Thursday, February 28, 2013
There is this moment in our digital age when our harddrives fail and our dreams are crushed. We being the stupid, slow moving "first adopters" of wholesale commitment of our lives to little spinny flashy discs that seemed so imperturbable, so indestructible in their digital one and zero intangible state. How could something be gone that wasn't there? How could you have put so much faith in something that wasn't there in the first place? What is this cognitive double bind dissonant ringing in my ears? And then some youngster skips along and says "Oh! you want that stuff back? Lickety split!" And Bob's yer uncle. Here is an old one that has magically popped back into existence thanks to one such young buck with a spangly doohicky that has retrieved at least some of my old dreams. Reminds me of the weather these last few days in New York. Made back when I used to carry around one of those digital point and shoot cameras that only filmed cruddy video in 30 second clips. Back when that was the new fangled thing. It all seems so quaint now.
Another in this genre here.
Another in this genre here.
SMASH Surf Film & Arts Festival is four-day event that will span across the NY area, from NYC to Long Beach, Montauk & Rockaway Beach. The Film Festival isa profit sharing surf film festival for independent filmmakers. Profits from screenings will be shared with each filmmaker, allowing an opportunity for directors and producers to help recoup the costs for their hard work on their films.
Submissions are now open for feature length films (30 min or more) until May 20th, 2013.
No entry fee.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
I post this here for an obvious "external" reason: it is a surf video.
I also post this here for more specific "internal" reason: it showcases the sort of surfing and surfing environment I am used to in my own life and to which I still aspire as pastime.
I post this finally for an even more "internal" less obvious reason: Lujon is one of my favorite Henry Mancini tunes and I am frustrated that someone else used it against surfing footage before I did.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
My own arrival on the Montauk "scene" was aggravatingly late and 100% coincident with the creeping summertime overpopulation. After that first full summer, I knew I couldn't stick around full time for another. A little bit of a heart break, but you gotta know when to bow out, even if it's only after one act. Or half an act, or whatever. But the people there are good, the light is incredible and while the waves aren't always world class, they're more consistent than most places on Long Island. Now during the summer when I show up at my preferred time (that little bit before dawn) it's already getting blobby out in the lineup. Even that lonely hour is not so lonely anymore.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Now let's stop to think here for a moment. What is the current state of surfing cinema? Should there be a current state? Does it matter? Do surf films add anything to the cultural material or rather are they simply pseudo-artistic reactions to pre-defined formulas to which spice is aspired via winky pop references inevitably couched in a constrained subject matter? Can this same lambast be placed against most films or even most artistic endeavors? Maybe we should not stop to think. Perhaps we ought to just enjoy.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
New York is a bandwagon. People from New York who work intimately with the New York scene will swear that New York is way more than that. It's the terminal from which the bandwagon departs, the hub of the wheel, the center of the wagon universe, blah blah blah. But that's a bunch of baloney. People here feed off the other people here and those other people feed off people from somewhere else. It's one big avalanche snowball with an unidentifiable source. No mountain, no hill, no great big Manhattanite's mitted hand initially packing the snow or shooting the canon or whatever else the metaphor-simile thing obligates. The thing New York's got, what it really has, are people who are passionate about culture. That's the secret. That's the bit that gets confused as genuine primal-force trail-blazing. But the culture doesn't come from here, necessarily, see? More often it comes from someplace else, and someone here, passion afire, lit by the combustable precession that really is New York's forté, gussies it up, repackages it and sends it back out there. This is not a bad thing. This is not a disingenuous thing. There is no lie, no subterfuge, it isn't some sort of grand guignol of debauched fakery. It's the real thing, embraced by real people with real passion. And if it sticks around long enough it just gets soaked in and becomes what New York is. And this is all a long winded, run-on, perhaps incomprehensible way of saying that surfing didn't start here. It was adopted. But unlike the recent adoption that most assume, it's been around for a long, long while with a passionate lineage that matches any passionate lineage anywhere. SMASH is the direct offspring of that branch of the family tree. These guys who are passionate about surfing and are bloody north-east coasting surfers through and through. And now they finally have a new website that you should look at as much as you can in the near future. Respect.
Monday, February 18, 2013
I would be a smarter lad were I more comfortable with talking on the phone. But I don't do it easily. I get all jumpy and distracted and I instantly start thinking about things I ought to be doing other than talking on the phone. This causes me no small amount of heartache. I think it may push the people closest to me temporarily further away than I'm comfortable with. In fact, when I look at my everyday demeanor, I think half the things I do have a similar effect. It's not just confined to the telephone. Here we have the work of my son's godfather and one of my oldest friends. He runs around and videos all sorts of neat things. And he has great taste in music. I'm profoundly proud of my friend, my son's godfather and uncle. And I'd like to take this opportunity to say to him: "Dear Kevin, I'm sorry I never pick up the phone. Sincerely, Todd"
First of all, how rad is that seal? I wish that was my family seal. Which reminds me, I gotta make a family seal. Secondly, click on the photo to see what's happening in some minds. It has been pointed out : "Right now, the Community Board has an email address set up for rebuilding comments. This is good, but not great because it doesn't encourage people to engage with each other and there is no transparent accountability with regard to suggested ideas."
I buy that...
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
It is that time of year when things traditionally slow down a bit, surf wise. Actually, not but a handful of months ago, I'm angling to set myself up for my most surfy East Coast winter ever. Work progressing on the beach house, the thing nearly ready for the some re-electric and some re-insulation and the final patch up. I'm even sold on which wood-fired stove I'm going to install in the house. Then I hurt my left knee thanks to all that repeated kneeling and lifting, and I'm retarded just a bit. Then Sandy puts a big stop to everything. The holiday crush sets in and time becomes shorter, the chill sets upon us and the place is still a shell, unfit for any proper warmth. And, of course I plug my other knee and I'm really out. On top of it all, the starter in my truck goes out, work goes off the rocker and I don't have the moment to wrap my brain around anything other than surviving here in Brooklyn. Typical. We set things up, look for the bright near-future, immediately reset for the bright mid-range-future with a sudden sober realization that really it's all long-term figuring. But then someone smiles and winks and reminds you that "life is short" and the whole thing suddenly seems like an unattainable pipe dream. And then you roll it all in beer-batter, fry it, craft some kind of garlic-mayo paste, cut up some red onions and cabbage and make a croissandwich outta the whole thing. Carry on. Carry on.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Well, if you know anything about me, you know I'm not very good at math. But if you know anything else about me, you know how much I have esteemed, leaned on and wallowed around the gilt halls of the bar once known as Zebulon. You also might have noted that the place shut its doors at the end of last year sending a rippling tidal wave of sadness through the last dregs of a year already filled to the brim with anguish. That being said, as with the death of any great personality, the wake is celebration fueled and the lasting effects are like a time-released capsule of nostalgic joy. I had the chance to hang around Zebulon quite a bit that last week and was able to capture some special moments. Click the big type there to see what I mean...
Last night up at Maysles Cinema we were treated to an overwhelming visual and sonic typhoon of surfy artistry and documentation. Patrick Trefz and Jim Denevan were on hand to add spice and D.J. Matchie and Dubstar were running the platters to a thirsty crowd. Another epic pre-SuperBowl opportunity is on tap with Albert Falzon's Morning of the Earth ready to screen at 4pm today. Slip it in before Beyoncé crows!