Archive | San Francisco

“The Beach”

Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 20″ x 10″
Year: 2017


Sleep on couches, sleep in cars, whatever it takes to get by. Duck dive. Paddle. Duck dive. Paddle. Duck dive. Paddle.

Get a job. Better yet, start your own thing. Duck dive. Paddle harder. Duck dive. What? Duck dive again.

Lose a job, laid off by the boss that’s half your age. Whatever. Keep getting by. Paddle like mad. Duck dive. Paddle harder. Duck dive. Underwater backflip. Neat. Two quick strokes. Duck dive.

Get a place of your own. An old house with an even older landlord. No english spoken. Maybe dutch, or german. Simple life, walk to the beach. Paddle a bit further. Just outside the inner bar now. Check the shore, mind the drift.

Back to work. Side jobs keep coming. Who needs a real job? Head down. Keep busy. Race for the horizon between sets, maybe sneak through unscathed.

Landlord dies. What’s next?  Dark wall looms on the outer bar. Scratch like hell at the leaden water.

Nephew inherits place. He’s got plans. You’re not part of them. Not gonna make it. Forget the duck dive. Straight up dive for deepwater.

Back to the car and couches. Fewer couches now. Seems everyone else has been caught inside too. Car it is. Whatever it takes to get by. Swim in. Recover board on The Beach.

Not broken.


*sidenote: to this day I have never ridden a wave here, only paddled around in vein

“All that Remains”

Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 20″ x 10″
Year: 2017



Cerebral flapjacks cooking on the whiskey bar
Artificial roller coaster couldn’t beat the bumper car
Creepers in the bushes don’t look now it aint no good
Sterilize, sanitize, scrub it kook, give em all your food

Paint the cave, take a bath, what about the money
Stick parade, children laugh, hide them from the sun
Drink the water, drink the brine, eat the fish and honey
Leave a tip, exit quick, once the eatin’s done

Sun and wind, electric eels, drying on a line
The pizza burned the house down and blamed it on the wine
Our feet are wet with old concrete the romans laid to last through time
We checked the clock the time ran out but they said they didn’t mind

How about the old ones, still soaking in the past?
The love they made, the things they said, none of which would last
They wrote their names upon the walls like flowers through the cracks
They killed the sky, they drowned the moon, they wrote them loud and fast

Look around, make no sound, what is it we have gained?
This is it, nothing more, this is all that still remains


Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 20″ x 16″
Year: 2017


What’s in a name?

Just a few days earlier I’d surfed a spot hundreds of miles north, that goes by the same name as this one. Unknown to me at the time, a memorial was being held for a local surfer who’d recently passed away while surfing there.

The morning I woke up to make the 6 hour drive south with this destination on my mind to kick off this road trip, I was jarred by the news of another man’s passing. One I had just met for the first time a few weeks prior on my last road trip. I had known of him for years though, and I was keenly aware of all he had done for artists all over the world. He had launched careers, lifted up the struggling, showcased what others overlooked. I just wanted to shake his hand and say hello and it was an honor to do so, and now there would never be a follow up to that encounter.

Life is final like that.

And it’s precarious while it lasts. Like an urban wilderness. It’s there, giving of itself to any who will appreciate it, but it’s often trampled, misused, overlooked, and in a blink of an eye the bulldozer’s come and finish it. A juxtaposition of love and indifference.

Damn the bulldozers. Slow down and enjoy what matters while it lasts.

And if you ever have the chance to name a surf spot, please call it Life.

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