Paskowitz: “Surf is mystical!”

The youngest of "first family of surfing" shares his art!

My surname, as you know, is Smith and it comes with zero baggage or maybe just a little. There was once a Smith named Joseph and he started Mormonism. There is also a Smith named Sam and he sings very whiny songs. Other than Joseph and Sam, though, the Smith is easy to carry. Paskowitz, on the other hand, is not. You are aware of Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz, the Stanford educated M.D. who traveled around the world with his large brood surfing and generally living an idealistic life.

You must read more on the Encyclopedia of Surfing but Doc, his wife and nine children soon became known as “the first family of surfing.” The youngest, Joshua Ben-Paskowitz, has led his own fascinating life, fronting one-hit-wonder band The Flys, beating a heroin addiction and all along making art.

I saw one of his prints on Facebook, recently, and it captivated so I called to ask about. He said:

My family is a little bit crazy. My dad is the coolest, most beautiful amazing conflicted loving character you could imagine. The good guy and the bad guy all at once.

I’ve been drawing my whole life, in our family we’d spend a lot of the time in the middle of nowhere. My dad and brothers cared about surfing, I was always drawn to the arts, started getting into comic books at five, six. Heavy metal mags when I was in the single digits. Used that as a conduit for the impossible to understand dynamics of my life growing up.

My life is about, my art is about preserving my dad’s legacy. Reminding people of characters that would have been overlooked. I really want to try to bring art into surfing and develop a contemporary or fine art style around surfing. I’m really grateful for Herbie and Dibi and what they’re doing. Surf is mystical and art is a conduit for that. I’m just trying to develop that as much as I can and be honest to who I am.

With Hanukkah in just five days and Christmas soon after don’t you think a print would make a fantastic gift? I do. Buy here!

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Controversy: Medina gets 6th!

Two places behind Portugal's Frederico Morais. Conspiracy?

The Surfer Poll awards were held last night and I am sad I wasn’t there. As much as I chuckle at the surfer fashions and the interior of Turtle Bay and the perpetually awkward master of ceremonies, the Surfer Poll is the only night we have. It is our Academy Awards, Golden Globes and Teen Choice Awards rolled into one.

Next year I will go but this year I was duty bound to book and to film. And to snidely laughing up my tattoo sleeve at Stab trying to be edgy by allegedly microdosing acid.

But let’s get on to some real controversy shall we? Might we? The Surfer Poll, as you know, is the apex of the event. Here we learn which surfers, as voted by you, are the most popular in the entire world. Past winners include Dane Reynolds, Kelly Slater, Andy Irons and John John Florence. No surprise. This year the winner was John John Florence and Kelly Slater was second. Frederico Morais was fourth and Gabriel Medina was sixth.

What?

Wait.

Frederico Morais was fourth and Gabriel Medina was sixth?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Hmmm.

Now, I’ve been on a bit of a conspiracy kick lately but let us examine the facts. Frederico has 64,000 Instagram followers. Gabriel has near 6 million. Frederico has Portugal (10 million) and Gabriel has Brazil (210 million). Frederico has… a nice top turn and Gabriel has… nice armpits. But really. Do you think that more people voted for Frederico than Gabriel? Do you really think so?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Do you really really think so?

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nude-surfing
Adult learners are laughing all the way to the bank while we torture ourselves with calvinist myths about the right way to spend a life.

Real Talk: Surfing won’t fuck your life!

Without surfing, you'd be an insufferable, neutered, embittered eunuch…

The exchange of ideas at the Grit is intoxicating even when the substance ain’t your trip. Only thing that grinds is when old warhorse assumptions and myths get trotted out with a fresh coat of lipstick for another go around.

Some cat might have been Ayn Rand or Noam Chomsky or maybe Michel Houellebecq, said life proceeds pretty much according to the conventional wisdom. And nothing is more conventional wisdom in surfing than the idea that we are all deep down some kind of renegade outlaws barely able to function in society because we are humping this hulking, all consuming, addiction to surfing through life.

Neg, not Nug, love him like a brother and bless his soul, made comment on an AI quote that “surfing kept him on a even keel” by claiming that “For him and those of us over 30, surfing offers almost none of the answers in life”.

Bollocks mi amigo.

It offers any answer you want, apart from the ultimate one, which is death. It’s a great and compelling answer to the question: how do I pass the time each day? The implication that surfing did Andy no good or couldn’t keep him on an even keel is correct, on the face of it, but greys out so much of the man. He died an addict but an addict who was a three-time world champ, who exalted and glorified a talent, transcended liabilities and inspired millions. He could’ve died an opioid addict alone in a gutter if he never picked up a sled.

