NYC dumpster wisdom

Rivington Street on a Monday afternoon.

Pure Imagination

I damn near cried when I watched this. If you're a child of the '80s or '90s, I bet you'll damn near cry too!

I honestly don't know what else to say other than you really gotta see this thing. 

Credits are at the end of the film, but a big Right On! goes to Marc Donahue and Roth Rind of PermaGrin Films.

Reminder: The world is really really cool

Mike Olbinski drove 17,000 miles capturing this footage, shooting 105,000 frames worth of time-lapse in the process.

It was so well worth it.

Oh dang! Lookit HULA!

One of the upsides of lashing together this site is that it's got me excited about art again.

I stumbled across a David Hockney book last night that pretty much blew the top of my head off. But I'll be honest, not in the same visceral way as the work of HULA (Sean Yoro).

Born in Hawaii and now living in New York, he paints these absolutely stunning murals from a standup paddleboard. I'm drawn to them in the same hard-to-explain way that I'm drawn to Easter Island statues and massive wind turbines on the horizon. With equal parts emotion and introspection and WTF.

I love street art (canal art in this case?). And I love fine art. Usually when those two worlds come together, there's an element of irony or cynicism or smart-assery to it. Not here. HULA's work is just powerful and resonant and beautiful. His studio portraiture work is wonderful too. 

Yes, I realize I'm gushing. But there's nothing I love more than finding things worth gushing over.

You can check out much more of his work on his site. 

I believe I can fly!

Just slow down a little bit... you can do it. Much like my diminutive friend here.

What are you painting today?

Fall is for firepits

It could be a nesting instinct that kicks in for me, come fall. Or the cooler temperatures. Or just the sudden realization that there was so much more that I had planned for the year. But fall is when I get things done.

Around this time last year, my son and I were working on a northwoods fire pit. Building an ash and white oak bench to go alongside the random stump and stone seating our pit had accumulated over the years. It was the perfect bridge from summer into fall.

This is what fall is for. Fall is for firepits.

THIS IS NOT A SURF FILM

Those of you that know me know this: Johnny don't surf.

Not that I haven't. And not that I won't again (hopefully soon, I love it). It's just that in my neck of the woods, the only rideable waves are called "wakes."  And the closest we get to surf's up is "snow's down." 

So why am I diving into another surfy post? Because this: Surfers make the best videos. That's just how it is. Or at least they make the most soulful ones.

Trust me, I've at least dabbled in pretty much every solo sport there is: winter, summer, action, silent, hook, bullet, esoteric-stuff-that-white-guys-with-dreadlocks do, you name it.

The point is, my interests tend to careen. And with each new obsession comes hours of youtube time. So it's with absolute certainty that I say no one draws the connections between who they are, and what they do, as well as surfers do. 

The short film "Out of the Black and Into The Blue" is no exception. Of course, the surf footage is spectacular: Ridiculous sets – the likes of which I've never seen. And ridiculous rides – the likes of which I can only imagine in my wildest Spicoli dreams... right before me and Mick wing over to London to jam with the Stones.

But this is not a surf film. 

You can watch it as a surf film, yes. I'm sure director Luke Pilbeam would appreciate it, since that's the film he made.

But once you've watched it, play it again with your eyes closed.

Just listen.

This is a life film. 

Of course, that's the film Luke made too. Surfers just get that kind of thing.

"It's difficult to explain to those who haven't found their calling..."

Props to Luke Pilbeam (Director), Nick Tsang (Music), and Joey Brown (Words).

Stop Sense Making

Tree forts don't make sense. A compound of tree forts, high in the mountains, overlooking your own massive poured concrete skate bowl, really doesn't make sense. But Foster Huntington just went ahead and did that shit anyway.

You can get his story here, and check out his excellent blog called A Restless Transplant.

But what you should really do is watch the short film below. It's a leisurely look at the year it took for him and his buds to build and settle into Cinder Cone. It's a very well put together piece, documenting a very well put together place.

The whole thing leaves me feeling a little jelly, of course. But what it really does is leaves me thinking about the no-sense-making shit I should get started on myself.

Go camping! You! Go camping now!

With Labor Day behind us, my head shifts to camping (car camping, backpacking, float trips, whatever ya got). That's because camping, while an entirely reasonable summer activity, is an entirely kick ass fall activity.

If this video doesn't make you wanna get out there, I don't know what will. Just the sights, sounds and sweetness of camping with no extra filler added nor required.

It's from Hipcamp which is an Airbnb-style concept for finding and reserving campsites. Although I haven't used it yet, the site looks solid. And this video, to me anyway, is damn near perfect. 

Edward Abbey and the sweet and lucid air

I spent today on the water with family. And friends. And a splash or three of tequila. 

This evening I spent reading Edward Abbey. And now, for whatever reason, I decided it would be a good idea to share. I have a strong suspicion that "whatever reason" = "a splash or three of tequila." But so it goes.

Hat tip to mi amigo Señor West for originally steering me to this quote. 

Longing for the apocalypse? Try Rx Nature!

This 90-second video is 100 percent awesome – a perfectly crafted reminder to get yer ass outside. It also includes what must be my favorite disclaimer copy of all time: "Results may vary. Golf is not nature."

Water that moves: Erik Abel

Sol slice 3 ©Erik Abel

"Grab a beer and relax. This might take a while."

That, my friends, is how you kick off an About page. And artist Erik Abel wasn’t kidding. Originally from Ventura County, California, he’s lived all over the world – sweet and salty fronded places like Bali, Fiji, Sumatra, and the Kingdom of Tonga(!). Not to mention New Zealand, Australia, and aboard a bunch of boats in between.

He was searching for waves, mostly, and whatever else it is we search for when we find ourselves searching.

It makes for a good story. What makes his a great story, though, is this: along the way Erik created a trail. A string of paintings connecting one place, one culture, one experience to the next. I love his work. (Check it out. I’m so serious!)

To me, this is what the world looks like when you worry less about leaving your mark on it and, instead, allow the world to leave its mark on you. Clearly the places he’s been have affected his art and, I can only assume, his worldview.

I think it’s important, this idea of leaving a trail. Of making things as we move through life. It's a line of breadcrumbs, the things we create, whether they’re paintings or poems or even blog posts. They help us remember where we’ve been. Those special places and times where, for whatever reason, things seemed to make sense. And... should we lose our way over the ensuing years, it's those breadcrumbs that help us find our way back again.

Big thanks to Erik + Nellie Abel for letting me share some of Erik's work.

Twenty-Eight Feet: life on a little wooden boat

Every single thing about this short documentary is perfect. David Welsford traded his previous reality for one on the sea, living aboard a 50-year old sailboat he restored himself. The simplicity of small spaces and the sea, all together in one life. Damn. 

You can learn more about David here.

The Endless Summer

Sometimes I find myself missing places I've never been during eras I've never lived. Such as? Key West in the 30s. NYC in the 70s (alright I was alive but not of the recommended age for doing 70s NYC things). And California in the mid 60s. 

That last one is where The Endless Summer comes in. If you're not familiar (and you should be, friend-o), the film follows several surfers to Australia, New Zealand, Africa, Tahiti and Hawaii. Because "On any given day of the year, it's summer somewhere in the world." (Some decades later, the philosopher Jimmy Buffett would further parse this seminal theory to conclude: "It's 5 o'clock somewhere.") 

Despite the worldwide locations, though, The Endless Summer couldn't be more 60s Californian if it tried. It's the perfect tale of care-free wanderlust and adventure: beautifully shot, wonderfully narrated, and set to a killer soundtrack. In my mind, when I think about escape plans, they look exactly like this.

You can watch the whole thing right here: