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The Springs Fire

Pock pock pockata pock pock pock…. I had been dreaming of helos, hovering. I awoke to the stacatto rhythm of rain on the roof. In the dark, I figured it must be around 3 am. I was wide awake and thinking about the events of the last few days. Deep breath. Hmm wow, first time I have been able to take one of those in awhile. Funny what we may take for granted. Little things like breathing. My wife lay on her back next to me, I could hear the faint rattle in her chest as she slept. We both

A Day at the Beach

My parents moved to California when I was four. It was at that time when I saw my first surfer gliding to shore on the South Side of the Manhatten Pier. We lived in a walk up a couple blocks from the beach. I have no idea why a four year old would retain such sharp memories. I can only assume he was getting his foundation tutored to him by the land and sea. In the years since, I have seen a LOT of change in this State. My understanding of the place comes from a deep connection to our

Surf Session

It is actually sort of rare for me to shoot surfing centric images. Often what is required to make a great image is even more complex than what is necessary to make a great break fire on all cylinders. So having everything line up: talent, weather, swell, tide, attitude, schedule, is pretty rare. But when it happens. The quantity and bar of the work produced is mind blowing. This week has been session after session. This was yesterday. Perfect day for what I do, when I finally  focus on surf. Hans Rathje is the surfer. One of those guys who

Deep

Some of us may have thought that it was an oxymoron to call our locally produced little magazine, Deep. I mean as paper publishing began to spiral, here were a bunch of us doing a locally based magazine called Deep. It had seemed a little bit ironic.  The publication was based on one begun in Goleta originally and called Wetsand Magazine. It was soon absorbed by the News Press and was called Blue Edge. As the News Press version tailspun in response to business issues, Deep sprung up, and many if not all of the contributors began to throw in

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The Springs Fire

Pock pock pockata pock pock pock…. I had been dreaming of helos, hovering. I awoke to the stacatto rhythm of rain on the roof. In the dark, I figured it must be around 3 am. I was wide awake and

A Day at the Beach

My parents moved to California when I was four. It was at that time when I saw my first surfer gliding to shore on the South Side of the Manhatten Pier. We lived in a walk up a couple blocks

Surf Session

It is actually sort of rare for me to shoot surfing centric images. Often what is required to make a great image is even more complex than what is necessary to make a great break fire on all cylinders. So

Deep

Some of us may have thought that it was an oxymoron to call our locally produced little magazine, Deep. I mean as paper publishing began to spiral, here were a bunch of us doing a locally based magazine called Deep.