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Here are a few shots of a mini Simmons style surfboard by Steve Forstall.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
My new online Surf Magazine
I am launching an online surf magazine...The Independent Surfer, which will be concentrating on the underground surfers, board builders and other related folk including musical that rarely get mentioned in surf magazines. I have known many of these folks and am seeking good stories to write about others I don't know. Unlike many magazines which chase the world surfing tour and famous industry folk...I am just as interested in the local hero as I am the international surf star.
My site already has a few article written, but I do not have it complete, so excuse any punctuation errors you might find or half written content. All of that will be changed shortly when I give it it's actual release.
For those of you who know me and my writing style, the goal of this magazine is to content driven and not picture driven. My hope is you will find the articles interesting and informative.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Magic Moments and life spent on the pulse
Magic Moments and life spent on the pulse
There are those moments out there on the ocean riding waves that we sometimes refer to as magic. They spring up when you don’t expect them and cannot be captured again by seeking them. They just happen. I think of those moments as the driving force that keeps surf riders so attached to every aspect of the sport.
To outsiders it appears to be an mere obsession. Even among the masses who surf, most have no deeper feeling for it than they would having their favorite rock star or idol give them an autograph they can show their friends. To them it more of an addiction to fun or escape from responsibility rather than a true heart felt love of what it is to take in life as close to the earth’s living pulse as you may ever find.
Like the beating of a heart or the drawing of a breath… surfing, paddling, taking off and even sitting on the beach sizing it up has a rhythm. Recounting a great session to others who know, or have shared the same experience is universal. Like staring into a campfire among comrades . It touches some in the primeval realm and I suspect the very first humans that every slid onto a wave felt the same.
As with primordial man, wave riders create art celebrating time spent on the water… but instead of painting on cave walls you will find it sprayed on the walls of our decaying society or created in the craft used to ride waves. Others put it to the pen while others to the canvas. In a world that has lost touch with it‘s basic needs… I believe the art of surfing and the art about surfing is an unrealized struggle to escape the unnatural and return to the natural. Like many who leave society to live in the mountains, or cannot leave the farm for modern society. There is a longing to be free from false gods and societal bindings.
Time spent in the line up will require you to leave baggage that binds you to society on the sand to keep focus in the water. The mask you wear to exist among the land dwellers will fall off or be exposed in the line up. There are no secrets out there among those that ride waves. All is exposed and respect can only be earned.
There are interlopers who are dead to those magic moments and the dead that take up space in the line up are the same zombies encountered on land. They exist, but they don’t live and they never quite figure the love of surfing out while huddled together reading their magazines and wearing store bought images. They take the label of surfers, but they don’t have the ancient spirit of the sea. They offend easily, poison the water in which they swim and like a red tide are best avoided or shunned.
In the end…there are those moments out there in the ocean riding waves, that we sometimes refer to as magic. They spring up when you don’t expect them and cannot be captured again by seeking them.
They just happen.
There are those moments out there on the ocean riding waves that we sometimes refer to as magic. They spring up when you don’t expect them and cannot be captured again by seeking them. They just happen. I think of those moments as the driving force that keeps surf riders so attached to every aspect of the sport.
To outsiders it appears to be an mere obsession. Even among the masses who surf, most have no deeper feeling for it than they would having their favorite rock star or idol give them an autograph they can show their friends. To them it more of an addiction to fun or escape from responsibility rather than a true heart felt love of what it is to take in life as close to the earth’s living pulse as you may ever find.
Like the beating of a heart or the drawing of a breath… surfing, paddling, taking off and even sitting on the beach sizing it up has a rhythm. Recounting a great session to others who know, or have shared the same experience is universal. Like staring into a campfire among comrades . It touches some in the primeval realm and I suspect the very first humans that every slid onto a wave felt the same.
As with primordial man, wave riders create art celebrating time spent on the water… but instead of painting on cave walls you will find it sprayed on the walls of our decaying society or created in the craft used to ride waves. Others put it to the pen while others to the canvas. In a world that has lost touch with it‘s basic needs… I believe the art of surfing and the art about surfing is an unrealized struggle to escape the unnatural and return to the natural. Like many who leave society to live in the mountains, or cannot leave the farm for modern society. There is a longing to be free from false gods and societal bindings.
Time spent in the line up will require you to leave baggage that binds you to society on the sand to keep focus in the water. The mask you wear to exist among the land dwellers will fall off or be exposed in the line up. There are no secrets out there among those that ride waves. All is exposed and respect can only be earned.
There are interlopers who are dead to those magic moments and the dead that take up space in the line up are the same zombies encountered on land. They exist, but they don’t live and they never quite figure the love of surfing out while huddled together reading their magazines and wearing store bought images. They take the label of surfers, but they don’t have the ancient spirit of the sea. They offend easily, poison the water in which they swim and like a red tide are best avoided or shunned.
In the end…there are those moments out there in the ocean riding waves, that we sometimes refer to as magic. They spring up when you don’t expect them and cannot be captured again by seeking them.
They just happen.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Steve Forstall and his 11' 2'' Modern Longboard
Steve Forstall has been working on long boards in the above eleven foot range. He seems to have settled on 11' 2'' as his optimum length and poly instead of epoxy as his optimum medium. Steve says the poly simply has weight which gives these boards the glide needed to take off ten yards past other long boards. Having tried stand up paddle boards, Steve says the 11'2'' is a better answer for him.
If you notice the outline of these boards they are different than other extra long big boards. The wide points are further back and nose though still rounded for nose riding are more narrow.
The boards turn unreal says Forstall and given the wave conditions where he lives the last couple of seasons....these are his board of choice at this time. You can pretty much go surfing everyday he says.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
An unknown battle for an unknown cause
Along the heated plain of rage the brave are ready to die
Their banner unfurled and silently sways the sun blinds their eyes
An image of a warrior born comes growling over that plain
The defenders fear but stand their ground and death rakes through their lines
A battle toiled …
a broken flank…
a valiant few remain….
but not a slogan covers the shameful crimson stain.
voices on the wisp of wind where once defenders stood
Longing wails of sorrow, anger, and disdain
Longing wails of sorrow, anger, and disdain
At home a story told of a banner still unfurled…
the priceless image of valor earned through tireless toil and pain
But the valiant few whose voices were not carried on the wind
still ponder if the price was worth the gain
the priceless image of valor earned through tireless toil and pain
But the valiant few whose voices were not carried on the wind
still ponder if the price was worth the gain
And along the heated plain …the rage still remains…
Not for money, not for recognition, not about hype...only a world seen through the eyes of those who follow a different beam of light and carve their own personal path.
Surfing is something enjoyed on a very personal level and years after we all began, we could never have realized how much going surfing would change our lives and how we see the world. We have tried to put the feelings down in words numerous times over the years, but some things cannot be explained... they can only be experienced.
Surfing is something enjoyed on a very personal level and years after we all began, we could never have realized how much going surfing would change our lives and how we see the world. We have tried to put the feelings down in words numerous times over the years, but some things cannot be explained... they can only be experienced.
One definition of a revolution is an upheaval or drastic change. Revolution as it pertains to the art of surfing is to move away from the hype of the magazines, and the accepted norm into a realm of possibility. Our goal is to take another look at how surfboards and the art of surfing might be approached. Not to create a fabricated image, but to challenge conventional thinking.
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