Journey
Ari Lurie And The Levi’S® X Outerknown Collab
Beautiful Ambiguity: The Cinematography Of Jake Magee
Socal Friends In Fairends
Link To The Links
Ghosts Of Pipe Masters Past
Behind The Lens: Walter Iooss
Alex Grossman’S Top Five Restaurants
Alex Grossman knows a thing or two about food. As creative director of Bon Appétit, he travels widely to the world’s hottest restaurants. But his eating odyssey didn’t start there. His first job, at age 12, was a dishwasher. Through his twenties he worked nearly every job there is in restaurants, from award-winning establishments like Le Bernardin to greasy spoon joints.
He’s passionate about his work: “I love taking the foods everyone’s seen over and over—roast chicken, sandwiches—and showing it in a way that’s hopefully never been shown before. Then, there’s trashy food—hot dogs, hamburgers, ice cream cones—that you can go really weird and more pop-y with.”
Here are Alex’s top five favorite restaurants:
Manfreds, Copenhagen
I reeeaaaallly love Copenhagen. It's such a cool city and such a great place to eat. And while Noma, which is there, might be the most impressive restaurant in the world, in many ways Manfreds is my favorite. They just do so many things right and they were so ahead of the curve: super-serious chef but very simple (almost casual) place, cheap DIY build-out but still really good vibes, religiously sourced, high technique food but very low-key plating (I mean the food visually looks quite normal), a real dedication to vegetables and treating meat more as a condiment rather than the main driving ingredient. Oh, and one of the best natural wine lists on the planet. On the latter point it's kind of crazy the wine he gets. The entire list is all naturally fermented which means no preservatives. Wine can really mess you up, all sorts of crazy shit in it—chemicals, pesticides, artificial yeasts, tons of bad shit. It's no wonder many people feel like shit drinking wine. Well, natural wine and especially really good natural wine like they have at Manfreds is of another level. I remember when I was there our waiter (who happened to be the som) said: “You ever try and chug wine? You can’t. You’ll get a gag reflex from the preservatives.” So he taught me that you can actually chug natural wine. Try it. Anyway, he literally gets winemakers driving extremely limited stuff up from France and Italy themselves because they so believe in his restaurants (and Noma). So it's an important place but you would never know based on what it looks like. I could go on and on but soooo many restaurants have copied elements of what they do and almost everyone has been influenced by its ethos. It's just so important for food to see a generation of superstar chefs focused on opening cool, inexpensive places with food and wine that is delicious and healthy that everyday people can go to. It's changing the world.
The Walrus and the Carpenter, Seattle
The highest compliment I could ever give a restaurant is that it is a perfect neighborhood restaurant. So many restaurants put so much emphasis on doing A LOT, to really get your attention—extra flavor, extra fat, weird combinations, tricky dishes—that it often gets to be too much. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love eating at places that challenge me, but neighborhood restaurants understand that to come back several times a week you have to have a menu that people really want to eat over and over again, with good but super-chill service, and in a space with a vibe that you want to hang out in. The Walrus and the Carpenter, an oyster bar at heart, is named after a Lewis Carroll poem and it just does all of these things really well. Don’t get me wrong, it has incredibly good fish and shellfish and happens to have the best oysters I’ve ever eaten in my life, but it also has a little extra magic. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Rene’s husband owns Hama Hama Oysters, one of the world’s great oyster farms. I could go in there and down 4-5 dozen easy. With a good bottle of wine in a cool space that is as good as it gets.
HaVL, Portland
To make truly great food is very hard. It just takes so much time to do just a few things really well, to perfect them. To do it consistently in a restaurant is near impossible. It just takes so much work and attention to detail. It really has to be personal because you truly have to love the process of doing it. This just seems so true about this little Vietnamese noodle and sandwich shop in Portland, Oregon—run by a 65-year-old woman named Ha “Christina” Luu and her 75-year-old partner—that makes the best soup noodles I’ve ever had. She makes two soups a day herself, totally from scratch, with high-quality ingredients, and sells them till they’re gone which is usually sometime midday. There’s some really out-there-sounding ones: Crabflake Noodle Soup, Snail Soup, Shrimpcake Noodles, as well as more normal-sounding Pho, but it depends on the day. I’ve probably had half of what she sells but everything I’ve ever had there is exceptional, an amazing balance of clean simplicity and flavor. It’s perfect.
