Debris Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
There was much debate about how to properly paint a surfboard. Jay
preferred Posca pens, but he had a number of friends that didn’t mind spray
paints or more traditional paint and brushes. Jay wasn’t a purist, and he wasn’t
one who believed the paint affected the ride. But he didn’t compete, so it wasn’t
so important to him. The Posca pens didn’t peel and they were easy to use. He
was happy about that. He was after the perfect balance of simplicity and
usability. Appearances came second. Jay wasn’t much of an artist, so it only
made sense that he didn’t get caught up with the look of the finished product.
He wanted something unique, even if it wasn’t the best, but more importantly he
just wanted it to work.
Jay wasn’t the best surfer. He had begun surfing in his early
teenage years and was competent, but he was safe and had very little skill. He
wasn’t a daredevil and he didn’t know any tricks. He wasn’t possessed with a
great amount of courage or talent. But he wasn’t trying for a sponsorship, and
he didn’t compete, so he didn’t really care about his lack of talent. He was
just out for fun.
Most of his friends were better surfers than he was. Most of his
friends had big dreams and tried to compete. Most of them weren’t really as
good as they hoped.
Jay liked to take pictures of his friends while they were surfing.
He wanted to make a coffee table book someday. He liked the fluid motion of the
waves. He liked the image of man riding on chaos, controlling nature, besting
it, even when it seemed as if nature could crush him at any moment. Water was
always being described as calm and peaceful, but Jay had seen the violence and
destruction it could bring. That was what he tried to capture in his
photography. He wanted to express the danger and the surfer’s resolve to
overcome. If he could name his art book anything, that might be it – “Overcome.”
He didn’t know if he was a good enough photographer to really create art, but
he didn’t let that stop him.
There had been a flood of junk washing up on the beaches. Jay had
read about tsunamis in Indonesia and Japan washing up all kinds of human trash
overseas. He didn’t know if the trash that was arriving had anything to do with
that. He sort of hoped it was from one of the trash islands he had read about.
Not that he wanted more trash on the beaches or in the water, but if he had to
have it, he wanted there to be a good story behind it all.
Jay took a really good picture of the beach – in one direction was
nature, in the other was the city skyline running into the trash strewn water.
He liked the juxtaposition of the composition. On one side was paradise, while
on the other, all the problems of modern day man.
Jay tried to take photographs of his friends while they surfed in
the trash filled water. He was hoping to get the perfect shot of a surfer
getting barreled with the trash swirling all around. There was something sick
and twisted to it, something to show both man’s domination over nature and his
destruction of nature at the same time. It would be a perfect picture of man
leaving his mark behind. If he could get a really good shot, he thought he
might use it for the cover of his book.
Jay sat on the beach with his camera and his board, looking out at
the waves crashing. It was still early in the morning. There were still plenty
of waves. It was just that no one felt like surfing.
The dead body had washed up on shore a little over an hour ago. After
that, the day was pretty much ruined for Jay and his friends.
The police had been called. Most of his friends had already taken
off. Jay waited and hung around. He wasn’t sure what he was going to see or why
he wanted to watch it. There was something so terribly macabre about it that intrigued
him. He had been so concerned with the trash and the waves and the perfect
picture, meanwhile there had been a perfectly good dead body surfing
nearby. He felt bad for thinking it, but he really wished he had seen it and been
able to get a photograph.
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