Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Perranporth Triathlon 2008 Pictures


... are now on-line for those who have been emailing me asking where they were. Thanks to Jonty & Giles for helping out with the snaps! If you didn't click on the picture, you can wade through the shots here.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Cornish Rollers Wash Up At The Driftwood

cornish rollers

Cornish Rollers by Sam Walsh

I'm up to my oxters with this damn building project but, like a determined sperm seeking to pierce the egg, a PR shot from the Driftwood Gallery has wriggled its way past all the other trash in my in-tray for release here. I generally find "galleries" places where priced up pretension parades from dawn 'til dusk but I will make an exception for the Driftwood. Afterall, the flotsam and jetsam that washes up there from time to time did introduce me to Harry Daily and, based on the blurb and, more importantly, the images below, I definitely, positively want to check out Mr.Walsh's work.

lab_image_colour_blindness" Cornish Rollers", pictured above, reminds me of those eye tests you had at school to check for colour blindness. If you can see a number in there, do let me know - just in case. I picked this image as my favourite from those Cherie at the Driftwood mailed me. The second picture below was actually the one that caught my eye. It's called ‘Fistral Ballet’ and "it’s about collective humanity moving through space." Are we all moving to Mars? I'm not sure what that means but it chimed with images in my head from the weekend when circa 200 triatheletes gathered on Perranporth beach, heads shrink wrapped with yellow swim caps ready to swim, cycle and run 'til they dropped. Art mimics life they say, or is it the other way round? PR below ...

Sam Walsh will be at the Driftwood Gallery in Truro on Saturday, November 8th from 2pm to 5pm to launch some specially selected original paintings from his personal diaries.

Sam, now in his early sixties, found his way south to Cornwall during his late teens with a desire to improve his life. In the mid sixties he found his creative domicile in the small Cornish village of Newquay, on the North Atlantic Coast and became embraced by its embryonic culture.


Fistral Ballet By Sam Walsh

A man for whom the painted image is far more natural than the written word, he uses his art to express his emotional voyage upon the sea of life. Sam is dyslexic and admits his inability to represent his thoughts and feelings in the written form leaves him sad but this fuels his constant search to leave his mark through his art. Sam says his favourite artists are the cave painters of aeons before, who with no written language available to them, chose form and colour to represent their living world.

Taking a therapeutic approach to this artistic journey, he suggests his work is a collision of colours which record his emotions in a formatted visual expression at a specific moment in time. Each of Sam’s paintings or sculptures is a page in a very personal diary. Strongly influenced by Surfing and fellow Surfers; many of his images depict surf saturated beaches of local renown, and local surf culture influences his work clearly. He has many strong ties with people of the sport and seems to have a thorough understanding of ‘surfers’ and what makes them tick.

In Sam’s own words, “My paintings are, for me, a multi-dimensional representation of the world that I see and feel. Sure, there are obstacles in life … and some of that moves me to want to leave messages about it. Plus simple joy sometimes needs a signpost for us to see it. I’m completely fulfilled to spend my time endeavouring to give shape, colour and form to my passing visions of life”.

After working in construction and then local radio, Sam left work to attend Camborne Art College in Cornwall for two years in which he completed an Access to Art course. Sam speaks very highly of the staff at the college giving special thanks his tutor Mr. Patrick Laurie. Soon after finishing college he won a competition to create a major piece of sculpture for a multi-million pound surfing complex on Fistral Beach in Newquay. He’s also had several exhibitions throughout Cornwall including a prestigious show in St.Ives.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Surfing Sold Everything...

...even Boney M albums - now there's a cat that really was gone.


Sunday, September 07, 2008

Wake Up Maggie...


Photo By Maggie Marsek

... I think I got something to say to you. I like your eye - I mean the one that looks through the lens of whatever camera(s) you use. I was going to spend time bastardising the magnificent Rod's lyrics but it all sounded too smart-ass to be witty, let alone sincere. I'll let your photographs elucidate & illuminate instead. If you haven't checked out Maggie Marsek's work before, then get clicking here now.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Mark Twain On Wipeouts


A fine chap called Gregory emailed me and had me wondering if I could be the next Face Of A Major Surf label. I have to say I wondered about that possibility for longer than a nanosecond - but only just. I spent much longer re-playing some waves caught & lost at the weekend. I was trying out a boogie board that Sea Nymph won in a raffle. The old hamstring is healing well but I figured I'd take the opportunity to flex a flipper and check the twinge factor. I got as much craic sitting out the back and watching some mates surf with the confidence and skill that comes with having spent time in the ocean from more or less around the time they gave up breastfeeding.

From Roughing It by Mark Twain

"In one place we came upon a large company of naked natives, of both sexes and all ages, amusing themselves with the national pastime of surf-bathing. Each heathen (sic) would paddle three or four hundred yards out to sea (taking a short board with him), then face the shore and wait for a particularly prodigious billow to come along; at the right moment he would fling his board upon its foamy crest and himself upon the board, and here he would come whizzing by like a bombshell! It did not seem that a lightning express-train could shoot along at a more hair-lifting speed. I tried surf-bathing once, subsequently, but made a failure of it. I got the board placed right, and at the right moment, too; but missed the connection myself. The board struck the shore in three-quarters of a second, without any cargo, and I struck the bottom about the same time, with a couple of barrels of water in me. None but natives ever master the art of surf-bathing thoroughly.

Ain't that the truth Mr.Twain...