Last weekend I stayed at the house of an old surfing buddy, Kent Woods, who is also an accomplished artist (see the painting he made for me below). Aside from our early days spent as big wave gladiators, we also played in a rock band together. We wrote many surf tunes and recorded them in my small recording studio during the 80’s.
One night while reminiscing about the old days we broke out the guitars and began playing some of our old compositions. The energy in the room was so pervasive that another friend soon joined in the jam. It had been a long time since we played together, but we all went to sleep with smiles on our faces that night.
As I contemplate old friends and my love of the ocean, sensations swell and memories flicker. Impressions of sand between toes, salt drying on tight, sun-baked skin, soft winds cooling dripping wet hair in the summer heat, eyes squinting to shards of light dancing off waves, deepening the crow’s feet of a seaman’s gaze, muscles weary, stomach growling, and total contentment.
It’s hard to explain how much surfing has impacted my life and art. To this day I remain spellbound by that liquid medium. But why? Is it the transparent primordial soup of Adam’s ale? The random hypnotic motion or calming thunder of breaking waves? Or, is it my own involvement in that ever changing medium. I tend to think it is the latter. Indeed, participation in the aquatic dance is a microcosm of life itself. Searching the horizon for swells, like scanning the future for new opportunities. Judging where a wave will break and paddling to the right spot, akin to proactively positioning oneself, rather than waiting for good fortune to arrive at one’s doorstep. The quick paddle and rise to one’s feet, while maintaining balance in an ever-changing maelstrom, even as swift action, courage, and composure assist us in a world that continually throws us curves--ever adjusting, ever adapting, and enjoying the ride.
As with all things, competence requires preparation, but our greatest enjoyment occurs when life, love, and work becomes intuitive. Like playing music impromptu, jamming with other musicians, and feeding off their energy. Herein we dance in rhythm with life--graceful, in tune, coordinated.
While art is often mounted in a fixed frame, the process is not still life. Creation is a living involvement in a liquid medium. So one is lead to ask, “Is the real beauty contained in a frame, or in the artists themselves?"
No comments:
Post a Comment