Lately, I’ve been bored. Overcome by severe, glassy-eyed staring at the sea boredom. Sitting through the longest of lulls. An old dog laying on the porch. There is no salvation from it. No phone, no restaurant bar TVs, no crosswords, no tweets, no Instagram or music to save me. It’s just me and my pure, errant, wandering uninterrupted and uninfluenced thoughts (remember those?). I must tell you, it has been great.

Oh, and I don’t mean I haven’t been busy and that my life is one mindless staring match with the sun. Quite the contrary. I’m peppered and pestered by more work and adult-life related alerts, scrolls, chats, slacks, tax men, insurance calls, e-hangouts, e-mails, ringing and dinging than Griffin Mill in The Player. We’ve really set ourselves up for idiocracy here on Planet America. I mean, if you wanted to, you could go 24 hours without a single original thought thanks to our pavlovian addiction to anything but boredom. We’d rather look at the trash on The Daily Mail than have a hiccup in time with nothing stimulating our dopamine receptors. But now, every day, I shut down the engines and get really fucking bored for a while. I let things play out slow, unwrap thoughts piece by piece until they reveal themselves as fully formed ideas thanks to the magic of boredom. It’s true hopefulness, romantic daydreaming stuff, but it’s become everything to me. To build complex, multi-layered, slow moving unexplained thoughts in my mind like a little kid.

And before I tell you how fired up I am on the clarity and peace of mind I’ve found in my daily boredom, know that the irony is not lost on me that we are essentially an entertainment brand designed to prevent boredom and provide inspiration for you. So stick with me, but what I realized in looking at all this “stuff” below in our third installment of “Fresh Hell” is that a lot of art, thinking, surfing and making is spawned from hours and hours of serious boredom. You don’t get to where Cheryl Humphreys is with her serene color palettes and prints without long stints of thinking and waiting. Or how disconnected from everything do you need to be to make your food beautiful? Or think to paddle up Waimea river to collect mud for a painting like Herbie Fletcher. Or shoot medium format surf photos like Ari Marcopoulos. Or read or write a complex and engaging book like Multiple Choice or watch a subtle and cinematic film like Beau Travail. If you have the patience, the reward is as good as your very own set wave, the third one, the biggest, heading right for you with no one else around. Let the impatient crowd scramble for the first two, and watch as that third one comes right to you. Enjoy every paddle and coast into the wave of the day, all because you sat out there waiting, bored as all hell.—Travis Ferré  

If Steinbeck were alive and writing in the twenty-first century, then surely, at some point, he would attempt to broach the topic of Southern California’s first family—a “tribe of chiefs” (according to their matriarch, Dibi) whose mythos is so eminent, so broadly understood that I’m beginning to believe it’s woven into the DNA of wouldbe thrillseekers, death-defiers, action sport fans and stars, etc. I’m, of course, referring to the Fletchers. 

Because I’m none of the above, neither Californian nor competent at any of the boardsports, I’m told by more learned acolytes that there’s very little I could impart in this introduction you haven’t already consumed. And yet the Fletcher folklore continues to reveal itself in hypnotic resin fractals—like the setting sun on the surface of the sea—elucidating and mystifying all at the same time. Only a neophyte whose interests center on the family art practice, specifically Herbie’s art world metamorphosis, could unspool the stories left undiscussed by obsequious surf groupies or whomever passes as an industry “journalist” these days. Why ask about that large canvas featuring an almost geriatric Dennis Hopper rolling what seems to be a spliff when there’s a board that may or may not have been intended for the late, great Andy Irons right beside it?

Some of their story is embellished, some of it’s superficial, and some of it’s potentially false, but at its core, the Fletcher legend is a singularly Californian phenomenon that should be studied then historicized by the relevant experts and cultural anthropologists whose job it is to care about frivolities like dates and names and facts. The Fletchers are an ethos, a way of breathing that sees boundaries not as barriers, but as worthy provocations. “Life’s going to happen to you whether you’re inside with the air conditioning or outside living, so you might as well open the door,” says Dibi—or something to that effect. Watch the video or don’t, they don’t care and neither do I, but whatever you do, take the goddamn ride. —Eleanor Sheehan

Dressing up your ingredients even a little bit goes a long way.

BY PAUL BREWER

Making your food look pretty betters its taste by 46%. I don’t have any trials or studies to back this up, but it’s just gotta be true. A pretty plate of food just looks better, just feels better, just tastes better. 

This isn’t about being fancy, or winning a Michelin star, or even impressing a date (OK, maybe). This is about embracing that food is more than subsistence, or something to shovel in your mouth. It’s about showing a bit of appreciation of the ingredients, and maybe being thankful many of us have a choice in what we’re going to eat and how we’re going to eat it. 

But how? I’m not going to break out the tweezers just to garnish a Tuesday night dinner. I suggest making carpaccio to get in the flow. It’s less of a recipe and more of just arranging things (beautifully) on plate. Here are some of my favorites:

Beef Carpaccio:

The classic. Make sure your dressing is bright and salty. For this one, the tomatoes are unneeded, but some crusty bread should 100% be added. Oh, and this is raw beef, so buy your meat from somewhere decent, for goodness sake. 

Tomato Carpaccio:

The funky Caesar salad-type dressing makes this tick. It’s summer here which means lots of tomatoes, so I’ve been making this one weekly.

Tuna Carpaccio:

I had only ever eaten ahi finished with Asian-type things (wasabi, soy sauce, etc.) until I had something like this Italian-style tuna carpaccio. Tuna swim all over the world (in limited supply, granted), so naturally different cultures prepare it in different ways…they think beyond the sushi default. This recipe is so simple, so clean—you’ll feel great. 

