www.thesealife.com.au
Persistence of Radness Salvador Dalí was one clued up cat. On top of rocking what has to have been one of the sweetest mo’s to have ever graced an upper lip, he also knew his way around a watch. He melted the little suckers.
He was no slave to time. Dalínean time isn’t caught up in the rigidity and precision of science. Dalí argued that time is widely variable to our perception. Time is our slave.
Think about it, when your attention is all absorbed in the things you love, doesn’t ‘time fly’? When you are mired in boredom, doesn’t ‘time drag’? The speed of time depends on us, what we choose to do with it.
Here at Alas, we love to surf, but there are a whole lot of other ways that we
like to make ‘time fly’. My wife and I spent this past winter sampling the delights of a
French summer. The Sea Life posse was there too but they heard we were going in July
and chose August instead. The south west of France will really test your ability to make ‘time fly’, with the sun not setting till the inconceivably late time of 10: 30pm.
Making five surfs in a day a very realistic amount of time in the juice. Tom Wegener
also likes to play around with time, bringing the past into the present and shaping the
future. Imagine if he made watches. They would be all wooden and cool looking. And if you thought that The Yeti’s moustache might have come from another era, you just might be right. Turns out he knows a whole bunch about time travel but somehow he
still found the time to pen a thoughtful chat he had with Ryan Bridges about his vision for board production. This
issue is a celebration of people that stick it to the clock by putting their time to good use. So peruse, enjoy and then go melt some time you shabby little surf rats.
Cover Shot:Simon Perini This Page: Simon Perini
editor
art director/chief designer
designer
image director
senior writer
contributing photographers
contributing writers
SIMON PERINI, MATT JOHNSON (THE SEA LIFE) NATHAN OLDFIELD, HILTON, AARON GIRGIS, TOM WEGENER, KATIE MCKERIHAN
TOM WEGENER, DAVID RASTOVICH
contact AZA.PLK@GMAIL.COM website COMING SOON Alas Magazine tries to be published when it can be, unfortunately good things take time and in our case cost money. Any contributions should be sent to aza.plk@gmail.com. And any complaints should be supressed, you shouldn’t complain (it’s bad for your blood pressure). Thank you to everyone who supports us. Love.
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makiaclothing.com
sugarmillsurf.com The Sugarmill’s Coffee + Cookie chonoski.blogspot.com Rugged up at home enjoying the copious amounts of soup your mother made to last you through the season, you need something to watch. TV has failed us all. Flip the lid on the lappie and keep abreast of the adventures of Chono and pals as they shred their life away webisode style. There’s enough steez here to have you leaping from the doona and reaching for the sled no matter how low the mercury drops.
nikitaclothing.com
When the northern beaches are mentioned my mind wanders off to a land of milk and honey and this has nothing to do with the seemingly endless stretch of rippable beachies. I’m talking coffee and cookies babycakes. Nothing fuels an all day shred sesh like this tasty duo and with all proceeds going to the Mills non-for-profit arm, Misfit Aid, they are truly charitylicious. Waxhead Diaries
Nikita - jeans
Finish brand Makia have teamed up with the boys from Urchin (instigators of the oh so epic charity concept Movember) to collaborate on a range. Urchin took it a step further by coming back with six ranges, leaving you and I as the warm and fuzzy winners.
Ladies, say hi to Nikita denim. They are sexy, savvy and warmer than shorts. They have our vote. If only they made them for men so we didn’t have to keep stealing them from the misses.
Makia - threads
Bringing the Heat this Winter.
Quit basking in the safety and warmth of the past. Summer is so last season. Winter’s cold clammy hands are reaching out for us but don’t flinch, embrace. Threads and beverages of the warm persuasion are the order of the season. Alas’s Top 5 point you in the direction of a winter wonderland:
HAM Harry and Mario’s has heaters hamharryandmario.com There are no excuses for not making like a baby and heading out for a warm bevie in Cronulla during the colder months. HAM’s heaters and blankies and extension of indoor seating have got you covered, so you can get on with enjoying your heavenly hot cup of joe, hot choc or chai-frappesoy-latte-chino. Boom.
Cut throat. Money. Business. Labels. Distance. Uncertainty. These are just a few words that come to mind when I think about the surf industry. I’ve come to understand it is an entity that has its pros and cons. Yet the pros are getting harder to find, while the cons seem to increasing at the rate of rabbits with access to the back catalogue of Barry White. Engaged. Involved. Mateship. Help. Encouragement. Local. These are just a few words that come to mind when I think about a surf community. This happens in and out of the water. It’s what gives surfers their start, pro or punter. Whether it’s friendly rivalry or all out competition, the surf community is the base.
