2006
LOS ANGELES TIMES
January 31, Orange County Edition
Surf Art Catches a Break
"Wolfgang Bloch, 42, of Laguna Beach is an abstract artist. But his highly textured work often blends paint with scrap metal, matchboxes, wood, posters and photographs."
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Surf Art Catches a Break
By Dan Weikel, Los Angeles Times
After decades of being seen as throwaway genre, it shakes off the sand, comes inside and wins favor with collectors.
When surfer and starving artist John Severson showed his work at a Laguna Beach gallery in 1955, his boldly colored abstract paintings of long-boarders and the California coast didn't set the art world on fire. Severson left as hungry as when he arrived, selling one piece for US$35. A half-century later, he returned to Laguna for two shows at the local Surf Gallery. This time, hundreds turned out for the opening receptions. Sushi and wine were served. Eager buyers snapped up scores of Severson's oils and watercolors, some costing thousands of dollars. Severson's art had clearly arrived. So had the genre he pioneered.
During the past decade, a number of artists have found that surfing is their muse. What was once a hobby for surfers with a knack for painting has been building in popularity, fueled by affluent aficionados of the sport and an industry grown rich on the fat of the sand. Collections of surf art have been making the rounds of museums across the United States. Galleries dedicated to the genre are opening, and original paintings that were once ignored by art collectors now command as much as US$75,000.
"Surf art in the 1970s and 1980s was really slow business," said Gordon McClelland, a Santa Ana art dealer, collector and historian. "In 1990, things started to take off. It's gone from six or seven people painting with any consistency to more than 60 people today, probably more."
Surf artists run the gamut of styles. They work in oils, watercolor and ink. Some print images using hand-carved wood blocks. Others create mixed- media works.
At its best, surf art conveys the "stoke" of the sport, the physical and mental euphoria that comes from a well- ridden wave. Its practitioners connect with nature, capture coastal landmarks threatened by development and reflect romanticized rituals such as waxing boards or walking on endless, remote beaches.
"Every surf artist is trying to express ineffable qualities," said Scott Hulet, an editor at Surfer's Journal who regularly writes reviews about the genre. "There's van art, woody art and perfectly airbrushed waves. Then you can go up the sophistication ladder as far as you want to climb."
Although European and American artists have been capturing surf scenes for more than a century, it was Severson, the founder of Surfer magazine in California, who popularized the genre. He began painting surfers and beach scenes in the mid-1950s as an art student at university. Without a market for his art, Severson occasionally used his magazine as a showcase.
In 1963, he placed Surf Be Bop, a bold abstract painting, on the cover. The work, in bright shades of red, orange and yellow, depicts two surfers lounging on a beach with their boards on a hot summer day. It won national recognition and demonstrated that surf art could be fine art. After 10 years as owner-publisher, Severson sold the magazine in 1970 and used the proceeds to paint full-time. "No one was banging down the doors back then," said Severson, 72, who lives on the island of Maui, Hawaii. "The painting started to kick in about 15 to 20 years ago. It has created a whole field of painters. Of course, we have now flooded the market."
Like Severson, Wolfgang Bloch, 42, of Laguna Beach is an abstract artist. But his highly textured work often blends paint with scrap metal, matchboxes, wood, posters and photographs. For a national Surfrider Foundation fundraiser last year in New York, Bloch sawed a surfboard into pieces and assembled them like a mosaic inside a rectangular frame filled with translucent resin. The work is bisected by two thin, breaking waves in gleaming white. Bloch, who headed art departments for surf-wear manufacturers and the Indian Motorcycle Company before going out on his own, has been surfing since he was 12. His inspiration comes from the ocean and life along the California coast. "It's not typical surf art. I don't do pictures of palms and perfect waves peeling," said Bloch. "My work is more abstract, simplified. It's more about imaginary landscapes created by color and texture. It's something that just happens. I have an image in mind, but there is no conscious thinking or planning."
Colleen Hanley, a former competitive surfer, is one of the few women in the field. Two months ago, she became the official artist for Surfing America, the sport's national governing body. Her work will be used for promotions and sold to raise money. "I was always drawing waves in class in high school. I'd envision the dream wave to get me through the day," said Hanley, 28.
In contrast, the posters and paintings of Michael Cassidy are marked by a realistic style that faithfully depicts female surfers or wahines, surfers riding massive waves and the tropical landscapes of Tahiti and Hawaii.
Other artists - Kevin Short, Patrick Tobin, John Comer and Ken Auster - bring to mind the California Impressionists of the early 1900s, who painted coastlines, canyons, deserts, mountains and rugged foothills. "Those dead guys made it possible for us to make a living at this," said Short, 45.
So has the transformation of surfing from a sport of outcasts to a mainstream endeavor that supports an industry of surfboard manufacturers and sportswear companies. At the same time, many of the kids who started surfing in the 1950s, '60s and '70s have become affluent in middle age. They now have the cash to collect the trappings of their sport - woody station wagons, vintage surfboards and art. "For a long time, surf-related culture was just a throwaway thing. No one had any interest in collecting this material," said Bolton Colburn, a former amateur surfing champion who directs the Laguna Art Museum.