Carpaccio of Root things:

Is this a salad? Maybe. Turnip, carrot, radish, and peas with a simple arrangement and dressing.  I do know it’s beautiful. Check out the rest of Alain Passard’s food on his Instagram for major inspiration. 

Have fun, arrange away. If you mess up and it looks like junk, my best advice is to not point out the flaws to your guests. No one is going to know unless you bring it up. Really. Making food is making art, and art is subjective, so fake it till you make it. 

Age: 21 | Location: Wilmington, North Carolina

On the Proust Questionnaire 

When someone as talented as North Carolina’s Gabe Morvil manages to remain under the radar, despite our unfettered access to information, it’s absolutely baffling. In an age of shameless self-promotion, wacky pool clips and gimmicky talents, someone like Gabe gives me hope. With a quiet, docile demeanor on land, Gabe is one of the most powerful, technical and stylish surfers I’ve come across in a long time. He flicks off the idea of shameless self promotion and does his thing. He’s a fine blend of Dane Reynolds, Noa Deane and Benji Weatherley. Taller guy, but he interprets it so smoothly on a board. Full of power and style. 

Matt Tromberg of Metal Neck just released a new part of Gabe that will hopefully rewrite the script. We cold called Gabe and put him through the old parlor game the Proust Questionnaire to get a better idea of what this Southern dude was all about. Let’s make this the last time you have to say you haven’t heard of him. 

What is your idea of perfect happiness

Living a comfortable life, surfing, everyday hopefully. Minimal real work. 

What is your greatest fear?

Probably falling to my death or getting mauled by an animal. 

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? 

Pretty bad with public speaking. Vocab is pretty off, that’s one thing I’d work on. 

What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Cockiness, and someone who acts like they don’t have time for you. That always bothers me when they think that they’re better. 

What living person do you most admire? 

I’d say my dad. He’s provided so much for my family. I’m 1 of 6 kids. He’s done a lot. He got put on his own at an early age, moved around a bunch and started his own business when he was super young. He’s been in business for 37 years I think. He’s a strong dude. He owns a graphic design agency. Commercial stuff, billboards and graphic design. Surfing wise, Dane Reynolds. 

What is your greatest extravagance? 

Eventually, probably car parts. I got a 2002 Tacoma, so I wanna keep that forever, so I’ll probably be putting some money into it. That and surf trips. 

What is your current state of mind? 

I’m motivated and a little bit frustrated at the same time. I’ve been injured for a couple months now. Frustrated but it’s making me more motivated to get back to surfing. Part surfing, part skating injury. Had to get an internal brace put in, tore up some ligaments in my ankle. 

What do you consider the most overrated virtue? 

Obedience. It’s good to teach others and especially children to be respectful and kind to others and have good listening skills to urge them to do the right thing but obedience is commanding and micromanaging it just seems extreme to me. 

On what occasion do you lie? 

I guess to probably get myself out of something stupid. Stuff around the house, if I misplaced it, or do something someone else doesn’t like. 

What is your least favorite thing about your appearance?

I get cankles pretty easily. 

Which living person do you most despise?

Tekashi 69.

What is the quality you most like in a man? 

Probably a good laugh. When they got a good laugh, it’s pretty contagious. I like that. 

What is the quality you most like in a woman? 

I love a good voice, a nice smile... yeah, pretty eyes. 

What word or phrase do you most overuse?

Probably, “Ah shit.” I’ve been saying the “F word” a lot, too, and I’ve been trying to refrain. 

What or who is the greatest love of your life? 

Definitely surfing. 

When and where were you happiest? 

I guess probably in Portugal on a surf trip. 

Which talent would you most like to have? 

I’ve been practicing a lot, but I wish I could pick up guitar a little easier. 

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? 

Probably my social awkwardness.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

I would say maintaining a career, but I've never been under contract so I haven’t officially had a “career.” I feel like I’m a little more cultured than some people, I’ll count that as an achievement. 

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what would it be? 

Maybe like a bird, or something. Fly around. 

Where would you most like to live? 

That’s a hard one. I don't know if I can answer that. I mean, I will answer, I like where I grew up, but I don't really wanna... I like using it as a home base I guess. I like traveling. I don't think I’d ever really settle in. 

What is your most treasured possession? 

Family. 

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? 

Lost at sea or something. Stuck on a boat out to sea, no communication. 

What is your favorite occupation?

I’ve always thought it’d be really cool to be an actor. Thought that would be pretty neat. To be a professional surfer, too. 

What is your most marked characteristic? 

Caring. I tend to care for a lot of people.

What do you most value in your friends? 

To have people to talk to and hang out with and share laughs with, share life with. 

Who are your favorite writers? 

It’s hard for me to pick up a book. It’s taken me like 2 weeks to get through 6 pages of the book I’m reading, Reports from Hell by Chas Smith. 

Who is your hero of fiction? 

Patrick Star from SpongeBob. 

What historical figure do you most identify with? 

Well, he’s fictional but I've been told I remind people of Tarzan... if that counts. Real historical figures, I don't really know who to compare myself to. 

Who are you heroes in real life? 

Aaron Freeman and Mickey Melchiondo from the band Ween. They’ve made some of the best music ever and it just makes me happy. 

What are your favorite names? 

If I were ever to have a son, I’ve come to terms that I’m going to name him Zeph. I’m still debating whether to spell it Z-E-F or Z-E-P-H.

What is it that you most dislike? 

Squatted trucks with loud mufflers. 

What is your greatest regret? 

Kinda is, but going to high school. I was homeschooled. Sometimes I’m like, “Maybe I woulda been a little smarter or a little less socially awkward if I went.” 

How would you like to die? 

Probably in my sleep. I don’t wanna drown. 

What is your motto? 

Be diligent and stay happy.

