good this time of year.

This One Might be a T-Shirt Keeper

Trish told me to just quit looking at it. I had just put the larger and smaller versions in frames, fresh from getting the original reversed at the FedEx place in Silverdale, with help from a Hawaiian transplant I’ve dealt with before.

While he didn’t immediately see the wave in the last drawing, he said, of this one; “Oh yes, I can see it; the surfer, the board…”

Image (98)

The next time I go to Port Townsend, I’m going to check in with the guys who printed my last t-shirts, see if, maybe, they have some on hand they can use to get some out kind of, well, faster… and, having learned a few things from the first batch, I know now that a lot of surfers go for mediums; some for small.

So, though the double-x shirts are gone (one each to me), I do still have a few larges and extra larges, and some shirts are still available at Tyler Meek’s DISCO BAY OUTDOOR EXCHANGE.

MEANWHILE, I’m working (or better get to work) on some greeting cards using some of the best ORIGINAL ERWIN’s.

Like the promise of waves, coming soon.

AND, Yes, I’m still experimenting with the drawing of reverse images; but I do really enjoy the practice.

If it’s not chiaroscuro, maybe it’s…

…possible the illustration could be described by some other word that is, itself, defined as an image with an almost equal amount of black and white.

Image (97)

I discovered this ‘equalness’* when I took the original drawing, the negative of this image, to a printer to be reversed. I didn’t have that version reduced, so I can’t show it here, but, probably because I just can’t leave space, black or white, bare; the amounts of toner necessary to print either version, according to the guy behind the counter, were pretty much the same.

*I wanted to use the word ‘equanimity’, but, when I looked it up, it referred to a state of calmness despite whatever existential craziness is going on.

You’re right; I didn’t have to use the word ‘existential.’

SO, this one probably won’t become a t-shirt. Like everything; art, writing, paint contracting, marketing of art and writing; I’m still working on it.

AND trying to maintain some level of equanimity-ness.

MEANWHILE… Evidently some t-shirts are being sold at Tyler Meek’s DISCO BAY OUTDOOR EXCHANGE, located on SURF ROUTE 101, the main route to the ‘still wild’ Olympic Peninsula.