Estela, New York
I think Estela is the best restaurant of the last decade in New York. Like restaurants like Manfreds, the two owners, Ignacio and Thomas, come from very high-end restaurant backgrounds and have put their efforts into making totally original food that is so simple and beautiful, that doesn’t cost a ton, and in a very unpretentious, even plain, spot. To do that anywhere is very cool but to do it in New York, where so few people are taking any risks at all due to the economics of it, is really special. The wine list is awesome. The owners are friends of mine and I’m just so impressed with their food. I just love it. It's weird to find a place that is doing “new” things with food but where every damn dish is just so delicious and crave-able. I literally love eating there.
Contramar, Mexico City
I think we’ve become so food-focused—and restaurateurs so cost-conscious—that we have forgotten that a great restaurant is about more than just food. Don’t get me wrong, the food at Contramar, which is all seafood, is driven in each morning from the coast and it is truly amazing. That said, it is the meal in its entirety that is so unique and special here. This is a “typical” meal at Contramar: arrive on a Saturday at 3 pm (the host knows you by name of course) and grab a table for six with your friends. A super-stylish, white dinner jacket-clad waiter arrives soon after you sit down and in a few words gets you going on some spicy tuna tostadas (and no, not just any tuna tostada but the best tostada of any kind you have ever put in your mouth), a round of micheladas, and some mezcal on ice. You repeat this drink order countless times for the next two hours, the waiter dropping by at the perfect moment here and there to bring you stunningly good food from the menu and off of it (aquachiles, whole grilled fish, ceviche, etc). Two of your friends leave halfway through only to be replaced by two to four other people you never met before. You get full at some point so you leave for an hour to walk around. You come back and sit back down to a table of now 10 (half of whom you don’t know) and eat “dinner," drinking and hanging out in a room packed with people doing exactly what you’re doing. The atmosphere is infectious. By the time you leave you’ve been there six hours and are in a food/alcohol coma but happy as can be about it.
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Jamie Brisick is a writer, photographer, and director. He surfed on the ASP world tour from 1986 to 1991. He has since documented surf culture extensively. His books include Becoming Westerly: Surf Champion Peter Drouyn’s Transformation into Westerly Windina, Roman & Williams: Things We Made, We Approach Our Martinis With Such High Expectations, Have Board, Will Travel: The Definitive History of Surf, Skate, and Snow, and The Eighties at Echo Beach. His writings and photographs have appeared in The Surfer’s Journal, The New York Times, and The Guardian. He was the editor of Surfing magazine from 1998-2000, and is presently the global editor of Huck. In 2008 he was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship. He lives in Los Angeles. For more of his work check out jamiebrisick.com & @jamiebrisick
Homespun: Mason & Serena'S Topanga Cabin
Mason St. Peter designs homes, commercial and retail spaces, and rustic cabins, specifically the one he and his wife, the artist Serena Mitnik-Miller, built in the bohemian enclave of Topanga Canyon. It’s a super cozy 120 square feet. It feels a thousand miles away from urban Los Angeles. Mason and Serena live in San Francisco. While working on General Store, an artisan-themed retail outlet in Venice, they stumbled on what would become their second home.
Mason explains, “Serena and I went to see a friend’s studio in Topanga Canyon and we instantly fell in love with the place. We met the owner of the property, struck up a dialogue, and he encouraged us to build our own space using materials he’d collected. We started construction in the spring of 2011. The owner was really into doing something off-grid. His ethos was ‘fight authority and use recycled materials.’”
Mason and Serena designed the place together. First they cleared the property, then they catalogued the materials, then they started building. It took them two years to finish, but that’s because they worked on it only one or two weekends per month, enlisting friends to give them a hand. “It would have been about a total of two months building time if you put all the weekends together,” says Mason.
The cabin sits on a 20’ by 20’ deck. It’s 12’ tall on one side and 14’ tall on the other. “It’s all totally legal,” says Mason. “There’s no electricity or running water. We built a loft—the sleeping area is up above. We built in a desk and cubbies where we could store and stash things away. It’s south facing, so it takes advantage of the best light in the canyon, which isn’t that great ‘cause there’s tons of trees.
And the cost? Mason points out that nearly all of the materials are re-used or “kind of scrounged”—some left over from job sites in San Francisco, even some posts and piles from the Santa Monica pier. “Receipts totaled about $4,000,” he says. “And the really cool thing is we ended up buying a home across the street from the cabin, so now it acts as our guest house.”