[Matt Tromberg of Metal Neck’s new film “Feeling Nostalgic” stars Gabe and will be out any second and as soon as its out we’ll paste it here.]

Los Angeles-based musician Pearl Charles has been coming into her own for the better part of a decade. Ever since her self-titled EP dropped in 2015, her style has slowly morphed, adapting with her own personal evolution, and taking shape with technicolor definition. Pearl’s 2018 full-length debut Sleepless Dreamer firmly positioned her on the map of singer-songwriters to watch. With its uplifting vibe and playful production, Pearl found herself with a sudden following who were eager to see her next move. Now, with her sophomore studio album Magic Mirror under her belt, Pearl is honing in on her vision as an artist. “Life is an ongoing transformation,” she tells me over the phone for this interview. “Or at least I hope for it to be.” 

Magic Mirror dropped in January of this year, almost as if reborn from the ashes of 2020. Filled with pop anthems bursting with positivity and her tried-and-true ballads seeped in Americana roots, the album came at a time when the world needed to look towards hope, to dance, and, most of all, to feel human connection. “I always say, and it sounds cliché, but I really mean it. When I listen to the music that I love, I feel less alone in the world. I feel more connected. And I just want to make that experience for other people.” —Maya Eslami

INHERENT BUMMER: Tell me about your new album, “Magic Mirror.” It came out in January, right? How’d that go?

PEARL CHARLES: It’s been continually going well, which is really awesome. I've never had this much love from an album and it's very heartening to see the upward momentum. And you've known me for a very long time and seen the path and it's not an easy one…

I've been watching you grow.

To be honest, I feel like it's a better record [than the last one], but that's just naturally how it's going to be when you get better and improve and hone in on your vision.

What was your vision going into this album?

Well, I used my touring band on this one.

You mean they all played on the album?

Yeah, and on my last record we used session guys, who are great, but there's just something to be said about really spending years on the road, playing songs with people and how much that really gels together. And on the last record I had toyed with the idea of doing an ABBA style thing, but we never got around to doing that. So now I feel like on this record, obviously I really went hard into that vibe, but people seem to really be liking it. So I'm excited about it. Like that song, “Only for Tonight.” It fits in, I feel like, and it really sets the stage for the kind of album that it's going to be. It's fun, it's dancy, but it's also... If you listen to the lyrics, they're introspective, and that's the whole theme of the record.

I know the lyrics are incredibly personal to you, and introspective. And revealing. But it gives off this uplifting sound. Was that a subconscious way to make it easier to release the songs? 

That's a really great question. Probably. I'd never really considered it like that. I love the concept of “Magic Mirror” as the title of the album because I feel like there's two sides to everything. It's about duality and we are not ever one thing only. Of course, sometimes we feel very deeply one emotion, but I feel like I wanted to put forward something that's a little bit more complex and something that contains the Yin and the Yang just because I feel like that represents me. And I feel like that represents my life experience and hopefully other people can relate, and I think that they can.

Do you feel like this is your ‘coming of age’ album? 

Well, I turned 30 two days ago. And it's really funny because I keep saying this, which is a weird thing to say, because it doesn't really mean anything. But if I turned 30 last year, I don't know that I would have been that stoked about where I was in my life. And that’s just partially because of the pandemic. I don't think anyone was that stoked about where their life was at, in May of last year. You know what I mean? Now? I mean, my record was supposed to come out in May of last year. So there was a lot of waiting and a lot of wondering how it was going to go. And then ultimately I think the timing lined up really, really well for me personally, and for the release into the world, because the album does have positivity contained in it. I didn't want to put that out at a time when it might seem inappropriate. I think the world is always going to need [positive] energy, but I didn't want to distract from all of the pain that was happening in the world and put something out that seemed tone deaf.

That’s pretty astute of you to acknowledge that. 

It was a tough decision because obviously you become somewhat more disconnected from the material the longer away you are from finishing it. But I feel like putting it out at this time gave it a new life for me. I feel like it came at a really good time, and to see the way people are responding to it made me more excited about it. I always say, and it sounds sort of cliché, but I really mean it. When I listen to the music that I love, I feel less alone in the world. I feel more connected. And I just want to make that experience for other people.

Did it feel cathartic to release? 

Well, like you said, it is a coming of age story and it is somewhat chronological. The order of the record that I chose to put it in… It starts with the break up song and the one-night stand, going out and partying song. Then there's some darker, more introspective stuff to round out the first side. And then the second side goes into the story of finding yourself and finding a partner to share it with when you're ready for that. That's a journey of many years.

When it came out and I heard the title, Magic Mirror, I immediately thought of Snow White, and also Alice in Wonderland. But the way you just expressed the journey sounds so much more transformational. Do you feel like you transformed in the process of making this album?

Yes. I definitely do. And I think life is an ongoing transformation or at least I hope for it to be. And I believe it is, if you choose to continue to grow and you don't become complacent and get stuck, which can happen whether you want it to or not. But I think that, yeah, the transformational journey is such a big part of it for me. And I hope... Here I am at this writing retreat thinking about what I'm going to write about next. And I'm like, "Oh, I don't want to go over the same ground." But at the same time, it's just always going to be part of the story.

What’s up with the writing retreat? 

Well, it's kind of a writing retreat. That's how it started. I came here back in the summer of 2017, right after I finished my last record and wrote two of the songs that are on [Magic Mirror]. And they brought back a lot of people. Lola Kirke was here, and Courtney Marie Andrews, she was nominated for Best Americana Album at the Grammys. So it's a great crew of people. But the last time we came, they didn't have a studio or any way to document what was going on. And it's this nonprofit program that brings artists together. They built a studio in the last few years and we're all recording alternate versions of our old songs that we wrote here, or new songs that we wrote on this trip, or whatever we want. 