This understanding of the surf community was reinforced after I sat down with Ryan Bridges of RB Shapes fame to talk about life as a shaper. I realised how much drive it requires to jump in that game. For Bridgy, who has been shaping now for 15 years, there is a definite passion for the Cronulla surfing community.
the sentimental family where everyone wears beige turtle necks. Or the dysfunctional family with the uncle who tells the kids jokes that would make a sailor blush. Instead, it’s just a group of guys and girls who encourage each other in doing something they all love. Bridgy has tapped into that, especially when you bring up the BoardJam.
What started as a means to provide better boards for his friends, shaping is now Bridgy’s livelihood. Yet the approach of shaping for mates still forms the core of Bridgy’s approach as he believes it to form “…a more productive working partnership.” It was refreshing to hear a shaper view his craft as a collaboration. It’s this attitude that provides a surfer with a board that will work for them. Not a board that the shaper thinks will suit the rider.
The BoardJam is the perfect reaction to the surf industry and its ability to confuse and mislead the surfer. It is an opportunity for surfers to test run Bridgy’s range of shapes so that the surfer is given a complete understanding of how different boards provide different experiences.
When asked about the direction of RB Shapes, Bridgy answer was simple. RB Shapes is “…to be free from that ‘industry thing’, I want it to be an honest reflection of ME, but also of US!” This can be seen in his desire to have others involved in the process. Whether it be the contribution of ideas, designs, photography… in the end it creates an atmosphere of belonging whereby people want to be a part of it. The result of this direction is a family. Not
For Bridgy, the BoardJam is about getting people interested and getting people enthusiastic in the possibilities offered by the custom surfboard process. Yet it was Bridgy who put it best… “I think it’s important to re-establish that relationship with a shaper and be able to get proper advice. I think there is an important place for a shaper in the community and I feared that would disappear a few years ago.” What is impressive is that instead of sitting around and complaining about all that is wrong in the surfing industry, Bridgy is actively seeking to improve the surfing community.
Although it is cliché, communication is the key to a good relationship. And the BoardJam is an opportunity for communication between the shaper and the surfer. But it isn’t just about Bridgy showing how his designs are the only way to go. Rather, it’s about listening to surfer’s responses. When I asked Bridgy what a job well done meant for him, he put it down to feedback from the surfer. “I guess for any artist or craftsman working in any genre, it’s not an ego boost, but it just underpins, or confirms, what you are doing is on the right path…’people get you!’ That feels good and it gives you the confidence to move forward.” It is the insight provided by the surfer that becomes an important part of the shaping process. “I try and translate people’s feedback into design elements” was Bridgy’s reply. Bridgy added, “As big as having the ability to make a good surfboard is having the knowledge and the ability and the interest to translate people’s problems into a better surfboard.” It is this element of shaping that is overlooked in the mass production of boards. Where boards aren’t shaped for a particular person or a particular location by someone interested in the local surfing community.
As understood by Bridgy, “Where you’re surfing and the waves you’re surfing in design is as important as an individual person, so you do need to set up locally. And you see that in the variation in styles from different places. That sort of thing is getting diluted the more boards are massed produced…things become generic.” It is the movement to generic that removes community from surfing. Creativity ceases to exist on a level that continues to inspire individuality. I am not trying to be sensationalist, but there is something special about different beaches having different community personalities when it comes to surfing. And a part of such a personality is how people surf. It is within this environment where a shapers existence is critical.
What I know understand is that there is a balance. A balance between business and community. Bridgy has geared RB Shapes towards providing an involved and responsive service to Cronulla surfers, who are the lifeblood of his passion. There was a standout moment in the interview that made me sit up. The quote that I was looking for. Bridgy remarked “I think I’m a surfer before I’m a shaper.” And it’s true. Bridgy is the guy in the water, not the guy behind the register. He is the shaper that you can see and talk to. Not the one who is always too busy to have a chat. And he is the guy who cares about the community that he lives and works in. Not the guy just keen to make a quick buck.
I learnt a lot from my chat with Bridgy. I can sometimes fly off on a tangent, especially when it comes to the surf industry and having to pay $80 for a pair of boardies. But Bridgy grounded me a bit. Bridgy understands the positives of the industry. “…you do need it, it does help in terms of providing a platform for building a company…and it gives you standards to work towards. But at the same time it’s the reason I went overseas, the cliché of it all.”