You want to imbue surfing with a numinous glow, are newly arrived from Europe or the mid-west and crave meaning? Surfing makes an excellent, harmless religion, better, by far, than any of the Abrahamic faiths, with easy to follow tenets, prophets and daily rituals.

You can sit dewey eyed at the feet of benevolent masters, for a small fee, like Gerry Lopez. You want to make it your Walden Pond, decipher natural history, accept the measured violence of the ocean, and understand that you must meet every effort of nature with a calculated, countervailing manoeuvre. Then you’ve got a lifetime mapped out.

Want to dabble, hold down a job, raise a family and get a little work-a-daddy stoke on a couple mornings a week? Surfing is no problem for you.

Barack Obama wave slides using the human body as planing device. Surfing is not a problem for him. Former Australian prime minister Tony Abbott: surfs. Former NSW Premier Mike Baird: surfs. Former Australian Treasurer Wayne Swan: surfs. Former Australian Attorney-General Robert McClelland: surfs. Putin, I’m sure, has dabbled. Many Russians do.

Almost nothing adds lubricating grease to the wheels in the highest spheres of power in the Indo-Pacific world than a mild-moderate wave sliding habit. You crave power, have ambition, want to make money? Surfing is not a problem for you.

You’re American and you surf. You’ve likely got a college degree and bank above the average income. Maybe you got lucky and get to suckle on the teat of the tech-titans and get to surf the Nor-cal area like the great Louie Samuels.

Maybe you lament getting your hands dirty, working a blue-collar job as Limbless Jack or Mike C suggested. That’s a shame. If you’re in Australia and have a trade: brickie, chippy, plumber, sparky, gas fitter, landscaper etc, you sit majestically close to the apex of the socio-economic totem pole. You charge 80-100/hour, more if you own kit, live close to the beach, dawn patrol a couple times a week, send your kids to a private school, surf weekends, spend ten days in the Ments every year and snorkel pow in Japan on a good year. Surfing is not a problem for you.

There are older surfers here, maybe even the despised baby boomers. You paid how much for that crib in Byron Bay when you came here chasing surf in the 70’s? What? Seven grand. Seven fucking thousand! Your mate across the street sold for 2.8 mill and you’d get the same. So chasing surf was a massive financial mistake now that you’re a multi-millionaire for doing 5/8’s of nothing? Not quite. Surfing is not a problem for you.

There are older surfers here, maybe even the despised baby boomers. Come forwards. Don’t be shy. You paid how much for that crib in Byron Bay when you came here chasing surf in the 70’s? What? Fifty grand? No? Less? Seven grand. Seven fucking thousand! And it’s worth how much now? Your mate across the street sold for 2.8 mill and you’d get the same, maybe a bit more because of the new deck. So chasing surf was a massive financial mistake now that you’re a multi-millionaire for doing 5/8’s of nothing? Not quite. Surfing is not a problem for you.

You think without surfing you’ll be a better lover, a kinder parent with more time for your kids? You won’t. You’ll be an insufferable monster. A neutered, embittered eunuch.

 

You nine-to-five cube monkeys feel disrespected, mocked as unimaginative wage slaves and robots. But you’re right, this whole shit show would grind to a halt without you. Maybe you suffer, like I, from what Rimbaud called the horror of home. You might be happier, like Ishmael and me, 40 miles out to sea, but 40 miles isn’t always possible so 40 metres might be better, even for 40 minutes. No shame in that. That alone, makes pappy a better man, mammy a better woman. You think without surfing you’ll be a better lover, a kinder parent with more time for your kids? You won’t. You’ll be an insufferable monster. A neutered, embittered eunuch. To those martyrs who give it up (for an illusory gain) I offer these words from the author Chris Kraus: “Stop your whining you whiny little bitch and get your go-outs. Or Don’t.”

Hey hipsters. No hate here. Just keep that leashless log the fuck away from my kids. It is what it is and what it is is fucking great. Surfing is no problem for you.

Hey hipster. You swing between New York, Byron, Milan or wherever the hell appeals. Resin-tinted log left at the Bay, borrow a fish to ride down at Montauk and life is, what? Sweeter for the slide? Of course, always is. The commitment to surfing… minimal. The identification: partial. No hate here. Just keep that leashless log the fuck away from my kids. It is what it is and what it is is fucking great. Surfing is no problem for you.

Our very own principal D. Rielly, as reward for his entrepreneurial escapades cashed out of Stab for a couple hundred K. That is not a problem. That is a solution to a problem, a series of problems even, including how to find a cash deposit for a beachside residence, how to invest in a new business etc etc.

