Showing posts from March, 2009

Elizabeth Pepin

Everywhere I click online at the moment, seems to bring me back to the same name, Elizabeth Pepin. She's created a series of photographs, called Waterwomen, which questions the stereotypes of women who surf.

But instead of creating my own little blurb about her, I'm just going to give you some of the links to interviews and articles relating back to her Waterwomen series that I think are interesting.

Here are her Waterwomen images online.

Here are her photos and an interview on Jettygirl.

And here is another smart profile.

She also made a film (which I am still yet to see!) called One Winter Story about Sarah Gerhardt.

And you know what..? I don't actually reckon Nat would have a problem with any of this at all!

Someone sort that woman out!!

Friends of mine were talking to an uncle on the beach the other day and, during the course of the conversation, mentioned me and the things I tend to write about. And look, I don't know exactly what they said, but my girlfriend was shocked when the elderly gent (that I've never met) got a little riled at my ideas and affirmed in no uncertain terms that my opinions in no way dovetailed with his and suggested that,

She should talk to Nat Young. He'd sort her out!

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! HA! HA! HA!!!!

I nearly broke a rib laughing when she told me.

And I'm not sure which I find funnier - the idea that I need 'sorting out' or the suggestion that Nat's the man to do it!!

My friend was really annoyed at his reaction and gave him a serve back for his trouble. As she walked away Old Mate Uncle turned to her boyfriend and berated him, I wish you'd give me warning when she's gonna go off like that!Wow! What a keeper!

My old friend, Albert Einstein

Years ago, I bought a postcard of Albert Einstein, and it has lived on my various walls ever since. I don't know how it has remained such a part of my days, but somehow it always manages to survive each move and make it intact to the next place, and the next, and the next...

Apparently, it was his response to a photographer's request for a smile and it makes me laugh and is a reminder not to take myself too seriously...

Inspiration is one of those mysterious and exciting things that defies explanation and can be found in the most unusual places. Like a postcard.

Anyway, as of this morning Albert has a new home...

He now sits amongst my newer postcard acquisitions, photos of my nieces and nephews, and my (highly distracting) outlook over the pool and the river.

Welcome, Albert.

Jim Devevan - drawing lines in the sand

I was watching Thread at home last night while I made dinner (Spanakopita - YUM!)...

Well, actually, I was skipping through most of it to get to the section below. And yeah, I know you've probably seen this too, but watch it again. It's rad.

Jim Denevan's creations are a-ma-zing! I mean, I struggle to draw a circle freehand on a piece of paper - the two ends never quite seem to link up when I do it - but he makes such enormous scale works on sand!! Sigh. And the patience required to make such beautiful and such momentary art is admirable.

Surfing Sucks: Don't Try It


I just watched this short film called Surfing Sucks: Don't Try It over at I Just Surf (thanks!)...

Surfing Sucks: Don't Try It from Tyler Capehart on Vimeo.

Yeah, some of it is a little cliche, but mostly I think it's pretty cool. There's a lot of ideas in there too...

The environmental issues, and the resulting conflicts of interest between tourism and surfers seem to dovetail and are shown as being complex. Because surfing communities do have complex relationships to places. Especially when it comes to industry and employment and the environment.

And I thought it was interesting when the lady with the short, blonde hair (I didn't get her name - sorry!) explains how the opening of the surf shop introduced "true surfing culture" to Tybee Island. Is there such a thing? Is there "true" surfing culture? The commercial interests might say differently, but I don't reckon there is. My friends have loads of different ways that they surf - differe…

Hurling sand

Sometimes, when I'm bored, or procrastinating, and need something to laugh at I go and have a look over the RealSurf forums. I think they're generally pretty lame to be perfectly honest, but they always give me something to mull over as I sit and stare out the window at the river.

I went over there yesterday and found a couple of posts (this one, and this one) that really made me laugh. They're about 'girls' being bullies in the water. SO? I reckon it's funny how upset guys get when a woman tells them off or acts aggressive in the water. Yeah, woman can be nightmares too - pushy, selfish, threatening and mean - but it seems to stand out more and be more controversial for some reason...

Sometimes I speak up when someone is being a dick in the surf, 1) because they're being a dick and 2) because I know how annoyed the dude will get; not only is he being told off, but he's being told off by a chick! Oh, the humanity! Or should that be, the humility? Usually…


So far in my life, I've never met a man who didn't want to be Maverick from Top Gun. No, no, not Tom Cruise, but Maverick.

And I'm not sure if this says more about me, or the men I've chosen to know.

It might also interest you to know that the same man (Kenny Loggins) who wrote the Top Gun theme song, Danger Zone,

also wrote the theme song to another famous and amazing film about breakin' the rules and doin' things your own way, Footloose.

I'm nothing if not informative!

Why me? Didn't the Little Mermaid already cover this ground?

Every time I get in the water lately, sea life appears - schools of fish dawdle beneath me, pods (pods!) of dolphins languish about in my general vicinity, sea birds plunge into the water beside me and large, seaweedy turtles pop up next to my knees to say hello.
I'm beginning to feel like some kind of unintended oceanic Snow White, drawing the animals to me with a flutter of my salty eyelashes and a wriggle of my sunburned toes. Without actually meaning to! (And with mousy brown hair and wearing shorts and with a lower, more gravelly singing voice and carrying much less of the innocent sweetness vibe about her.)
Yeah, I know, that's cool right? And it is. But to be honest, I really wish they wouldn't be so persistent in their presence. I would usually rather that they leave me alone because it makes me nervous when (as with this morning when I surfed by myself out at Suffolk) an impressively sized school of fish congregates beneath me and then begins flashing and splashing …

Well said, Sir Mick.