Words: Yeti Photo: Matt Johnson
Warren Smith has spent extended periods away from the ocean. Assuming that the vocation on his passenger card reads “professional surfer� this may seem strange. We here at Alas prefer to think of it as well balanced. A six month stint in the Big Apple with fellow alt-shredder Dion Agius did nothing to hamper his media profile thanks to regular posts of high quality imagery accompanied by curiously abstract script upon their blog proxynoise.com. Check out their new online rag, dropping on a monthly basis, maybe. A man of such varied interests and inspirations (Do yourself a favour and search out his top ten tunes on Your Weekend Should Sound Like This... Required listening, sure to give you an eargasm) would be wasted if asked such a mundane question as his five favourite surf spots. Surfing is a given. This is how Warren Smith, international man of mystery, spends time whilst high and dry...
Words: Aaron Roberts Photo: Aaron Girgis
1. Watch beetlejuice
2. Watch the goonies
3. Listen to the song so young by suede 4. Sew my friends skin together
5. Drink energy drinks Simple as that.
Words: Tom Wegener and Rasta Photos: Nathan Oldfield and Hilton
In ancient times, the Olo was reserved for the royalty of Hawaii. This is why surfing is called, “The sport of kings.” At the time of the darkest ages for surfing in Hawaii, around the 1830’s, High Chief Paki would turn his back on the Western ways and paddle his Olo out to Waikiki when the surf was at its biggest (which is actually pretty big). Chief Pakis daughter kept her father’s boards as she watch the decline of her people and heritage. The boards were given to the Bishop Museum, which she founded. Tom Blake restored the boards in the 1920’s and was inspired by how well the boards rode. He made a 16-foot board that he called an Olo and Duke Kahanamoku did the same. The Olo was Dukes favourite board and he rode it into his grey years. Blake took the feel of the Olo and tried to make it lighter with hollow wood boards. Then he put a fin on a hollow board and sparked a change in surfing.
I saw High Chief Paki’s Olos in the Bishop Museum in 2004. I made a replica and was enormously impressed with how it rides, though difficult and demanding. Rasta road my Olo in 2008 in perfect conditions during a Cyclone swell. He was way off shore and caught a monster swell and road it around a headland for a kilometre. He ordered one upon reaching the shore.
First step is to call your old mate Karl Seahouse and tag the biggest Paulownia tree in his plantation. (Tom had to wait two years for a tree worthy of the cause-SM)
Karl then delivers three enormous slabs up from Kempsy, New South Whales. The ancient Hawaiian legends speak of a series of ceremonies of giving thanks during each step of the board building process. We follow these instructions. The slabs are four inches thick and we need to glue them together to make a six and one half inch thick blank. We cut four 6 ½ “ x 4” lengths from the slabs and glue them together. Later we add two 2’ x 4” by four inch lengths along the sides to finish getting our rail width.
We make a full rocker template for the board. When I say “we” I mean myself and Toom Sumers, who came to my house to learn about wood surfboards. He is a Lutier ( a violin maker in ways of old in Belgium). The Olo has the same curve on the top and bottom so that when you paddle it, the nose actually rolls down. We put the huge blank on the router table and start whittling away. A lot of wood has to come off. Fortunately Rasta comes to help out. It is very helpful to have a superman around when it comes to lifting heavy things like 90 kilos of wood and hand sawing through 6 inches of solid wood to cut the template.
4.Once the thickness is right, it is time to cut the template. When I am happy with the outline, I spray paint the rails blue so I can see our rail progress more clearly. Also I draw a centreline in the middle of the rail all the way around the board and then line onequarter inch above and below the centre line. The deck and bottom curves are still burned into my mind from when I saw the original Olos in Hawaii. I make templates for each bevel cut. You cannot get a lump in a board like this because it will never come out. It takes a lot of work to get each bevel. We have two power planers going at the same time for hours and then three hand planes doing the finishing touches.
Finally both sides are rolled down to the lines marking the center of rail and there is a half inch band of blue around the board. The rail of the Olo is a sharp delicate knife that needs to perfectly straight or the board will look crooked. We leave just a 3mm blue band around the board when we begin fine sanding. After fine sanding down to 600 grit, we sand the blue off.