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Jamie Brisick is a writer, photographer, and director. He surfed on the ASP world tour from 1986 to 1991. He has since documented surf culture extensively. His books include Becoming Westerly: Surf Champion Peter Drouyn’s Transformation into Westerly Windina, Roman & Williams: Things We Made, We Approach Our Martinis With Such High Expectations, Have Board, Will Travel: The Definitive History of Surf, Skate, and Snow, and The Eighties at Echo Beach. His writings and photographs have appeared in The Surfer’s Journal, The New York Times, and The Guardian. He was the editor of Surfing magazine from 1998-2000, and is presently the global editor of Huck. In 2008 he was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship. He lives in Los Angeles. For more of his work check out jamiebrisick.com & @jamiebrisick
The Day Yohji Yamamoto Went Surfing
"I was under a preconception that surfers were like punk wannabes preoccupied with being cool or bad and the whole point of it was like doing tricks."- Yohji Yamamoto
About fifteen years ago, Takuji Masuda met fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto while working on a project in Japan. Tak is one of surfing’s great ambassadors, turning people onto the sport of kings is one of his biggest joys. Yohji is a masterful and avant-garde tailor, the founder the labels Yohji Yamamoto and Y3. Tak brought Yohji to a spot near Kamakura, a beginner-friendly wave just outside of Tokyo. He pushed him into the knee-high rollers. “It was like undressing the dresser,” laughs Tak.
Later, Tak asked Yohji for his take on the session. Here’s what he said: “I really think you have to stick to your attitude towards what you are doing. I say this because for non-surfers there is a sort of high fence to enter that culture.
Very uninviting image. Oh, I had this image of surfing before I went. But after going to the beach with you and your friends the other day, my image for surfing completely changed. I was under a preconception that surfers were like punk wannabes preoccupied with being cool or bad and the whole point of it was like doing tricks. However, you were like, ‘No, it’s not like that.’ The most impressive thing for me that day was to find that you people were intensely focused on playing with the sea, having a blast. It was like seeing men being childish in a very good way. And if it’s like that, I can really get into it.”
Photographer Taisuke Yokoyama was on hand to shoot pics. Below are a few.
Jamie Brisick is a writer, photographer, and director. He surfed on the ASP world tour from 1986 to 1991. He has since documented surf culture extensively. His books include Becoming Westerly: Surf Champion Peter Drouyn’s Transformation into Westerly Windina, Roman & Williams: Things We Made, We Approach Our Martinis With Such High Expectations, Have Board, Will Travel: The Definitive History of Surf, Skate, and Snow, and The Eighties at Echo Beach. His writings and photographs have appeared in The Surfer’s Journal, The New York Times, and The Guardian. He was the editor of Surfing magazine from 1998-2000, and is presently the global editor of Huck. In 2008 he was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship. He lives in Los Angeles. For more of his work check out jamiebrisick.com & @jamiebrisick
Bruce Gilbert
Bruce's top three records. Photos by Jamie Brisick.
"At any given time I’m working on three or more shows, plus a movie or two in the background, generally an indie film or a documentary..." - Bruce Gilbert
I first met Bruce Gilbert on the North Shore of Oahu in 2006. He was traveling with Kelly Slater; in fact he’d done much of that year’s tour with Kelly. Bruce had been working as a music supervisor for movie trailers, but he’d hit a kind of ceiling and decided to take some time off. He and Kelly were friends, Kelly invited him along, and also invited him to shoot photos of what would be Kelly’s eighth world title campaign, many of which were featured in the book Kelly Slater: For the Love (see below). Bruce shot a ton of pics and surfed himself senseless (“That was the year of magical living, I surfed all the waves I’d dreamed of surfing!”). When the season finished he returned to Los Angeles and found his way into a working life that is quite magnificent.
Bruce is a music supervisor, which is to say he’s the reason why you get songs stuck in your head from watching TV and movies. Bruce is constantly listening to music. He taps his toes through breakfast and taps his fork and knife through dinner. Here, I’ll let him explain:
“At any given time I’m working on three or more shows, plus a movie or two in the background, generally an indie film or a documentary. My current shows are “Transparent,” on Amazon, and “Orange is the New Black,” on Netflix. I do “Childrens Hospital.” I just finished doing “Wet Hot American Summer,” an eight-episode prequel that aired on Netflix.