What's the organization called?

It's called the Almanack Arts Colony. It's a really special unique place and gives you a space outside of your own normal situation to be creative, without any pressure, which I think is so great.

How much longer are you there for?

I'm leaving on Monday. We’ve been here for three weeks. It was a good way to ease back into socializing as well. Everyone's vaccinated. And I haven't been around people that I didn't know or large groups of people. There's been at most 15 people [in one room] at a time, but that's drastically larger than any group I've seen in the last year and a half.

Is that the first trip you've been on?

Besides a road trip to Big Sur, yeah. 

We’re slowly getting back to normal. And you just lined up all these tours.

I'm very excited about that. I mean, it's still really far in the future. I haven't even announced this yet, but we're going to go to a bunch of places in Europe that I've never been to before, I'm so stoked.

Have you written any new songs while you’ve been at the retreat?

Well, Michael [Rault] is here with me.

Are you guys collaborating on something?

We've written a few songs together and we've also both spent time doing our own thing.

So what's next, now that you're at this retreat and your mind is inspired? 

Well, we're going to go record more in June. So that's really exciting. Probably not a whole record just yet, but I'm going to have enough songs for a record, but we're just going to start… The main thing that I know for sure is recording and then touring next year, but in the meantime, I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens.

See where the road takes you.

Yeah. It's funny, this applies to Snow White as well. It's like the wishing well; creativity needs to be refilled once you empty the vessel. And that's what I did on this record. So now I'm going back to the drawing board, by being here, changing my environment. There's been a lot of inspiration in the last year and a lot of stuff to think about. And I've been lucky to have been able to take advantage of the fact that we're not on tour, to write more. It's cool though, to be able to now step out and actually be able to travel and have experiences again, because I didn't realize how much that plays into it. Obviously all the emotions and all of the ideas come from inside your head, but sometimes you need to have the external experiences to reflect what you want to say and how you want to express it. 

Do you feel like you expressed what you wanted to say with Magic Mirror?

Yes. I'm very proud of that record and I really think it shed a lot of light on what I wanted to say, at that time. But I do think that the next record is going to have some different content. What it is yet, I'm not sure. It's actually funny, [Magic Mirror] was supposed to have a song on it that ended up getting cut off. I say “fuck” in it. And it's a bit darker. And taking it off really... We switched it out for “Sweets Sunshine Wine,” which we'd released previously as a single, but we wanted to give it a vinyl release. Changing that one song really changed the whole vibe of the album and made it a much more sun-shiney and happy kind of thing, which I think was the right move for this album. But, lurking below the surface, there's some darker stuff that I might have to bring out next time around.

For more music by Pearl Charles and upcoming tour dates, click here.

 

Ari Marcopoulos is a photographer who’s often referred to as a cultural anthropologist. After moving to the US from Holland in 1980, Marcopoulos zeroed in on the fringe, documenting New York City’s cultural frisson: a collaborative menagerie of art, hip hop, and skateboarding. His first job stateside was assisting Andy Warhol and he would go on to photograph the immortalized trio of Warhol, Keith Haring, and Jean-Michel Basquiat before turning his lens toward early hip hop stars like Public Enemy, Beastie Boys, and The Fat Boys. Not long after that it was skateboarding and the Brooklyn Banks crew that captured his attention, and his iconic portraits of Harold Hunter and Justin Pierce kicked off his chronicle of ‘90s skateboarding scenes in New York and San Francisco. He’s made underground skate, snow, and surf films, shot a Jay Z album cover [Magna Carta Holy Grail] and his work is part of the permanent collections at The Whitney and The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Ari’s work was recently featured at Fergus McCaffrey St. Barth’s show entitled “Barbarian Days” — a surf-themed exhibition that caught our eye and offered an opportunity to talk with one of the underground’s finest documentarians.

Inherent Bummer: What struck you about moving to the U.S. as a young man from Holland? And what was it about skating, basketball and hip hop that attracted you? 

Ari Marcopoulos: Just the city, as it was, really attracted me. When you’re young, it’s the big buildings, the skyscrapers — especially when you come from a place like Holland where there are no buildings over 10 or 12 stories. Not many of those at all really. And I was always into basketball, primarily, and I just had to get by, you know? When you’re young and in a city like New York, you quickly start discovering things, wherever you go, wherever you hangout. I noticed certain things. The most interesting thing to me was the hip hop culture. Not just musically, but I would see them on the subways, this kind of style of dress and then when you meet other young people, go out and go into some of the more independent art galleries. That’s kind of how it got going. 

Skating and Hip Hop aren’t the easiest cultures to just dive into, how did you gain access to document them? 

I don’t have a strategy. I’m just who I am. I never really schemed to get into anything. If you're interested in something, I mean, there’s no hierarchy in skateboarding, so gaining access for it, just having the passion for doing it or documenting it should get you the access. It’s really a fantasy that people think that they need to be given access. You might have access to everyone, but if you don’t do anything with it, nothing’s gonna come of it. There’s a big sort of idea that if you know a great basketball player that you’re also going to become a great, that’s not how it goes. I think that sort of is a myth that the access will lead to great images, but you have to be focused and see where it takes you. I have for years, I did things for years without making any money. 

So you never got vibed?

I think some people resist and others don’t. If you talk about surf culture there’s the whole local culture that exists in some places — like if you park your car somewhere they smash your windows are some shit — they act like that spot on earth is only theirs. That attitude exists. I think in skating perhaps too — there’s definitely in the beginning maybe a more... maybe a scarier image, it was sort of a cultural, urban thing, and that’s changed a lot now because skateboarding has become much more — and many, many more people are skateboarding now. 

What were some of your early experiences with surfing? 

