Between two worlds. The haves and the have-not-as-muches. The elite and the illicit. The sacred and the profane. The billionaires and the bankrupt. And everything in between. This place is hiding in plain sight. And so was I while painting it. Over the roped off area, sneaking a view of this peak, the prime spot in plain sight from the well traveled path on the grounds of an infamous con-man-in-chief, whose hired staff may or may not care that I was painting where I was. Only one way to find out.
They didn’t care.
But even if they had, I went after this one fast, laying a sketch at breakneck speed, so that even if I got the jackboot before I could finish, I’d at least have enough information on the canvas to get ‘er done later. It was worth the effort. This would mean a lot to it’s eventual owner, a surfer who pioneered this wave that had been considered unrideable by those who came before him. And not only that, he resisted the naked territorialism that was familiar to the north and south of this place, inspiring the next generation to guard this special place with aloha and skill instead of zip codes and fists.
An old friend who was part of this generation rallied the crew to have me paint this for the man they hold in the highest regard and who is now suffering a slow and painful illness. It’s an honor I can hardly describe, and I hope it brings back a million good memories every time he looks at it.