She is alone and it is time to make her great again!
So I was vaguely aware that Surfing was, for all intensive purposes, finished a few weeks ago right? But I figured the death announcement would be quickly chased by a birth announcement. Something like, “Print is dead, long live the net!” and then everything would push to some sparkly new Surfing website feat. the best clips, amazing images, maybe a store. Maybe a softcore porn subsection. Girl in a Skirt. Etc.
The fact that the death got leaked and then… crickets confused me greatly. A leaked death then crickets then Surfing employees posting heartfelt eulogies on Instagram as the sun set while the website remained frozen on yesterday’s Pipeline summary.
There was no joy. No “Get ready for what’s next!” Only sadness.
Which leaves Surfer alone. And The Surfer’s Journal but the Journal is something wholly different, I think. The Journal is something quality and wonderfully good. Each issue like a curated book. Like an experience.
Surfer is not a book. It is a magazine and now alone with nothing left to cannibalize it and this should be a happy day for lovers of surf media. Right? One proud magazine where all the talent can congregate and contribute. Where Nick Carroll and Matt Warshaw and Derek Rielly and Derek Hynd and Steve Shearer and Lew Samuels and Ben Marcus… all the greats and all the great photographers come together and there is no more fear but only bravery. Only straight backs and clear visions. Right?
I so hope this happens but for this dream to become a reality Surfer would need a visionary editor-in-chief. A brave man not afraid to push out a unique vision. Not afraid to ruffle feathers. Not afraid to tell real stories but also fun stories. Not afraid to loose his writers and photographers onto the world and fight tooth and nail for them. Not afraid to present a glorious monthly (or bi-monthly or whatever it is now) picture of what surfing was, what it is, what it should be.
Not Todd Prodanovich. He is a clucking chicken with an inspirational palette as blandly vanilla as his skin. With an impotent temper as red hot as his hair. With a backbone made out of stroganoff noodles.
No…now that she is alone it is time to make Surfer great again and if we have learned anything over the past year it is that strongmen are in fashion. Who wants to be editor-in-chief? Matt? Nick? Steve?
Come on. Uncle Severson Wants You!