This all happened just before the Noosa Festival began. I take the bamboo shaping shed from my driveway to the contest site and set up Wegener Surfboards at the beach. The Olo takes up most of the shed. We celebrate and give thanks again as the board is oiled for the first time. I use a mix of raw linseed oil, gum turpentine and apple cider vinegar. The board is oiled many times over the next four days.
Finally, Rasta cannot wait anymore and pulls the board out for its first surf. It takes four strong men to carry the board to the water. Both Rasta and I have read many of the old Hawaiian legends of surfing and we chuckle over one story. Once a westerner wanted to talk to a Hawaiian chief. He was told the chief was surfing and he would have to wait for him to come out of the ocean. He asked, “How will I know which person is the chief?� The Hawaiian answered that the chief will be the only one not carrying a surfboard.
Before you go and throw yourself into the deep blue yonder with your mitts wrapped around 16feet of log, Dave Rastovich wants you to read this: The OLO. I have to write OLO in capitals as this surfboard is an entity that demands full attention, respect and a healthy amount of fear perhaps. My first go out on an OLO was with Tom Wegener at an outer sand bombie that was breaking deep-water style with a strong off shore wind and lip lines that were easily over head. My first attempt at a wave saw me
dragged fifty yards or so while lying down. The nose of the board well and truly down the face of the wave, the mid section up on the lip, and me bear hugging the tail way over the back of the wave unable to see anything. I was also laughing so hard because this was something I truly had never experienced in surfing and was so stoked to feel like an absolute novice, being humbled.
My next wave was far smoother. I got to my feet, rode for a short while and then the wave backed off. I had about eight seconds of standing time and that was enough to feel out the basics of riding the OLO. To me these basics are still in place whenever I ride the OLO- * Stand as far back on the board as possible. * Bend the back leg, but keep the front leg almost straight, so that as much weight as possible is on the back leg. * Despite the OLO’s size it is very very sensitive. DO NOT make any quick or wobbly adjustments to weight or positioning without focusing all sense capabilities. * Be on alert for any sudden direction changes or bumps rolling over the nose and down through your legs. After figuring out these basics of riding the next one I got went for over a couple hundred yards or so! The OLO carried me through deep blue unbroken water a really long way. From there I was hooked. A year later, Tom got enough Pawlonia wood to make another OLO, this one for me. Sharp rails and beautiful timber and just as beautifully intimidating as the first OLO I encountered. I paddled the board from the Cove at Noosa, all the way out to outside Granites and managed to get around six or eight waves on the new OLO, every wave teaching me more and more about this deceptively complex craft. I swam a lot, got dragged in the white water for hundreds of metres on my belly and generally got quite beat up. But the feeling on those six or so waves...... just standing on the tail with around fourteen feet of board in front of me, plowing through chop and gliding through deep blue water is too good to describe in words.
I then brought the OLO down to my home area and managed a few days out at the deep-water bombie off Cape Byron. This is where I continue to ride the OLO but only when it is big enough and there is no one around. On my go outs there I have learnt the following *DO NOT SURF AN OLO NEAR ANYBODY!!!!!!!! It is too dangerous! If you nose dive (pearl), stay under water until you either see or hear the OLO come back down into the water. Most times after nose diving the board will shoot out the back of the wave clearing the water completely before crashing down with immense force! You don’t want to get brained by the OLO. I would just sit on the bottom with my eyes to the surface and wait a few seconds until I saw it flat on the surface or heard the big bass slap of it coming back down on the water.
* Sit with the board a little further out than usual so you can gather momentum before catching the wave. * Take off on an angle, similar to Alaia’s so you are already going in the right direction. * Be ready to go with the OLO wherever it wants to go. You can subtly steer it, but usually you are just a passenger. * Stretch before and after every session, as you are using muscles that you never even knew you had. *Have friends around so you can share in the stoke of actually making a wave, to help you with carrying it in and out of the water and also to keep an eye on you. * Be ready to swim a lot. * Do not assume the ride is over until the OLO completely comes to a stop, momentum is one of the greatest things about the OLO. * Give thanks to the ancient surfers who had the oceanic understanding to create surfboards, and a culture based around this amazing experience of riding waves.