My first experiences with surfing were in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I wasn’t documenting it, I was just looking at it. This is in the late ‘70s, this is the first time I saw surfers and surf culture. They all had skateboards, too. So I bought a skateboard in Brazil and it was basically a wooden plank with clay wheels, and I took that back to Holland but with the cobblestones that was a foregone conclusion that that wasn’t going to work. That was my first contact with it. And while I was there I bought some surf magazines, which I think were mostly American magazines. The weird thing about the surfers in Brazil were, they were kind of kids from all backgrounds but the surf magazines were full of white kids. So it was a strange disconnection there. But I think that was the first time. Since then I had smaller interactions with surfing. I lived in Northern California and Sonoma county for 12 years. I met some people that surfed up north and I had some friends that would go out and surf and sometimes I’d go with them. And then some of the snowboarders, I did a lot on snowboarding, and those guys were big on surfing. I remember one time I went surfing with Craig Kelly...I just posted a picture of him actually and we went to these crazy trails, and these beautiful — I don't know what kind of rock — but these soft shaped rocks and through this valley down to the beach…

Blacks? 

Yeah, I think so. Surfing is really difficult. People tell me it’s easy, and I think it’s really difficult. I’ve tried several times, but I’ve never been close enough to an ocean. For me, when I think about surfing, I feel that, I always had this idea that a surfer is someone who has a shack and when the waves are good he goes out and he surfs. But then I realize, when I did a film, for the NRDC [Natural Resources Defense Council], about protecting the oceans, and then I went out with some big wave surfers and shot some footage in Santa Cruz and up north. There was like a slab that we drove hours to get to. 

Have you tagged along on any international surf trips before? 

I went with [photographer] Aaron Chang  to Todos Santos for a big wave contest and I shot some video for him. That’s the trip that broke the image of surfing for me. I always thought these guys are the caretakers of the ocean, but they sure use a lot of jet skis and helicopters to ride waves. I was like, “These guys are carving huge carbon footprints. Snowboarding can be like that, too. They talk about the climate, but when it comes to going uphill, they’ll take a snowmobile instead of hiking. So I have a very conflicted relationship with that.

There’s become several factions in surfing. There’s the more aggressive big wave guys, the jockey competitive guys. Then there are still the traditionalists who will and do paddle out from a hut when a wave breaks. Then there’s the kids who are basically gymnasts. 

I do admire good surfers and I love watching. I checked on your website, I saw a thing that you did and I was amazed by these kids catching these airs and doing 360s and landing on the lip of the wave. I was like, “Shit they really took it to the next level.” 

I really loved your film “The Tazynator.” I’ve seen a  lot of attempts at that style of film and they rarely hit. But that one was just perfect. Tell us about that film.  

Well, Anthony Tashnick is a guy who’s full of enthusiasm. I met him through Patrick Trefz and all the guys who are surfing with him were all big wave guys. It’s funny because I’m not part of that scene, they were down for the program to do something with me. I edited that film like in an evening or something, and the idea for me was sort of James Bond like... just the way he jumps down 10 times his body length into this lagoon off the rocks, and paddling into the wave and the whole process of getting out there, combined with the music and the early morning, the way the music comes up. It was really about creating this spy-like atmosphere. That spot we shot gets a lot bigger — and it was still pretty big. I love the bell shape of that wave. It comes up and then it disappears. And then the ending shot, I really like how he fights his way out of the wave. 

[Editor’s Note: The Tazynator is available for viewing only during specific windows. We’ll make sure to let you know whenever it’s playing, it’s worth the hunt.]

Your interpretation of surfing and the surfing process was so cool.

It’s also brief. It’s not like the “Succession” of surfing [laughs]. I remember Volcom put out one of my VHS tapes called The Walrus Dreams, and there’s some surfing in there. The surfing is minimal, and the snowboarding is minimal, too, really — it’s much more about being on the road and dealing with bad weather. It was like the most hated film of the year by the industry, but the most loved by the riders. Lots of younger kids that started filming for Grenade were very influenced by that film, because it broke away from the norm. 

There’s a photo in the show called Deadmans that’s really interesting. Tell us about that one.

Yeah, that is in Northern California, shot from up high, looking down, and there’s a person on the wave. Something I started to do when I was in Rhode Island, I would look at the surf report and it looked like the waves were gonna break pretty big — maybe not ideal conditions, but I was quite sure people would be out there surfing. I knew this one spot in Providence. It’s a cliff walk where tourists and everyone can walk. The views are really incredible, beautiful cliffs. I went out with a large format camera and framed up a landscape and I’d watch with my [naked] eye — because in the camera I can’t see. They’re little ants [in the water] and I try to catch someone doing something, just even a cutback or riding top of the lip, just something that you might notice after you look at the picture for quite a while that there’s someone actually surfing on it.  I have a landscape from that day at the slab, too, and the surfer in the picture is tiny, but he’s just in the barrel and coming out at high speed and you see it, but it takes you a while. I often don’t know who’s in the water, I just hope, and often there’s someone good. It’s cool to see the human figure as part of nature. But that’s not something I do very often. I went with my wife and she’s was like, “Ari, can we go now?” And she knows, I’ll stay for a long time to get the shot I’m after. 

I wanted to briefly mention the Keith Hufnagel book you made in memoriam. Really beautiful book. 

Yeah, I just went the day that I got the call [about Keith’s passing]. I went to the beach and that was my way of mourning him. There was a small shark washed up on the beach. It was dying. I put it in the water, but it didn't make it. It was interesting that it was there that day. He’s a good guy. He also tried to surf once, he almost drowned. I think Barry McGee saved him. He was like, “What the fuck!”  

[Check out Ari Marcopoulos’ work here and be sure to check his work in Fergus McCaffrey St. Barth’s show “Barbarian Days”, now showing.]

