THIS IS NOT A SURF FILM

Those of you that know me know this: Johnny don't surf.

Not that I haven't. And not that I won't again (hopefully soon, I love it). It's just that in my neck of the woods, the only rideable waves are called "wakes."  And the closest we get to surf's up is "snow's down." 

So why am I diving into another surfy post? Because this: Surfers make the best videos. That's just how it is. Or at least they make the most soulful ones.

Trust me, I've at least dabbled in pretty much every solo sport there is: winter, summer, action, silent, hook, bullet, esoteric-stuff-that-white-guys-with-dreadlocks do, you name it.

The point is, my interests tend to careen. And with each new obsession comes hours of youtube time. So it's with absolute certainty that I say no one draws the connections between who they are, and what they do, as well as surfers do. 

The short film "Out of the Black and Into The Blue" is no exception. Of course, the surf footage is spectacular: Ridiculous sets – the likes of which I've never seen. And ridiculous rides – the likes of which I can only imagine in my wildest Spicoli dreams... right before me and Mick wing over to London to jam with the Stones.

But this is not a surf film. 

You can watch it as a surf film, yes. I'm sure director Luke Pilbeam would appreciate it, since that's the film he made.

But once you've watched it, play it again with your eyes closed.

Just listen.

This is a life film. 

Of course, that's the film Luke made too. Surfers just get that kind of thing.

"It's difficult to explain to those who haven't found their calling..."

Props to Luke Pilbeam (Director), Nick Tsang (Music), and Joey Brown (Words).

Water that moves: Erik Abel

Sol slice 3 ©Erik Abel

"Grab a beer and relax. This might take a while."

That, my friends, is how you kick off an About page. And artist Erik Abel wasn’t kidding. Originally from Ventura County, California, he’s lived all over the world – sweet and salty fronded places like Bali, Fiji, Sumatra, and the Kingdom of Tonga(!). Not to mention New Zealand, Australia, and aboard a bunch of boats in between.

He was searching for waves, mostly, and whatever else it is we search for when we find ourselves searching.

It makes for a good story. What makes his a great story, though, is this: along the way Erik created a trail. A string of paintings connecting one place, one culture, one experience to the next. I love his work. (Check it out. I’m so serious!)

To me, this is what the world looks like when you worry less about leaving your mark on it and, instead, allow the world to leave its mark on you. Clearly the places he’s been have affected his art and, I can only assume, his worldview.

I think it’s important, this idea of leaving a trail. Of making things as we move through life. It's a line of breadcrumbs, the things we create, whether they’re paintings or poems or even blog posts. They help us remember where we’ve been. Those special places and times where, for whatever reason, things seemed to make sense. And... should we lose our way over the ensuing years, it's those breadcrumbs that help us find our way back again.

Big thanks to Erik + Nellie Abel for letting me share some of Erik's work.