THE AUSTRALIAN SURF RESURRECTION

Ladies and gentlemen and children of the insect, hot-doggers, kooks, rubbernecks, pork-choppers, cellar dwellars, swamp inhabitants sharpies and others; allow me to lay down the following news. This is to announce the death of the thinnest regime of truth which has dominated the art of surfing since the early epochs, from 1966 until yesterday morning at about 8:13 am, whereupon a think tank to do with a new style of on-edge surfing took place on the shores of Western Australia, Australia. No longer constrained by the mad insane complex of commerciality and sanitation which has reigned down upon the freedom and joy of what would otherwise be free thinking individuals, a contingent of surfers opened their minds to new dimensions of pure surf, direct from the id, portraying the limitlessness of the art as much as themselves; forsaking the demands of rule books and time itself, of suburban mind-locked defeatism. Lachlan Leckie of Coolangatta, New South Wales. Parrish Watts, Nooosa Heads, Queensland. Kent Turkich and Jock Bahen, locals but gypsies. As the sea turned to gold, the wind subsided, these boys really turned on. A style of surfing never seen in these parts. Growing awareness of what was at hand. Of the fragments, distant moments, thoughts, realities...coming together like atoms. A consolidated movement. A head-cock in the direction of Midget, a hint of Russel Hughes, gestures taken from the breadth of the glossary but improvised, unshackled, and generally in spite of mediocrity, homogeneity. If you go there. To Australia. Do be aware that a revolution of the self, of the spirit, is happening on those sunny shores, every very bit as much as an Australian Surf Resurrection. Kent Turkich