Warm beer and glossy-paged nostalgia in the unlikeliest of places

BY JOEL VAN WYK

The devil is alive and well and living in New Haven, Connecticut. Didn’t Jim Morrison say that, or something to that effect before he got arrested? I don’t think that’s the quote, but it’s generally how I feel about the Constitution/Nutmeg State. Nutmeg State? What the shit? 

Maybe it’s the fact that there’s no surf that makes it seem like purgatory.

Here I am, mildly hungover on this Sunday morning. No waves back home in Rhode Island so I made the two hour drive to Craigslist Kevin’s house. The aged, faded pink paint chipping and peeling off the façade. Dilapidated, unkept, and out of place in this ring of hell. This cursed and unfortunate stronghold of the upper-middle class. White picket fence dreams, two kids, one dog, mortgage payments, divorce, and murder/suicide. Bored housewives on methylphenidate to make the day interesting. 

I found Craigslist Kevin on Craigslist, obviously. His post stated that he had over a hundred copies of Surfer/Surfing mags from the golden age, mid ‘90s to early ‘00s that he was looking to get rid of. He didn’t want to just chuck them out but was giving them away for free to whoever wanted them. His post was three months old. I was the first person to respond.

Kevin notices me through the window and motions for me to come inside. I was really hoping this would be a quick, painless, and outdoor exchange. Nevertheless, I enter his abode and we greet each other with an awkward fist bump. Kevin looks old, he could be in his fifties but looks to be in his sixties if not older. Tired and weathered. Beat down by relentless storms of life and being forced to reside in this waste of an excuse for nothing more than a freeway connecting New York City and Boston, (Rhode Island being the small, often overlooked Shangri La between Sodom and Ghomorrah).

Kevin tells me he just got back from church. Kevin has obviously been drinking. Evidence in the form of assorted empty beer cans litter the living room. He doesn’t seem to discriminate, Coors, Bud, Miller, the usual suspects. The smell inside is stale and musty and there seems to be a thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. There is a lot of Jesus however. Framed portraits of The Messiah, torn cushions bearing his likeness, even a small replica of Rio’s Christ the Redeemer statue on the mantle. Too much Jesus. Don’t get me wrong, in the immortal words of the Doobie Brothers: “Jesus is just alright with me,” especially since he blessed me with the opportunity to slip digits into Tineal Marais in a tent on a church mission camping trip all those pubescent years ago. Sweet girl, we still keep in touch. Still, too much Jesus. 

Kevin and I exchange a few pleasantries and before I can pick up the box containing the mags, he asks if I want a beer. Please, God no. Don’t do this to me. I can’t wait to get out of here, the revenge of the cheap Shiraz coming on slow, sickly, and anxious this morning. 

“Sure!” I exclaim to my own surprise. What am I doing? Kevin has already cracked a golden Coors Banquet tin and is handing it to me with a grin on his worn face. Why not, one won’t hurt. I might actually feel better. 

He leads me out to his overgrown backyard, complete with weeds and rusted scrap metal heap. We take a seat on dirty old lawn chairs and take in the weak, midday, late winter sun which actually pairs fairly well with the warm beer. We flip through his old mags and get to talking surf. Over the next few hours we polish off multiple warm beers, Kevin regaling me with tales of his past, his journey, how he and his love once travelled the world, surfing, camping, hitchhiking, fucking, fighting. Both his love and surf stories came to melancholic ends but he seemed glad to relive and share them with an interested stranger. At one point Kevin went inside to retrieve a thick, grubby scrapbook. Paging through the photo filled album, I’m in disbelief at first but on closer inspection it’s undeniably young Kevin. His now ash grey, wispy hair, pictured then lashing behind him as a golden mane. His frail arms, shown strong, vascular, and glistening in sunlight and salt water. He’s riding a very short, very bright teardrop shaped board and absolutely tearing the lip off of a blue head-high section. Over the page, posing clad in short shorts with the same board, a beige VW Beetle and a gorgeous, young and bright eyed Lolita with caramel skin. Another spread of Kevin this time crouching extremely low into a squat, hips between his knees, threading through a turquoise cylinder at high speed judging by the blur. I’m awestruck. 

Back at home later the same evening, buzz of warm beer fading, I’m glad I met Kevin. I’m listening to the best ‘90s punk playlist I can find on Spotify and am transported back to gromhood in bright neon flashbacks through the mags. The boards all longer and slimmer. There’s Kelly with a full head of hair. Reef and Black Flys hawking bronzed tits and ass alongside sandals and sunnies respectively. Hot Buttered and Sunny Garcia surfing on PlayStation 2. Andy alive and obliterating a heavy section, big, bold, black MCD diamond on the nose of his sharp Arakawa. Quiksilver – ‘If you can’t rock ‘n’ roll don’t fuckin’ come.’ The essence of cool. No quarter asked from the establishment and none given. 

I’m glad I made the drive and I met Kevin and I’m thankful for the fresh nostalgic fire he gave me through his stories and these old magazines that nobody wanted. Mostly, I’m just glad to be out of fucking Connecticut. 

8 years ago Michael Cukr came into our lives a raw and ridiculously talented skate grom. He was perfectly green and had bushels of curly blond hair. He was unfazed by anything and ready for everything. Since that fateful day, he’s cut his golden locks a few times, started surfing more, and turned into one of the most talented photographers, filmmakers, and all-around creatives there is. Period. All genres. His work continues to grow far beyond the limits of surfing and skating. There are really no limits on what he’ll create and he’s still really young. As you’ll see below, even in these tough traveling times, he gets out there. We asked him to send us some shots from his iPhone, just to get a sense of his life and what it’s like to traverse multiple industries with a camera in hand.