* Acknowledge that the experience we have while surfing comes from their inspiring lives and deep connection to the ocean and all things. Give Thanks. This is my current experience with the OLO but this will no doubt change and develop
as more water time comes. In no way should my way of riding be taken as ‘the way’ to approach the OLO but I have been asked to share my experiences and so I feel here I have done this. .
dr
Paris, a city where the clichéd attractions can leave you empty and wholly unsatisfied, whilst an abundance of its unrecognizable laneways showers you with a deep amusement and joy. A city where women do not give up riding bikes at the age of twelve, they continue to ride, whilst wearing lovely dresses. It is not training, it is transport, it is life. The men also ride, not in Lycra, in tailored suits. Modern and old thrive side by side as a couple in love, profiting from the new, with awareness that modernity does not always equal progress. Its inhabitants dine regularly, slowly, savouring simplicity, conscious of the details. Sweets are never far from ones lips in Paris, yet large people are not the norm. I put this down to an obsession with ingredients of only the utmost freshness, perhaps also an affinity for tobacco. Perhaps lung cancer is their curse. Je ne sais pas. At first glance every building looks
“Bonsoir” I announce confidently. “You know we speak English”, he tells me in an assuring tone.
the same, yet what a thrill to the eye, so instantly French, so intricately detailed on closer inspection. Doors of aged, yet dazzling white, red, blue, adorned with an array of ornaments. Every corner seeps with history and not all is fenced and requiring a ticket. Much of it is walked upon, sat on, a part of everyday coming and going that unwittingly enriches the present without us even needing to remember. It is simply clear that you are part of something bigger. Expect to be shamed for your ignorance but not rudely nor intentionally. I offer a meager effort at conversation with two black kids who live above the apartment we are staying in that sits beside the Notre Dame Cathedral. “Bonsoir” I announce confidently. “You know we speak English”, he tells me in an assuring tone. This is followed by a detailed conversation, in English. Be prepared to state your thoughts on Existentialism, it could come up over coffee. Particularly at Café du Flore, the watering hole of Existentialism. Its tables and chairs spill out on to the sidewalk of the uber chic St Germaine Blvd. I try to picture Sartre, De Beauvoir, Hemingway, Capote and other literary greats here, honing their craft, arguing their philosophy over Absinthe and espresso. I can’t. The prices are large, the servings miniscule. I mourn the abuse of such greats names being used to sell overpriced beverages and wonder where the poor yet great minds of Paris now frequent. A Gypsy-ish looking woman boards the metro and begins to squeal out an atrocious excuse for a song. With my limited understanding of French I manage to make out that the gist of the ditty is a request for money. I consider the inclusion of the request for money into the actual song lyrics to be an all time low and view her as a blight on the otherwise rich landscape of high quality buskers that inhabit the streets and subways of Paris. At the completion of her aural assault she begins combing the train, erratically shaking a cup containing what sounds like a few coins. It must have been her float for the day, as I highly doubt that her screeching had achieved any Euros. She stops before me with her paper cup outstretched. I ask her if she knows Baby Got Back by Sir Mixalot. She eyes me suspiciously. I do not reach for my wallet. She turns and rattles off down through the carriage. I reach into my bag, grab my ipod and head straight for Sir Mixalot.
Last night we walked her streets (Paris is definitely a ‘she’). A band played above the Seine on one of the bridges that link the little island that houses the Notre Dame to the rest of Paris. Couples danced energetically, whilst tourists watched on with a mixture of joy and envy. An elderly woman danced alone, her hands groping tightly
At the completion of her aural assault she begins combing the train, erratically shaking a cup containing what sounds like a few coins. It must have been her float for the day, as I highly doubt that her screeching had achieved any Euros. She stops before me with her paper cup outstretched. I ask her if she knows Baby Got Back by Sir Mixalot. She eyes me suspiciously. I do not reach for my wallet. She turns and rattles off down through the carriage. I reach into my bag, grab my ipod and head straight for Sir Mixalot.
at the dense, humid air. Her smile depicted no sense of loneliness. The city swayed with her affectionately. Paris would deny none of its inhabitants love. Pronounced in a snooty French accent, “There is absolutely nothing to see in Hossegor. Nothing!” So declares an adamant teenage female Parisian to her equally teenage Parisian friend who is picking her up from the bustling Gare de Lyon train station in Paris. Having just spent a thoroughly enjoyable few days in the region the
The water was warm and the new wave of French grommies flew with the sort of pop and panache that such punchy beachbreaks breed. Capbreton is D’bah with baguettes post surf rather than meat pies.
