Tag Archives: surfing art

Skip Frye slides from there to here

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Skip Frye slides from there to here

“Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind;
Down the foggy ruins of time; Far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, Out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach… of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free;
Silhouetted by the sea, Circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate, Driven deep beneath the waves;
Let me forget about today… until tomorrow.”
Bob Dylan
This drawing was taken from one of a series of photos taken by Harold Gee in 1965 at Pacific Beach Point. At about the same time, Dylan’s song, “Mr. Tambourine Man,” had already been covered by popular performers of the time.
The thing is, both artists are still going.
Here’s the story: I wanted to do something more on Skip Frye, someone I mentioned in another piece from my days in Pacific Beach. I started writing it, and, at the same time…
Somehow illustrations have become a bigger part of my site than I originally planned. This is fine, even great with me. Classic Ron Stoner photos of Skip at The Ranch are part of my image-centric memory. Maybe yours, too. I started drawing one… wasn’t happy with it; Skip in the slot, hands at his side, arching slightly. And the lighting was perfect.
And, at the same time, I wanted to say something about other local PB surfers from my years (1971-’74) there. I couldn’t think of this guy’s name.
Then I did. Dale Dobson. I googled the name, got a video of a longboarder at Swamis.
Wait, wasn’t Dobson a goofy-footer? I checked farther, found a photo of Dobson at Big Rock, 1965. Yeah; goofy-footer. Then, in this group of photos by Harold Gee, there was this shot of Skip Frye at… he might have called it PB Cove, which I’d have to guess is somewhere between the Point and Tourmaline Canyon.
And the photo looked so familiar. It may have been used in Gordon and Smith Surfboard ads from the time.
Anyway, this is the black and white version. I just purchased some watercolor pencils, and, now that this version is on the computer, watch out!
Meanwhile, if Dylan or Gee, or even Skip Frye, have a problem with me using images or words… maybe their people can contact… wait, I have no people.
So, hey, check back later. Thanks for dropping in. realsurfers is not intended to be a secret spot.
To quote Dylan, again, “No, I’m not reclusive; I’m exclusive.”
NOTE: I tried to scan the drawing in black and white; didn’t work. The black would have been… sorry you can see a drawing is really just a bunch of lines.

Empty Wave

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Empty Wave

Real surfers know when to say, “I’ll just watch.”
Not always.
Those who don’t know the power of any wave talk of wave size.
A wave is unseen energy made visible.
“Made manifest” some would say.
Fools don’t realize a four foot wave can smack you down,
leave you rag-dolled, dizzied;
clumsily seeking footing…
and the next wave catches you, still unprepared,
floundering.
Oh, waves will usually push you toward land.
Not always.
Yet we love the power. Grind, thresh, thrash, trash.
Spin on.
We’ll watch, with respect, and fear, and time the intervals, and
when the ratio of fear to (what?), maybe fear to desire;
when that ratio moves toward one to one,
we heave ourselves off, out, into.

realsurfers1.jpg

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Drop In! We can all enjoy the ride together.
Nice sentiment; not that I mean it; not in the water.
I am trying to get over my wave greed; not trying that hard.
Oh, maybe if it’s a really long wave and you give me room.
Maybe if we’re friends.
Maybe if we can laugh about it later, on the beach.
Maybe if, on your next wave, you concentrating on the feathering lip,
dropping, preparing to turn up into the power source;
maybe then I make my move.
Maybe I’m laughing.
We all have the same obsession; different levels of passion.
Maybe. Drop in and see.
And thanks.

Image Imagined

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Image Imagined

I’m not sure what happens when I try to capture an image. Sometimes I lose control. Am I ever just totally satisfied with the results? No.
In this instance, I saw a photo of Dane Reynolds in a magazine; Dane defying gravity, blowing out of a powerful left, not putting his board on rail, but using the fins as a hinge, swinging back into the very power he’d just escaped.
But, I couldn’t find the photo again.
Was it really there, somewhere, a little farther down in the stack?
So, this is the result, third or fourth attempt.
Could be better. A little too much this, not enough that. We keep trying.
So much of surfing is really, in our imaginations, memories not quite like the hard copy.
When I find the original photo… we’ll see.

A Painting by Stephen Davis

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A Painting by Stephen Davis

Stephen Davis is a surfer/painter/kite-surfer (and much more) living in Port Townsend.
He was exhausted and surfed-out by the time I disenfranchised the rest of the local surfing population by wave-hogging.
But he heard about it.
Stephen continues to amaze me with his combination of casualness and his ‘gleam in the eye’ enthusiasm, his deep love of the (he’d say) intense emotions and excitement from riding on the natural energy occasionally thrown our way.
And yet, the first thing I liked about him is he said, “Your wave, Erwin; go for it.”
And I, of course, did.
If that says something about me, it says more about Stephen.

alternate arch

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alternate arch

I wasn’t totally pleased with the illustration for the story on the classic Hawaiian Arch. So, here’s another attempt. I’ll wait until my sister, Melissa Lynch, an awesome artist, gives me some imput.
I should mention she’s my younger sister, but, artwise, I’m intimidated by her. And, I have a story that is waiting for her illustration. It’ll be great. No pressure, Melissa.
Whether I use this drawing or the other, or another, I’ll delete the others.
Yeah, my scanner seems to produce those ‘burn marks.’
Not in black and white.