Posts Tagged ‘Malibu’

Friday Morning

Saturday, May 23rd, 2009

7am, in the water at Zuma, foggy like always before noon on a summer day, and the dolphins came inside the break, playing in the waves in water that was only up to my chest, closer to the shore than we were. The only thing that wasn’t perfect was having to keep an eye on the time so I could make it back to town and into work by 10am.

It’s really easy to get wrapped up in existential crises and angst. It’s considered hip to be a caustic sort inured to suffering or an artistic sort who suffers because, ya’know, that’s what you do if you are an artist, ’cause no one appreciates your genius. Or something. But the dolphins were playing in the same waves I was this morning, only a few feet away, and when that happens I realize that anything I’m suffering from is either imaginary or due to a lack of gratitude, and I don’t really have a fucking thing to complain about.

Night Surf

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

April 26th. We headed out to Zuma around 5pm. The wind was blowing hard from the north and it was too cold to even bother. South on PCH traffic was jammed, one accident after another. We stopped off at Topanga. There was no surf. A bunch of ambulances pulled up. A helicopter landed. Some time went by while they worked on the victim. Once he was stable enough they moved him quickly into the helicopter. Even from a distance you could see blood on the sheets covering him on the stretcher.

We headed down further to little Sunset. High tide, mellow surf. Watched the sun set on our boards, and surfed into the dark. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I got out and discovered I couldn’t feel the ground. It took an hour before I got feeling back in my feet.

Churn
High tide churn at night

topanga beach
Topanga
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Zuma March 21 2009

Sunday, March 22nd, 2009

This week’s beach update splits between two weekends. The idea here is to try to convey what this experience is like for me…which is not about a bunch of macho young man’s stuff in which one tames a wave and conquers nature and engages in Xtreme anything…it’s more about the fact that you cannot conquer nature, you cannot will the ocean to do anything, it’s not listening to you and really doesn’t even know you’re there. it’s about some sort of sense of one-ness with the whole thing. It’s sort of easy to get that feeling of serene awe when you are sitting on a board in the ocean with the dolphins swimming not so far beyond you, storm clouds building over the mountains…

It’s like the Buddhist mindfulness/Vipasanna meditation, which is a meditation not of blissed out, what’s-up-with-my-naval escapism, but of focus, concentration on specific aspects of the immediate here-and-now.

Guts board
My board, Zuma, March 14, 2009

Tere
Tere, Zuma, March 21, 2009

Alva’s Board

Tuesday, March 17th, 2009

Early March at Zuma Beach.

Alva's Board
Tony Alva loaned me this.

Zuma Beach
Tere with his mini-Simmons. This board always gets a lot of comments.

March 2 8am

Wednesday, March 4th, 2009

Zuma Beach, March 2009

Context 2: Pacific Coast Highway

Wednesday, August 1st, 2007

Following the Michael Brewster acoustic installation/sculpture experience (more about that later), we got into a conversation about information and substance. I said that there is an overwhelming amount of information being thrown at us nowadays. He said “But the information is really thin.”

I’d never thought about that.

It seems there is this human compulsion (I wouldn’t call it a need) to divide stuff up into ever smaller bits, and then look at each bit in isolation. Sometimes this is a valuable tool, like when you’re faced with a situation (or situations) the sum of which seems insurmountably huge. Breaking it up into bite sized chunks and then achieving those individually gives a sense of incremental accomplishment that you don’t get when tackling the whole, and sometimes that quantifiable progress is necessary just so you don’t give up.

But we take this too far when it comes to things like information.

The truth is there’s probably not any more information than there ever was. It’s just that we’ve broken it down into such tiny little bits that there are far far far more pieces of information.

In the case of information, this micro approach isn’t such a good thing. Often times those little bits of information are meaningless until assembled into a larger whole.

This is an image:

happy birthday

It’s 650 x 427 pixels in size, which means a total of 277,550 individual pixels. As it stands, that’s a pretty small image — smaller than it looks. The internet is all about compression, which basically means taking something and removing substantial amounts of information from it, and then reassembling it out of what’s left, creating the illusion of substance by making up what isn’t there, sort of like George Bush did with weapons of mass destruction and the war on Iraq. Compression is big business.

If I break it down into 277,550 individual pixels, I’m left with 277,550 bits of individually meaningless information. Even if I break ‘em down into 6 pixel increments, my individual bits of information are meaningless on their own. Try extrapolating that photo from this 6 pixel bit:

happy birthday

Sometimes, though, you can get some pretty amazing results by breaking something down into tiny parts and then reassembling those parts into something altogether different than its source. Here are a handful of video stills. These are from a 10 minute-or-so-long clip I shot pointing the camera out the car window while driving down PCH in the “city” part of Malibu. The video is kind of abstract — cars, buildings, people randomly interrupt the view more often than the view of the ocean can actually be seen, and they’re blurred ’cause I’m driving by at 50 mph.

Video shoots 30 frames per second, with means something like 18,000 frames exist on that clip, and I’ve isolated 40 or so individual frames that looked cool to me. Here are 12 of ‘em, 12 semi random 1/30-of-a-second-in-time moments, combining to make up just over 1/3 of a second of real time (and, maybe, 100 feet max of real distance) pieced together from 10 minutes in time and 8 miles of actual road.

pch