Patience is a virtue that I usually lack in most situations...

And certainly did lack in the surf this morning AND this afternoon. Well, actually, I would say that I managed to appear patient, but on the inside, I was seethingly frustrated and wanted to scream, loudly and often. And my anger, frustration and distaste had a soundtrack that has been ringing in my head since this morning, taunting me but delighting me nonetheless, and which I thought I would share with you, here, in video format.

I'm currently tired

Just give me two minutes to get changed. But wait for me, Ok?

I snap the boot open and pull out my board, slide the cover off, lie it on the ground. I wrap a towel around my waist, rip off my clothes and tie on some swimmers (new ones too!). A vest? Yeah, why not. Grab a legrope, slam the boot, hide the key and ready...

I run over to his car,

Let's go!

We walk down to the water, chatting and laughing.

The swell is wrapping around the point, breaking behind the rocks and further down the line. The wash is big and the rip is very clearly strong and wide. And it's not that small.

Oh my God! Am I even going to get out?

(Of course I will.)

Haha. Yeah, you might struggle a bit.

Yeah. Haha. Crap.

(I can make it out. I'll just go straight across.)

I've been coming here every day and been going straight across it, Bec.

(No way he's been going across. He's been going out near the rocks. I know that. He's being kind. And supportive. Bless.)

Yeah. That's what I reckon I'll …

Sunday 4th March 2007 5.50am

Sometimes, things are so beautiful, you can't help but take a picture.

I wish this was how today started!

George Silk, Surfing in Hawaii

George Silk, 1970s, Surfing in Hawaii

Isn't it beautiful!!
What is it about guys named George who take such great photos?
I found it on this site, Pineapple Luv, when I was looking about the interweb this morning. Thanks Pineapple Luv!

This is also ten parts adorable, especially since the little one looks just like my friend Kate's little girl...

Do you see how sweet this is? The baby has a tiny board under her arm! And tiny sandals! And she's walking down to check the surf! Isn't she adorable? And look at her little, fat belly...

Oh, come on!

From first to last (with little in between) OR Nights in Adolescence OR Exfoliations

At night the sand is cool and soft, the wash is loud andthe beach is long and lonely;It’s no place for girls alone,I’m told.
I move along the shore,sometimes,to test myself and my resolve. In the dark and cold and empty night, what’s to fear anyway? I think to myself,The dark and empty.
But not always. It’s not always.Parties, with friends, with rum, with music. With parents away.With “let’s go down to the beach!” Okay.
A hand, an arm, a chest, drag me into phosphorescence, show me how bright the water is at night.A mouth shows me how warm it is as well.
The sand clings to my feet.To my legs.To my back.A hand moves up my thigh and through my skirt. It finds my skin.I blush. I move. I’m scared! And I’m excited.
Another drink.
He pushes harder,‘Come on

When it comes to the state that loved Joh, you just can never be sure...

Dear Electorate of Beaudesert,

Don't you bloody well dare!

Warmest regards,


But you really have to wonder why Pauline Hanson keeps putting herself up for these horrendous media situations, don't you. Why on earth would anyone want to go through such an experience over and over and over?

It makes me a bit sad. It makes me a bit angry. It makes me very confused.

Do you think she honestly does it because she really believes in all that stuff she says? Do you? I'm not sure. I'm just not quite sure why she continues to step into the media spotlight when it continually goes so wrong for her. Maybe she's a totally self-absorbed, bombastic, narcissistic, naive, resilient but rather pathetic woman who can only value herself by the number of newspaper columns she is mentioned in?


I get so confused, I really, really do. If only she'd left it all on a high with her stint on Dancing With The Stars...

Count me in!

Although I don't believe in any God sitting above humankind in some kind of perpetual and hypocritical system of judgement, I still grew up in Australia where Christian ideals have imposed themsleves on the way I view my moral world. So rules like 'Be good to your parents' and 'Don't sleep with other girls' boyfriends' (my wording, not Theirs) have rung in my ears as I've travelled through life, guiding my actions, imposing limitations, and warning me of eternal consequence if I step out of line. Ooooooh!

And in my limited imaginings on the subject, I've envisioned hell as a place that is steaming hot, full of mosquitoes and cockroaches and people talking about real estate and renovations, all set to an unbearable soundtrack of The Cat Empire and The Veronicas...

But the description in this song by those delightful songsters, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, inspires me to throw the last of my morals out the window and embrace the hypothetical prospect of a…

Shark Alarm

May paddles into a wave and slides away. The waves are long and clean and small and fun and she's already 50 metres down the line when I turn back to the ocean.

The water is clear and I let myself roll off my board, floating under the surface and looking back up at the light refracting it's way down to me. I swim up and breathe and climb on my board.

I sit and float and enjoy the sun - the waves are fun, but the wait between sets is longer than I'd like. There's a few crew out, and it's mellow.

As I watch the water a black mass of mullet heads towards me, magnified through the swollen water. Urgh. They pass under my board and seem to stop, hovering. Al is near me,

'You know what follows fish don't ya? Someone's gonna get bitten soon I reckon.'

He paddles further out and I pull my limbs up onto my board, sitting like a child with my legs stretched in front of me. I will the fish to move along...

Everyone knows Old Whitey hangs between here and the Cape…