“Hustling, media-obsessed” surfer-artist Herbie Fletcher to headline LA gallery exhibition alongside Hanai Usuki and Barry McGee

Whether you consider Herbie Fletcher Moses or Pharaoh, his influence on surf is undeniable. 

There is little evidence that genius transfers. Take Lindsey Lohan and her singing career.  Kanye and politics. Kelly and critical thinking.

It’s the rare bird who can slide discipline to discipline with respect. Herbie Fletcher might be such an animal. 

Fletcher, 75, is showing his artwork at the new hip T & Y Gallery in Los Angeles at the end of the month. The collection includes a dozen or so paintings, sculptures, and photographic collages and will hang alongside artists Hanai Usuki and Barry McGee in “The Thrill is Back” exhibition opening this month.

Artwork will include both new pieces and a few from Herb’s previous collections including his celebrated “Wrecktangled” series, a wall collage of broken boards from his Wave Warrior’s missteps. 

Historian Matt Warshaw calls him a “hustling, media-obsessed surfer/manufacturer/impresario” from San Clemente. Whether you consider Fletcher Moses or Pharaoh, his influence on surf is undeniable. 

Born in ’48, the California native flew to Hawaii at 16 and quickly established himself as a legit bull rider as well as a blue-ocean prophet. By the late-seventies, Fletcher was playing around with the idea of using jet skis to tow into waves too heavy, too fast for paddling. Ten years on, his Astrodeck traction pads were stuck on every plank in the ocean. The Wave Warrior video series followed, featuring a catwalk of the best surfers showing off their Astrodeck: Curren, the Ho brothers, Potter, Dino, Archy, and a good look at his oldest son, Christian. 

Both of Fletcher’s sons, Christian and younger brother Nathan, possess preternatural surfing gifts handed down from Herbie. Most of the family dabbles in the art world, too, although all lesser talents in front of the canvas than their old man. Even grandson Greyson is endowed with the Fletcher’s genetics, skating with the abandon of Christian and easy flow of Uncle Nathan.  And not since John Cardiel has one shown such style and guts in the pool. His art, too, hangs in galleries, though would be better served if he would choose to paint with the lights on. 

Herbie’s art, on the other hand, shows genuine aplomb and the kind of compulsion and spine that drives an artist to originality. His “Blood Water” paintings, for example, feature single black line waves standing tall like Giacomettis against an earthen background created from dirt taken right from the Wiamea River. “They feel like ancient petroglyphs etched in the oxide rich red earth from the river with Kaena Point barely visible in the background,” Fletcher says.  

In addition to Blood Water works, the show also will highlight works from his “Returning to the Source” collection, canvases covered in scraps found around the beaches of Hawaii and dashed with minimal flashes of paint. The compositions hint of Mondrian on smack.  

“These pieces are my way of sharing the lifelong love affair I’ve had with surfing and the beach culture,” Fletcher says, “and the opportunity to create a vocabulary that hopefully will speak to the coming generations.”   

“The Thrill is Back” show opens August 29. If you are in the area, check it out, but bring plastic if you are serious about taking home Herb’s vocabulary. While prices are not disclosed to the public, similar works have gone for heaps of green. “California Dreaming,” for example, shows a supersaturated pic of sunbathers on the beach with a few sexy rights peeling behind. Herb threw in a couple orange swipes of color over the blue sky. $2800. It works.

Warshaw’s hustler also offers “Teardrops,” a collage of broken skate decks. Stickered at 20 grand, it’s the only piece available that wants to be traded on the Fletcher name alone. Like Fran Liebowitz said good art is what I like. Bad art is what I don’t.  And I don’t. Save your money for a work truck.

In all, Herb’s work is certainly an expression of his pulse. Perhaps in the spirit of the fauvist (“wild beast”), he translates his history of the ocean directly into his art with the smarts not to confuse the sensual with the sentimental, that rotten mix of privileged theory and horse dung. Hold his art up against images of him surfing the big stuff. No need for speculation; it slaps you low in the jaw as intended.

Fletcher says his craftwork “seems to be an extension of the last, from doing Astrodeck in the 70s’, Wave Warrior’s in the 80’s, shaping surfboards for decades, being in -out whatever in the surf industry.”

It’s all one, long, fantastic story, and the greatest ride I could have ever imagined.”