It’s worth mentioning: Michael has become one part little brother, one part best friend, and all parts iconic talent. There isn’t anyone else I’d jump on a plane to anywhere with. Don’t care where, no questions asked I’d go with him and he’d annoy me the whole way and I’d be the happiest person in the world, even when he skates through airports and makes me stressed out and calls me Naijyeee. His work is constantly evolving and he finds himself in the thick of it with the world’s best and most fascinating people. He is unafraid to get in the van and hit play. Check his website here or his underground media brand Xorbent, and when you see the name Michael Cukr, definitely hit play. And for more, check the Bummer Rolls at the bottom. He checkmated Heith Kirchart over Christmas. I know he’d want me to emphasize that. —Travis.

Photos and captions by Michael Cukr

BY ELEANOR SHEEHAN

When the entire interactive terrain is occupied by snake charmers — when everything and everyone is a salesman fronting as a healer — there is only one way out of the four cornered fugue: commandeer their strategies, deconstruct the box, and recreate your own force field with all the tools now in your arsenal. You can’t fall for the psyop if you’re psyoping yourself.

WEEK 12:

Viewing Assignment: Claire Denis’s Beau Travail

*Spoiler Alert: This is the ending to the film…but, well, screw it, just watch. You’ll still want to see the whole thing after.

Put on your uniform. Look to your left, then look to your right: smell the stale bliss of similitude, inhale the horizon of half-reflections. Notice how wearing the same oversized and unflattering fatigues as your neighbor alleviates a pressure you never knew existed. Observe the painlessness of homogeneity, the vigor of a collective mind. Isn't it curious that solitary organisms tend to become one when grouped together?

The ground is dusty, salt-crusted. Bend down and rest your ear on the dirt. Listen to the thrum of footsteps, the interconnectedness of things moving in unison. The sound you hear is undifferentiated oneness, the sound of predetermination freeing you from the weight of choice. Collapse and surrender yourself to utilitarian comforts.

Week 13:

Reading Assignment: Alejandro Zambra’s Multiple Choice

Every problem has a solution and every solution has more than one application. What seems obvious may be chicanery, but if you stultify your synapses to the point of submission, you will begin to understand the benign efficacy of trickery, the benevolence of universal programming.

Master the language of mental-engineering. Pay careful attention to the patterns that connect Point A to Point B. Look between the lines, measure the distance between letters, teach yourself to detect latent signals, and realize once and for all that reading between the lines is a useless calculus, intended only to weed out the obstinate from the docile. Thinking is hard. Obedience is easy.

Week 14:

Reading Assignment: Aldous Huxley’s Island

The seller turns to the buyer and asks, “What will satisfy you?” 

The buyer responds, “Happiness is sacrifice. The more people sacrifice, the happier they are.”

As you held your ear to the soil, a single blade of grass forced its way to the surface. You inspect its sharpness and its conviction for life resonates. You wonder how many other blades of grass are struggling to thrust themselves through the arid crust. Perhaps hundreds, maybe thousands. It’s hard to say, given that you’re in a desert and rain rarely settles here. But you feel an undying need to help, to do something. If only you could extract each and every one without compromising their vegetative dignity. 

The buyer turns to the seller and asks, “Are all dystopias the penumbras of utopias or are all utopias the penumbras of dystopias?”

The seller answers, “Death for some is life for many.”

Week 15:

Reading Assignment: Italo Calvino’s Cosmicomics

Parallel, though at times perpendicular, to the line that connects Point A to Point B, also known as Plane C, there is Plane D, a parabolic continuum with vertices that neither reflect nor intersect with the principal plane. Think of Plane D as infinite. Think of Plane D as adhering to all universal laws and none of them simultaneously. Think of Plane D as the impetus under the blade of grass, as the immeasurable space between atoms conjoined to create crust, as the trajectory of life from birth to rest. Think of Plane D as Qfwfq.

Week 16:

Viewing Assignment: Wim Wenders’s Pina

Shun modesty and liberate yourself from the confines of consistency. Prance across the planetary terrain with deliberate spontaneity. Scream silently. Skip past the spot marked with a X and devilishly draw so many X’s that the original loses its singularity. Welcome the churning gyre of sand, destined to destroy your idealistic dust sketches. Lose interest in how individual molecules move, become infatuated with what moves them.

Healing your soul through visual art

Cheryl Humphreys is a visual artist based in Los Angeles whose work in printed matter, specifically paper, transcends the physical realm. Using handmade materials and an impeccable eye for color, she creates evocative monoprints with blind embossings on a 500-pound press in her home studio. These printed paintings feature shapes that play on shadow and movement and have the ability to transport the viewer to another dimension. Her artwork has been featured by Tappan Collective and l’Editions Arts Gallery, to name a few. And although her career only continues to grow to new heights and creative opportunities, Cheryl’s ever evolving spirit is in a constant state of reinvention. “We’re living in a world where a lot of artists can pave new paths and redefine how they work,” she says. “It’s up to me how I want to share my work and put it out into the world.” 

At the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, Cheryl, like many other artists, found herself in a creative lull. “I didn’t really have much on my agenda because it was COVID and no one was reaching out.” At the same time, serendipitously one might say, Otra Vox, a new Los Angeles-based residency for artists, opened its doors and was looking for its first resident. “They wanted me to be their case study, and I took one look at the space and said, yes, absolutely.” The space is an industrial type building in the Downtown Arts District that was once an underground venue where Siouxsie and the Banshees allegedly played. Cheryl created her own world inside of this building, transforming the nondescript white-washed interiors into a bright, colorful playroom where she began to cultivate her desire for artistic expansion. “I think the world more than anything right now needs healing,” she told me a few weeks ago for this interview. Inspired by her research in color therapy, Cheryl realized now was the perfect time to explore alternative methods to rehabilitation in the form of an art book. 