My earliest music memories start with Rush. I moved to Toronto, Canada from South Africa in 1976 and was spoon-fed classic rock, thanks to my older brother Craig. Rush played a huge part. And I ended up learning to play the drums when I was about ten years old, so Rush stuck with me for obvious reasons. Later it was Prince and Talking Heads. But songs and records that fucked me up? “Waiting Room” by Fugazi. The first time I heard that song I felt like it changed things. Bad Brains “I Against I.” Neil Young “Harvest.” And the first Coltrane Quartet album—that broke my brain. Elvin Jones plays drums on it—he’s like my spirit guide.
As far as putting music to scenes goes, I used to think music was doing its finest work when you were feeling a certain way but weren’t necessarily noticing the music. It was featured but it wasn’t drawing attention to itself, but it affected the overall emotion of the scene. So I feel like that is how score should operate. But then when I’m finding songs for a montage where the music features strongly, maybe vocals and lyrics, or maybe punctuating an episode with a big musical number, or a big musical idea, then I think it’s the exact opposite. Then the music becomes really conspicuous. You’re asking the audience to join you in celebrating a scene, or asking a question about what they just encountered.
Bruce's images from a year of traveling with Kelly: Kelly on the Uke; A flight from London to Paris; A board Bruce designed for Kelly; Kelly and Eddie on the North Shore.
"I listen to music all day. Each song passes through whatever particular filter I have engaged." - Bruce Gilbert
I listen to music all day. Each song passes through whatever particular filter I have engaged. My brain is compartmentalized in such a way that when I hear a song it sort of falls into a bin for one of the projects I’m working on. It’s good and bad. As a music freak, I don’t get to hear music just as music anymore. I’m always hearing stuff that I think I want to revisit at some point for a future project. So I’m on a steady diet of every possible thing I can jam into my ears. We’re living in a time when it’s never been easier to find music, but there’s never been more music to choose from. It’s tricky. I used to be worried that there was a perfect, perfect, perfect song and I didn’t know it. And then I had to let that go and settle into the idea that I could only draw from the music that I knew, and that that was good enough. Kelly once told me that he thought there was a perfect line to riding a wave. The idea that there is the truest way to something, and that you have access to it is a lovely pursuit.”
An exclusive playlist from Bruce:
Comfy In Nautica - Panda Bear
Journey in Satchidananda - Alice Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders
Dark Days (Main Theme) - DJ Shadow
Holy Thursday - David Axelrod
Arhegh Danagh - Tinariwen
Goatchild - Goat
Heart - Darkside
Radiate - The Chemical Brothers
Leb'Wohl - NEU!
Jamie Brisick is a writer, photographer, and director. He surfed on the ASP world tour from 1986 to 1991. He has since documented surf culture extensively. His books include Becoming Westerly: Surf Champion Peter Drouyn’s Transformation into Westerly Windina, Roman & Williams: Things We Made, We Approach Our Martinis With Such High Expectations, Have Board, Will Travel: The Definitive History of Surf, Skate, and Snow, and The Eighties at Echo Beach. His writings and photographs have appeared in The Surfer’s Journal, The New York Times, and The Guardian. He was the editor of Surfing magazine from 1998-2000, and is presently the global editor of Huck. In 2008 he was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship. He lives in Los Angeles. For more of his work check out http://jamiebrisick.com & @jamiebrisick
Shore Pound Lost & Found
By choosing to not use any new material in his work, Mark brings to the forefront the idea of how we consume by creatively reusing and reclaiming items that in another light would just be seen as trash.
If you're unfamiliar with the artwork of legendary waterman Mark Cunningham, you're at a loss. His ability to take abandoned man-made objects out of the ocean and turn them into art pieces with such authenticity is something only a true waterman could do. By choosing to not use any new material in his work, Mark brings to the forefront the idea of how we consume by creatively reusing and reclaiming items that in another light would just be seen as trash.
For his most recent show, Mark pairs the remains of wipeouts like fins, coins, cameras, watches, keys, and sunglasses – all of which he discovers while diving the reefs and beaches on Oahu's North Shore.
As a canvas Mark uses flotsam and jetsam he finds while beachcombing between Kahuku and Makapuu on Oahu's windward shores. Piecing these items together, Mark creates visual stories from likeminded treasure in an attempt to recover their mysterious history, while also pushing forward ideas of environmental consciousness by creating a sustainable, completely recycled installation. It’s Mark’s whole-minded approach to his work that makes his art so authentic and so compelling.
Below is the full selection from of Mark's work from 'Shore Pound Lost and Found' now featured at Wittmore in DTLA through the 15th of November
Click Below for directions to Wittmore
