There is still something hiding under my bed.
Featured on Desillusion magazine x Sitka.
Water In The Fuel.
Water In The Fuel - Exclusive story up on Desillusion magazine. Check out new work by Sasha Barkans and I!
Our Water In The Fuel story is now being featured on DESILLUSION! Head over to see a batch of new 35mm work and words by Sasha Barkans and myself. Thank you Sitka for providing the wardrobe…
I was driving through the California Redwoods with these guys and turned around and said “Yo I got an idea for a shot, but you guys might not be down for it.” Then I told them I had been envisioning this big beautiful redwood deep in the forest that had a slice of light beaming through the rooftop onto It. And that I wanted them to all get naked and link hands. The boys one by one were like “Yea, sure whatever you want man.” An hour later we found the tree. This photograph is exactly how I had envisioned the scene coming together.
Our trip to ICELAND is done. I’m at home now editing my negatives. Looking back on the everything- it was the best trip I’ve ever been on in my life. The dramatic daunting landscapes, the drop dead women, the gas station food, the wild nights, the new pals, and the consistently burly surf.
Surfing is the common denominator between us. When I travel with the boys it’s the one thing we have all agree on. It’s the one thing that has saved us. It’s an important piece of the puzzle. It’s a starting point but not the end. There’s a lot of other shit in between to put together. There’s a lot to see and do. Highs and lows. Good and bad.
I believe in yin & yang. A balance between forces. You endure some painful moments on the road. Your pals see you at your best and your worst. If you want a high the whole trip, bask in artificial pleasure- then realize nothing has changed in you. Your daughter still hates you, and your job still sucks. In yoga you move into a position until you feel that Point Of Discomfort. It’s then that one can understand how deep your body and mind can go. Pain is pleasure. I believe we need to voluntarily push ourselves into a place of discomfort to grow- whether it be surfing, traveling, work, sex, art etc. Take what you hate most and what you love most and work with them. Your a racist asshole and hate Asian people? Then go to Asia on a surf trip and understand that they are seeking the same thing as you- happiness.
In Iceland there’s no naked girls on the beach, there’s no gated off all inclusive bar either. It’s cold and lonely. But there’s no one trying to get a piece of you. It’s quiet and it gives you time to think… There are empty barrels, with a landscape that can shake your shit back in place. It’s then that you can truly start enjoying the road in between.
Thank you, Logan Landry, Mike Bromley, Ingo Olson, Hreinn Halldorsson, Heiðar Elíasson, for making this the most enjoyable controlled and chaotic trip ever. See you soon.
More Point Of Discomfort work coming out in the near future.
I had hoped when Mike Bromley was on shore shooting Logan Landry, that he might have shot my first barrel ever- but he didn’t. Instead local surf photographer Valdimar Thorlacius did and posted it yesterday. This is that big day on Nov. 17th. Thanks so much dog. One of my purest moments in life!
Valdimar Thorlacius Photo
Sponsors ready? Got my 2nd barrel ever caught on film thanks to Mike Bromley! Best one second of my life.
Today we woke up late, and hungover. That doesn’t mean shit around here though cause the light is only visible by 9:30am now. We drove three hours to do some sightseeing, went to a couple water falls, fed the horses, visited a few towns, and went for a surf. Iceland looks like what Bon Iver sounds like. It is deep, heavy, and emotional. We have all traveled quite a bit, and agreed that this is the most amazing place in the world. No sugar coating. We got talking about how happy we were with ourselves in life. That we were all doing what we wanted in life. That we could all die happy today. Later I was singing out load over top of Logans jibber jabber and Mike was staring out the window watching the landscapes change. I knew he wasn’t paying attention to Logan or I. He turned the music off, and looked at me with glazed eyes and said “I’m not going to lie boys…” I thought he was angry. Then he cut Logan off again by saying “I just realized how content I am right now, and I just shed a tear”.
POINT OF DISCOMFORT PLAYLIST:
Byegone- Valcano Choir
Perth- Bon Iver
Walkin On A Pretty Daze- Kurt Vile
Revival- Soulsavers
Gobbledigook- Sigur Rós
It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy- Passion Pit
Pay For Me- The National
Broke- Modest Mouse
Intro- M83
The John Wayne- Little Green Cars
Down In The Valley- The Head And The Heart
Rows Of Houses- Dan Mangan
Suite Judy Blue Eyes- Crosby, Stills, & Nash
Nine am sunrise. I haven’t shot much film up until today. My mind has been fixated on looking out the window and staring at the vast environment. It makes you feel small. Then intensifies your spirit. But throw some music on with a bad hang over and some coffee and shit can turn around fast. Everyone was high today. The snow melted, the sun came out, and the wind rested. I had no idea when I jumped out the car that we were here days before. I shot a full roll, 36 exposures. Then we went surfing.
Fallow our story on instagram with #PointOfDiscomfort
Today is the sexiest I’ve felt in five years. The boys really made me feel so special today. Why? Because today I finally caught that first legit jumbo barrel of my life and made it out!
Mike Bromley Photo.
When I was shooting this wave today a local approached me and said it was fine to shoot as long as I didn’t give the location away. He told me they had to write a letter to the big name, letting him know he isn’t welcome here anymore for exposing this place. Then he told me to relax. Ha. After that we paddled out with the whole Icelandic crew. Everyone was incredibly nice- hooting and hollering everyone into waves. A couple of them on the outside were belting that shitty song from Andrea Bocelli song from stepbrothers, It was fucking hilarious.
Point Of Discomfort