statement makes me chuckle but not necessarily because I disagree. If you are not an aficionado of the slide or its generally associated activities, such as lazing at the beach, chilling at your crib or devouring delicious food and beverages thanks to a ravenous hunger brought on by copious amounts of cycling and paddling, do not bother with Hossegor. Nor its most closely neighbouring towns. You should bother with Biarritz though. It is gorgeous, with waves to boot. In Hossegor, everything from the bars, to the cafes, to retail is drenched with the global salty essence of surf culture. Despite being there in July, usually July and August are notorious for flat spells, the waves barely dropped below three feet for over two weeks. Capbreton proved reliable on every tide, unloading corduroy peaks on shallow hard packed sand banks. If a wave didn’t barrel then you aired. If you didn’t air then you pulled in. The water was warm and the new wave of French grommies flew with the sort of pop and panache that such punchy beachbreaks breed. Capbreton is D’bah with baguettes post surf rather than meat pies. Surely future stars prowl these waters. Gold poured from my mouth and spilled gently into my lap, much like the cover of Santogold’s debut album. I stared in wonder but my focus was interrupted. “Stu! Stu! Stu!” Suddenly that gold dust was replaced with a vile liquid spattered with odd pieces of seafood from my fruits de la mer’ pizza the night before. Breathing swiftly and deeply, I started to regain consciousness and took stock of my surroundings. I am in Biarritz hospital. Two nurses ask me whether I am all right. “Ça va, ça va”, I reply through deep relieving breathes. Everything had been tracking along so splendidly. Biarritz is one of the most devastatingly beautiful towns that I have ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. Tight cobblestone streets full of boutiques and cafes funnel down the hills towards a glistening blue ocean with a bustling golden beach ringed by rugged cliffs and dotted with enormous boulders that rise menacingly from the ocean’s surface. The tide swings are wild. Many of those enormous boulders become completely submerged on the higher tide, including the swell if it is not big enough. Word to the wise, check the conditions regularly. What was one-foot onshore slop one morning morphed into 4-6 feet of offshore bliss by the afternoon. The south corner of La Grande Plage, which I had pegged as kiddies corner was serving up a grinding left wedge. The swell would wrap around a rocky outcrop, splitting the peak and then ricochet tasty lumps of sidewash off the cliff face that would run all the way to the sand. This was my last surf for four days as the nastiest virus that has ever invaded my scrawny frame sent me to hospital for two days. In this time I sent fluids flying from both ends with such ferocity that I would fall unconscious whilst the bile kept coming. After six bags of drips and a lot of rest I was back on the croissants and in the water.
Technology has promised so much. Time, effortlessness, a better life even. Now I’m no prophet of doom, I prefer to ride the positive train myself, but after fifty years or so of post-war materialism delivering a whole lot of heaviness and not a heap less stress, I’m a little sceptical. I like the sound of simple. Simon Perini wields a Simple Machine. Not because he is incapable of operating heavy machinery. He wields his Simple Machine with the distinct flair of a true artisan. Simon has been cooking up some tasty frames for a while and Alas is really digging the flavour. If you hadn’t already picked the style, Simon is the man responsible for the dreamy shot adorning this issue. Meet the man behind the lens or lense depending on which dictionary you ref.
Have you always loved film or is it just a way to stand out from the swath of other digi-fiends? Yeah, I have always really loved film. Not quite sure why. I remember when I was young, my Dad was a bit of a hobbie snapper and there was just something intoxicating to me about the clunk of the heavy shutter, dust on the lens and the smell of the leather case and then the mystery of what was gonna come out. And for some kooky reason, they still seem to be some of the things that I am drawn to about photography. I also love how film has this colour and a texture that you kinda lose a bit with digital. Plus, I love its unpredictability; there’s something about the journey with film that I’m pretty addicted to. I still use digital and really appreciate its accuracy and convenience – it’s pretty cool to live in an age where we have both mediums available to us.
Film seems to lend your images a very distinct mood and character. I like to correlate my wardrobe according to my mood. Does your own mood affect the images? Say, if you are feeling angered, does a red hue show? Blue when feeling down? Haha, I’d like to say yes, but I don’t think my mood has that big an affect on my work. However, I think my personality probably does play a bit of a part in it. I have a really blessed life and enjoy so much of the goodness and beauty there is around us, so I think that I probably subconsciously want to capture that appreciation I have through my photos.
This issue of Alas is dedicated to melting time. Reeling in that rascally phenomenon and rec ours. How do you feel this relates to photography, yours in particular? One of the things I love about photography is the ability to hold a single moment in time an just be able to absorb it. Especially when shooting something as fluid and momentous as s ment in time that is unique and will never be the same ever again. And then it’s such a rush combine to make that moment something even more unique and special – a dude pulling a while the sun rises, while a trawler returns home and a person walks their dog.