Finally fellow travellers. Take a walk in the room of mirrors. Did you back surf? Back it properly I mean. For a block of dirt and a roof close to a surf spot? Did you back it in for Lennox Head, Byron Bay, Burleigh, Coolum, Ulladulla, Laguna Beach, Newport, Cardiff by the Sea, Hossegor, Lahinch, the Bukit, Raglan, Pupukea etc etc. Then congratulations. You won the game. For doing exactly nothing except backing surf you have enriched yourself and supplied an endowment for your families future.

Adult learners are laughing all the way to the bank while we torture ourselves with calvinist myths about the right way to spend a life.

It’s a funny old world, but surfing ain’t a problem in it. For you or anyone else.

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Podcast: “Medina is the new Pottz!”

The future of professional surf broadcasting!

Fire is ravishing southern California right now and I know that many of you live in Los Angeles. Are you ok? Home fine? Hedge seared? Can we use the “fire” metaphorically yet or is it still too early? I’m going to press ahead, if that’s ok with you, and use it metaphorically. I am going to wax on about the “fire” missing from the World Surf League broadcast booth. That’s ok, right? Good. So the Pipeline Masters begins in just 24 hours and the eyes of the surfing world will be on the North Shore and the ears of the surfing world will be listening to Turpel, Blakey, Pottz n Pete once again and son of a bitch. Is it too much to ask for some heat from them? For some incandescence?

Apparently it is because we have been stuck with the same basic crew since the inception of the World Surf League née Association of Surfing Professionals and have been served a bowl of lukewarm water with a side of lukewarm water.

We get nothing and I look back at the old pictures of Pottz and hear old Pottz stories and blame mostly him. He used to have a flame in his belly. Now he has a jelly donut.

I have given up on this crew. Staid institutions like the NFL, NBA, Olympic ice skating have more opinionated personalities in the booth than professional surfing. The real tennis tour has John McEnroe for pity’s sake. This crew is bland and getting more bland but the future is always around the corner and yesterday, whilst sitting across from David Lee Scales for our bi-weekly chat, he suggested Gabriel Medina could be the inferno that we need. Oh, not today of course. He has many surfing years ahead of him but when those wane might he be a perfect colorman?

Who else would you suggest? A listen here for more about Patrick Ewing, Jake Paterson, the apparent lousiness of SnakeTales, why Stab and The Inertia both suck but why they shouldn’t suck a dick.

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Collusion: Stab and Billabong fire Jack?

A conspiracy for the rest of us!

I’m tired. It’s not your fault… you are my joy, my reason for waking each morning and running to the computer like a Zionist to Jerusalem’s new American embassy. It’s just… just… I bit off a lot this year. But enough about me. Can we talk about Stab? And Jack Robinson? And how Stab might be an ugly corporate tool? I totally missed it because of my busyness but what a story!

I was made aware of the fact that Billabong might not be renewing with Jack just this morning as I sat down for a podcast with David Lee Scales. He told me. I said, “Whoa.” And he said, “Yeah. I got that from Stab.”

And my wheels started to turn. Jack Robinson was the up-and-coming thing of this next generation. He, the fearless towhead, was set to challenge John John for supremacy in our hearts and in our minds. Things went a little quiet for Jack as he transitioned though puberty though he remains a once-in-a-decade talent. But then, four short months ago, Stab went a published a moralist takedown of Jack Robinson’s father for having a few too many beers in Tahiti and/or swindling Billabong in the process. Then, two shorter weeks ago, the same Stab published this, buried deep in a poorly conceived column named Gossip Girl:

We’ve heard strange rumblings for years, of difficulties w/r/t the Robinson’s relationship with, well, just about everyone, not least of which young Jack’s marquee sticker sponsor. You’ll have noticed a strange Lack of Jack, as it were and as of late, though there are competing theories as to what’s keeping a lid on Jack’s seemingly bottomless cup of talent, marketability, and raw, West Australian nerve. While surfers sitting well below Jack Robo on the popularity pecking order get the call-ups for team trips and filming strikes, with few exceptions the Robinson’s line’s been dead for the better part of a year. With his contract up, and with no sign of resigning, as of this writing one of surfing’s true young, bright stars has lost its place in the current sponsorship constellation.

Now, it very much seems that something is rotten in the state of Venice-adjacent. It appears that either Stab is off the reservation libeling one of Billabong’s young star’s father before positing “strange rumblings” of “difficulties” with the Robinsons relationship with “everyone” or that Billabong wanted Jack gone and used Stab as a dull tool to push out unflattering material. And then wanted Stab to push the ugliest collaboration joint of all-time?

Hmmmm.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

If you were Quiksilver would you be happy that Iggy Pop x Billabong cut off Leo Fioravanti’s face for your own joint with Stab? And how much cajoling will it take for Stab to drop the racially insensitive “joint”? Should we start an online petition?

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