In Color: Spectral Meditations for Healing, Cheryl’s first published book, features seven colors and their scientific healing properties and is accompanied by full-scale reproductions of original monoprints from her Otra Vox exhibition. From initial conception to physical production, Cheryl poured her soul into a labor of love that will ultimately stand the test of time. Art is so often relegated to something we can see, and not touch. Cheryl has removed that divide, and she’s only just begun. “I just wanted to try something new, something you could experience in the living room or take with you to Joshua tree with mushrooms.” —Maya Eslami. 

Inherent Bummer: Tell me about your research on color therapy. Was it always about seven colors? 

Cheryl Humphreys: Yeah. So Roland Hunt talks about the seven keys to color healing, and those colors are the seven colors of the visible spectrum.

As in, the colors we see. 

Exactly. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Some scientists mention 12 colors that are healing, but the seven really spoke to me because it is the rainbow as we know it. And it felt foundational. If I'm going to start this project – and this project still feels like just the start; it's a seed, I know it's going to grow – I like the idea of making more, adding to the colors. But the seven felt like a perfect foundation. That's just the start. And I wanted this to be for everyone. I think the idea also came from people coming into my studio over the years and describing to me that my works are really meditative. And they're meditative for me, for sure. I get into a rhythm when I'm in the studio and it's where my healing happens. So I loved hearing that [my art] transcends, but this was the first time I decided to call them meditations. They make people feel like they're meditating without even knowing it. Thinking about meditating on a color, seeing all the shades of it, all the hues of it, the dimension of it, the vibration of it. 

Did you already have this project going?

No, it was completely created here. I entered [the residency] with two different book ideas, actually, and this is the one that stuck. Color therapy felt like the right thing to be researching because I think the world more than anything right now needs healing. It's going to be a long road ahead, and healing and thinking about healing more resourcefully and alternatively really interested me.

Speaking of colors, talk to me about your process making monoprints. 

Every process starts with tearing down paper, measuring it out and tearing it down to the size that I need. And that takes me out of my mind and gets me into my body. Because it's a really physical process. And even the sound of it is so very satisfying.

What do you mean, “the sound of it?” 

I’m hand tearing everything with this metal bar that has a sharp edge.

What kind of paper do you use?

I use traditional printmaking paper most of the time. It’s affordable and takes the dye so well. It really absorbs and takes on the color like skin in this way.

How do you choose colors? 

The colors just come to me. The measuring and tearing down of paper has to be very intentional and slow. But when I get to the colors, I really just turn off my brain and let my hands do the work and trust them. And then ask myself, “How do I feel in this moment? Does it need a little more yellow?” Every dye is custom made. During this time I've also been exploring natural dyes, but for this project, because it was so much about color, and I have way more control, it had to be synthetic.

So once you did your research on color therapy, how did that influence and affect your art?

There was a period of time where I was researching, head down, highlighting what spoke to me and absorbing the information. And then when I got into the studio, it was very separate. I knew that what I learned was going to influence what my hands did in the studio. Each piece is made from a single plate that I shifted down or rotated. So as many shapes as you see within the composition, the paper was run through the press that many times. It's every wave, every line, that's as many times as it went through. It was a real practice in precision. 

Tell me about the experience of releasing the book, because you self-published, right? 

Self-published. It even has an ISBN number, which feels very professional. The plan during this time is to hopefully have appointments with some of my favorite bookstores and really get it out into the world. I love the idea of someone sitting in their living room, unwrapping it and being like, “This one speaks to me.” And reading about the color and being like, “Oh, that's why.” And having a connection with it.

It's a very personal interactive book experience. 

Oh yeah. And different days, different colors are going to speak to you. I think we're all being asked to be more intentional about everything. Every gathering, everything we're doing. Everything is so much more intentional now. I also think everyone's missing art right now. And these pieces, I don't think you can experience them on your phone.

No, you have to stand in front of them and take the colors in. Are the full-scale prints for sale?

They're not available for anyone yet. Still, like I said, they feel like the artifacts of an idea. A big idea. I'm also curious about how an unrepresented artist adds value to their work. And so this is a bit of an experiment.

How do you feel about that, being an unrepresented artist? 

I think it's cool. I think we're living in a world where a lot of artists can pave new paths and redefine how they work because for a long time that wasn’t the case. And so I think it's really exciting. It's up to me how I want to share my work, talk about it, put it out into the world. This book is definitely an experiment. I want to get my art out to my friends. I want them to be able to afford it. And I just wanted to try something new. Something you could experience in the living room or take with you to Joshua tree with mushrooms.

To learn more about In Color: Spectral Meditations for Healing, click here.

BY MAYA ESLAMI

Okay. So I don’t really like beer. It’s heavy and fills me up easily and I have to drink three of them to get a buzz. But every once in a while, especially on a sweltering day, when sweat sticks to my face and the taste of a cold lager can make me feel human again, I’ll open a Modelo. Modelo Especial. Preferably in a can that’s been left in the freezer for too long so that the sides of the aluminum slightly swell from the pressure of the liquid expanding inside. I’m familiar with beer. I dated one of those craft beer enthusiasts who dragged me around to microbreweries all over California. I’ve been in more hops rooms than I care to share. And still, at the end of the day, even after all that grooming, I prefer a pilsner-style lager that reminds me of the ocean. And maybe it’s because Modelo comes from Mexico, but the crisp flavor of the beer dripping down my throat transports me to one of those spots right along the coast in Baja where the waves lap at the warm sand and the salty breeze makes me forget about the world, if only for a moment. —Maya Eslami.

While Boredom creates the best art, music is there to pull you back into the flow.

Listen to FLOW by Maya Eslami here

(and follow our Spotify for more playlists every month).

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