From 2002 to 2005, Colburn helped assemble a collection of surf-related work and displayed it at the Laguna museum and venues nationwide, including Hawaii and New York. The well- attended exhibition was a collage of cartoons, surf-movie posters, commercial art, sculpture, surfboard graphics and paintings. "One of the most compelling things about surf art is that the really good artists capture the surf stoke," said Allan Seymour, a collector and dealer of high-end surf art and memorabilia. "That is why people buy it." Early works by Severson - some of the ones he had a hard time selling as a young man - now command prices of up to US$20,000. Recent gallery prices for an oil painting by Tobin run as high as US$8,400.
At the Surfrider event in October, a 12-foot surfboard that became a canvas for artist Julian Schnabel sold at auction for US$75,000. Originals by Rick Griffin, a former staff artist at Surfer magazine whose vibrant psychedelic style was fostered by Severson, bring US$15,000 to US$25,000. Griffin's work also has left a strong impression on other painters, such as Short, who grew up reading Surfer magazine and copying the late artist's cartoons.
Short's work ranges from panoramic interpretations of Trestles, the famous surf spot in northern San Diego County, to the dilapidated Miramar Theatre in San Clemente, once a popular venue for surf movies. "I don't view my work as surf art," said Short. "It's more a reflection of local culture. The coast is where I am, and that is what I paint."
SURFERS MIND (Japan)
Summer Issue
Wolfgang Bloch
"Bloch manages to pay homage not just to the ocean's mysterious grandeur but also to these simple discarded materials. With the artist's great intention, plywood, scrap metal, fiberglass, and resin somehow defy their designations as crude materials and, when viewed as a part of the whole, are again elevated to objects as venerable as a tree."
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Wolfgang Bloch
If it was up to Wolfgang Bloch, what you are reading would be printed on post-consumer waste recycled and process chlorine free (PCW and PCF) matte paper.
Born forty-three years ago in Guayaquil, Ecuador's largest city, Bloch speaks today with an acute immediacy of (and a fond longing for) his childhood steeped in the rich and impassioned essence of Latin American culture. "I remember the feeling I would get when I stepped into one of [Guayaquil's] great old cathedrals. You know, I'm more spiritual than I am religious, but it was that feeling that just made me want to bow my head." This awe for sacred places is integral to both his talent and his gifts, as his works both stem from and arouse a hushed reverence.
At the age of twelve, Bloch and his friends discovered the joy of surfing and, along with it, another place that would serve as a perennial source of sanctity and inspiration: the ocean and its environs. Sky, water, and earth are the elements common to every session a surfer enjoys and, as such, are the primary elements depicted in Bloch's art. It's understandable why, when asked who some of his greatest artistic influences are, he answers, "I'm inspired not by art as much as I am by life."
After enjoying a decade of well-noted commercial success,first as an art director for Gotcha Sportswear, later as a freelance artist/designer for such major companies as Quiksilver, Billabong, Roxy, Rusty, Rip Curl, O'neill, Vans, Jeep, Indian Motorcycles, and many others,Bloch's life today is dedicated to painting. More accurately, his knack for seeing the inherent beauty in the most basic and often unnoticed sights common to surfers, combined with his studied understanding of light, form, and space, is now focused on making transparent (and transcendent) his rare vision. This is his talent.
In his sparing portrayals, executed with an economy of visual content and with a wealth of materials we often discount as profane, Bloch manages to pay homage not just to the ocean's mysterious grandeur but also to these simple discarded materials. With the artist's great intention, plywood, scrap metal, fiberglass, and resin somehow defy their designations as crude materials and, when viewed as a part of the whole, are again elevated to objects as venerable as a tree.
A visit to Bloch's website (www.wolfgangbloch.com) provides further evidence of the artist's less-is-more philosophy and reveals more examples of his nostalgia for bygone eras and how recycling and bringing to the forefront such forgotten objects of the past may result in a sublime awareness of the present. His entire website is constructed around a discarded Hallicrafter broadcast receiver that Bloch discovered years ago. "I always knew that I would do something with it. It's really a beautiful piece of equipment. When I started thinking about designing my website, there it was."
If it was up to Wolfgang Bloch, we would all spend a few moments discovering forgotten aspects of our nature and become more aware of the consequences of our often hurried and thoughtless actions. The truth is, standing in front of one of Wolfgang's unhurried and thoughtful works, there's a good chance that after you've acknowledged his artistic prowess, you'll soon begin to feel something greater. It's not unlikely that you'll experience the same feeling Wolfgang used to feel when he stepped inside of one of Guayaquil's great old cathedrals. If you allow yourself to stand there a while, you might even feel the urge to bow your head and remember that life's greatest gifts are its simplest pleasures. This is his gift to us.
Mike Stice, Laguna Art Museum