Craig Anderson, Shark VS. Cow Collected Thoughts 015
This is Craig on all fours kind of barrel-rolling down the beach. Why does he roll? For a frank lack of things to do, really. For diversion when diversion was scarce. Why was it scarce? This was after five days straight of no surf on a trip that, at the moment of Craig’s roll, was…
Dusty Payne, Tim McGraw & Kenny Chesney in Anaheim Collected Thoughts 014
He wore Wranglers. Navy blue. A straw cowboy hat and a plaid button-down over a plain white Volcom tee. And boots. Real, honest-to-God, brown leather cowboy boots. After flying direct from Minneapolis, Minnesota — where he went for three days of intense rehab (the doctors claimed Dusty packed about six weeks of therapy into three…
Kolohe Breaking News Collected Thoughts 013
A little espresso. A small bottle of Mexican cola. And away we went. Kolohe hobbled into the brand new Zebra House Café in San Clemente with me last week. He wore Oakleys and they dangled from a pair of Croakies. He had on one sandle and he was on crutches. His left foot in a…
Dion in uniform Collected Thoughts 012
Helicopter pilot Russian Director (mostly foreign art house) Arms dealer/warlord Ringo Starr Warehouse stock worker Bodyguard Installation artist Coach to the German gymnastic team Taxi driver Member of the Weather Underground Sheep farmer There are many things you’d guess before “surfer” if someone asked you to identify this stranger above. “Waterman” and “professional athlete”…
Mitch Coleborn and the modern chair Collected Thoughts 011
That chair to Mitch’s left looks almost like it was inspired by the Bertoia Diamond Lounge chair, a midcentury classic designed by Harry Bertoia. The main difference is that this chair here is wood, whereas the Diamond Lounge was wire mesh and pioneered the use of that material in modern furniture design. It made Bertoia…
Dillon on a Temporary Vacation Collected Thoughts 010
Coolangatta in its autumn can be a humane society, by which ironically I mean an inhuman sort of animal society. Especially for the surfer. Lots of girls and lots of waves, but you catch something from the girls, and you never catch the waves, so either way it’s a good time to leave. Jack Freestone…
Dane and Courtney on Bart Collected Thoughts 009
PHOTO: Kai Neville San Francisco | October 31st, 2011 There was a contest starting the next day. The Rip Curl Pro Search, SF. Rad comp. Rad city. Rad holiday. It was all happening. Dane had first heat the next morning, of course, But it was Halloween and the show must go on. Besides, a stop…
Chippa Wilson on the stoop Collected Thoughts 008
Here’s Chippa outside the rental he shared with Mitch and Craig on their trip into the Australian desert, where their minds drifted into a pleasant psychosis commonly called “desert fever” and they began to see things. Like tubes. Tubes and ramps. Chippa recalls the experience: I didn’t even check if there were good waves there,…
From the Dear Suburbia Official Studio Shoot, 2012 Collected Thoughts 007
Why is this girl from Copenhagen vacuuming sand off a lobster in high-wasted denim? Well, why comb your hair? Why lie to seem friendly? Why sleep at nighttime? Why wear purple trousers, or why not? Why is your best friend a screen? Why spend time water-sliding on a plastic toy plank? One thing makes as…
Sugarloaf Diaries Collected Thoughts 006
Poetry is dead. The web clip killed surfing. What’s a blowtail? The barrel is back. Big-budget soundtracks. Bill fucking Murray. It’s a spiced rum. The mountains are purple and the red wine is uncorked. Kai’s nearly finished the rough edit of Dear Suburbia, which we’ll preview here at the studio in a matter of days….
Dillon Got Keyed Collected Thoughts 005
This was after Dillon’s rental car got keyed in a Yamba parking lot while he was surfing. The keyer’s total lack of ingenuity is what was most disappointing. He could have taken his vandalism in so many directions. Like, he could have been clever and scratched “MY BACK,” or been artsy and written a sonnet,…
Kolohe at the rack Collected Thoughts 004
Kolohe thrifting in New South Wales, because vintage is the RAGE. Why get endless free shit from your industry-leading global sportswear sponsor, when you can pay good money for a used musty button-down that someone might have died in? Hey, sick shirt though.