You clearly are an aficionado of the slide. What areas of the culture interest you and what floats your boat when you’re landlocked? Wow, would never have described myself as an aficionado of the slide! But thanks. Um I think everything about the riding of surf craft appeals to me – the energy and humility I get from being in the sea, feeling it and moving with it, the laughter and community with others, salt on the skin, the smell of a wetsuit to name a few. I’m just simply stoked on the aesthetic of surfing. When I’m landlocked I love to work on my other creative pursuits, hang with the Mrs and pals or just take in a movie.
claiming what is rightly
nd let it stand still, and surfing. It’s that moh when all the elements a tight bottom turn,
If the punters want to pick up some of your timeless pics, where should they be heading? It’s easy to contact me via the blog: HYPERLINK "http://simplemachine.tumblr.com/" http://simplemachine.tumblr.com/ Or you can pick up a framed print hanging on one of the walls in Finbox or Rhombus surf shop
Thanks for having me!
Ozzy Wrong.
Words: Stuart Mckerihan Photos: Aaron Roberts
Sounds like: Ozzy had way too much fun on his last trip to Bali.
Album: Ozzy Wrongs Ukulele Songs Check out: ‘Awesomeness Rocks’ ‘New Clothes’ ‘Mumma Wants To Go Surfing’ Listen to it: If you are feeling down, it will cheer you up. If you are feeling up then it will cause outrageous bursts of joyful sing-a-longs. Much like wearing a poncho, it is impossible to be sad whilst listening to this album. Ozzy’s lyrical genius is the real highlight of this album. Here are some gems: “I want to spend more time being awesome and I want to spend less time being awkward because awkwardness sucks and awesomeness it rocks.” “She could be wearing a werewolf suit. Hairy and mean she could still look cute, cause of the magic voodoo in her eyes.” “You should see the looks that she flashes in the mirror. Man it makes me jealous, I wish I was the mirror.” “Nazi Fascists who used to hang men. Have put down their nooses and learned to hang ten.” “Never trust a bikey if he don’t drink beer…. He’ll meditate in your garden with his boots done tight. It’s ANZAC Day and Two Up, he’s havin’ an early night.” “Beware of the Vampirates… They’ll kick you in the head with their pointed boots. Transylvanian with Caribbean roots.” “Things that are dead… cattle who tried to escape but their legs caught in those grates.”
Wavves.
Sounds like: Nathan Williams cottoned on to the fact that surf influenced tunes are like so totally hot right now and decided to write some really catchy little ditties that are way more fun than experimental noise sound scapes. Albums: Wavves/ Wavvves/ King Of The Beach Check out: ‘So Bored’ ‘King Of The Beach’ ‘Post Acid’ ‘Convertible Balloon’ Listen to it: When your beach is in the burbs. It’s a blown out summer afternoon and you and your buddies are bored and hanging out in the garage and decide to start a band. This is what it should sound like. Droning overdriven vocals screech from the speakers, backed by a cacophony of guitar fuzz, zany noises and awkward percussion. Not immediately engaging but interesting, I thought. I look around. Babies are crying. Shoppers throw their hands to their ears, mouthing to each other, “What is this crap?” My boss screams at me. “Stu! Is this yours?” He storms out the back, rips the album from the stereo and frisbees the disc out the backdoor. The album was Wavvves. I believed this would be the last time a Wavves album would play in my workplace. Then Wavves released a new album. What the hell, I thought. I popped it in the stereo, cheekily awaiting another barrage of baby tears. Crunching percussion led the way but then the guitars shimmered and melody oozed. Babies bopped their heads. Shoppers stamped their feet approvingly. My boss took his aggression out elsewhere. King Of The Beach is less onshore slop and more pop but still rough enough around the edges to conjure images of the Beach Boys becoming pissed off with their commercialised origins and starting a punk band.
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An Informed Piece of Journalism about Movement Through Time.
It’s not uncommon for me to create a scenario in my head. It’s how I plan things before they happen. Sort of like a blueprint for how I see something panning out. Because we all know that if you fail to plan, you plan to fail! Remember that one kids. Now, many of these scenarios revolve around me meeting girls. I think it’s safe to say you knew that one was coming, and for the sake of my younger audience, I’ll just leave it there. But, at this moment I’m more concerned with the movement through time. Actually, that’s an all out lie, the ladies come first, but time travel does rank pretty high on my list of things to ponder.
