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Waking Dream

Ever have one of those mornings where you awaken to an exceptionally pleasant reality? The scenario could be anything. But everything in your emergent diorama, is as a sensory massage. A persistent tap-tap-tapping drew me as a man on a rope, to emerge from a rich and multi-hued pool of color, which slid warmly across my skin, as head to toe, my body emerged into the dimness of a small room. I have dreamed in color for a long time now. It is no coincidence that in my craft as an image maker, the principle endeavor is

Art Show: Ventura

Last night was intriguing. It followed on the heels of a busy day. Robb Havassy rang me on my cel phone as I drove down Ventura Avenue, car loaded with stuff to be part of our joint installation at Michele Chapin’s, Stoneworks Gallery space. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Oh just driving down the Avenue. You?” “Just getting to your gal’s place. The boys from Surf Aid (Randall and Dr Dave) are meeting me there to pick up our stuff for the Benefit tonight. Go there.” “Okay see ya in five.” And on a beautiful Friday afternoon I meandered

Jam

I have a lot of friends who are into music. They all range in experience, depth, scope, and level of monetization. Music is one of the High Arts of course. How a person begins in any Art germinates in a fascination with it. I remember mine. Getting to play my Hawaiian Grandfathers Zither. I must have been about 6 or 7. Guitar lessons at 8. Then on to the Arts in school, where I took choir, learned to sing in church, band practice, learning to read and write music. It was part of the education process in America at the

Hyperbole

This is a little deviation from the Loves serialization. Though the subject does relate. The other night, I got roped into doing something I rarely ever endeavor. My son invited me to a “dive bar” to see him play. He had been working on creating a band to perform his music, and the never visited “hole in the wall” on a section of Ventura’s Main St, was to be ground zero for a shake down performance. Josh Slavin is the stage name for Joshua Pu’u by the way. (People keep asking me.) I usually sort of just smirk. Hyperbole is

Fore

This is number five in the series on Loves. It is actually entitled Four. (Really.) If you understand the play on words with the copy title “Fore”, well then, you “get” Art and Artists. That is a good thing. We like it when people get us. It is why artists do what they do. ART is our love. Robb Havassy just left, after a 30 hour visit. When he had arrived, I was working through a series of images where I had been subtly taken by surprise at how the ocean had sculpted rather unique looking gems my Canon 5DM2

Walking Backwards

When growth really isn’t. This was inspired by a conversation with my oldest son Joshua, as he and I were looking at what defines our paths forward. “I think a life for music is a well-spent one.” -Luciano Pavoratti What I have learned, is that the things which I embrace and implement into my life, act as filters. They color my perceptions and growth, or lack thereof. Did you know that sometimes growth is not such a great thing? I have found that often the most remarkable creative moments are happened upon by walking in place, or even backwards so

Coastal Classics Are No Accidents

A lot goes on in the creation of a commercial production shoot. This one developed over a relatively long period of time. Recently, almost by chance I had reconnected with an old colleague and friend, Glenn Gravett, who I had met when we both worked designing my own company apparel and surfboard art, decades ago. Glenn and I share much in common, having been raised on the same stretch of coastline, and share similar passions for the Ocean and Art. Over a period of months, I had been invited to sit in and contribute to a series of product development

Non Artistic Interpretation

It was only a year or two ago, when I realized that I am an “artist”. At a very young age I painted. My Father and Uncle were both painters. So as any child would, I simply took for granted that painting and drawing were normal endeavors. At 12 I had learned Photography and studied Philosophy. It was what was going on around me, and being inquisitive, I learned. So does a bird realize it is a bird? Of course, flying would not be so special to him. But to someone without wings, oh to soar! I had a request

A Bali Journal: 1

Uneventful smooth sky sailing into Bali, and here we are in one of the most beautiful locations I have ever seen. David Booth and Sam Holcomb of East Bali Poverty project “get it” when “it” means hospitality apparently. The villa they arranged for us to rent in Ubud is far and away the most amazing location I have shot in. I will save the description for the images which hopefully I can scare up time to post. Long days ahead. Colorful and bright, dark and pulsating, with a richness that one from a society with less dimension, would appreciate and

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