The last thing you need is to get sick in another time dimension due to incorrect clothing selection. You think it’s bad when you drink the water in another country and spend the rest of the trip in the thunder box. Well times that by one thousand and that’s what it will be like. Just like that. Secondly, try not to get in trouble with the law. You won’t have any identification with you, on account of the whole naked thing. And if you do, it’s going to be all confusing. I think Queensland I.D’s are weird, imagine coming across one from 200 years in the future. But if you do, the only option you will have is to shoot your way out. So try and have a good knowledge of weaponry from spears and arrows, right through to light sabers and laser guns.
Ok, with time travel you really only have two scenarios. The first is that you are sent back in time because you need to protect someone as the survival of the world depends on their existence (Terminator). The second is that you are just doing it for fun (Back to the Future). Join me as we look at the real issues. Clothing is a big one. According to the sources, two things are likely to happen. You will either turn up naked or sporting inappropriately dated clothing. Now I’m not going to say which one is worse, but it’s safe to say that if someone runs up to you ranting about how they are from the past or the future and their junk is all up in your space, would you be listening to their warnings of approaching death? Didn’t think so. So the first step is to find some clothes. Try and have some knowledge of clothing store locations prior to commencing time travel.
It gets a little complicated though when romance leads to babies. Yeah sure, if you time it right, you could go back in time and have a kid, then that kid could be your best friend. How that relationship would work I don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is this. Just imagine what it would be like for a kid to rock up on your door saying you’re his father. That would be pretty heavy. Ok, now just think what it would be like for a fifty year old bloke to rock up at your parent’s house when you are ten and start going on about how you are his dad. I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell didn’t have the money to pay child support for a grown man when I was ten.
What do I mean by movement through time I hear you ask? Well, in this informed piece of journalism I’m going to apply my logic and countless hours of research to issues that you will most likely come across if faced with the scenario of time travel. My research is based on two true stories. Terminator and Back to the Future. Now, the danger here is that some people might not have seen these documentaries. In such a case, you guys are pretty much screwed in the event of any movement through time. Don’t come crawling back to me when you are faced with a situation, which could permanently change the course of the world and result in devastation, like hot pants never being invented. I swear if any of you make me live in a world without hot pants I will kick your arse.
Speaking of party zones, the issue of romance is a big one. Both of my sources address it in detail. Back to the Future, on two levels. It seems that romance is ok. What is to be avoided is romance with your mum. So if you only take one thing from this article, let it be this. IF YOU GO BACK IN TIME, DON’T HIT ON YOUR MUM! It’s that simple. Something that wrong would surely make the universe explode, or at least you will be born without genitals.
Now probably the most important challenge you will face is getting back home. And yes, you have to go back because not doing so will result in a world sans hot pants and then I will make your life hell.
“How am I planning on getting there in the first place?” This is important because it determines if you should or shouldn’t go. In such a case as travelling back in time with someone else, make sure you know them well. If some stranger with a beard wearing any kind of overcoat drives up to you in the street in a van and offers to take you back in time, it is safe to say he has not mastered the art of time travel. In such a case, I would be running. If, however, you know them and can vouch for their merit as a scientist, it’s party time. Time travel is all about stranger danger. Likewise, if your friends decide that you are the one that needs to go back in time to say, battle a killer machine, ask yourself some important questions. Like, “Is this just an elaborate plan to get me naked and embarrass me?” Or, “Are these really my friends if they are sending me back in time to a near certain death?” I know I’ve had to ask myself these questions in the past, and I’m glad I did. Thanks to my vigilance I’m still alive and to the best of my knowledge, no one has footage of my party zone.
So, if you are in a Back to the Future scenario, there is a good chance something will break and your time machine will be as useful as tits on a bull. This is the point when all those ‘wasted’ hours spent watching MacGyver will come in handy. So once you stop laughing at that epic mullet, get down to business. Just messing. MacGyver was really full of %$#@. Instead of sitting in front of the TV, you should have been hanging out with your crazy neighborhood scientist learning about time travel. The joke is on you. So just don’t lose the smart person. It’s the only way. If you are in a Terminator style situation, well, you are pretty much rooted and I hate to say this but you are most likely going to die. Sorry. But you knew the score. You can die happy though in the knowledge that you delayed the world’s destruction and you got to have some B-grade romantic times with your friends mum. And in the end, isn’t that what time travel is all about. REVENGE!
Time:
SALVADOR DALI
May 11, 1904 - January 23, 1989