9:06 pm Oct 5, 2010

We are proud to announce that Globe has won Transworld SURF’s Inaugural IMAGINARIUM Contest!

Like Transworld SKATEboarding’s “Skate & Create” Contest, this TW SURF version is the first contest of its kind– challenging the surfer, the photographer, the videographer, the creative team, the judges and eventually the reader. It was created to change the way we all view surf photography. We wanted to take it even further… Globe’s intent with this was to go beyond what we knew the others would do, to deliver something that would challenge all conventions and undeniably WIN the contest, and perhaps press the reset button on how surfing can be visually communicated. This is exactly what Joe G, Seth, Scott Soens, our photogs and our surf team did, despite multiple curve balls and challenges from all angles. So, I’d like you to join me in congratulating them on an incredible output. Below is the link, which explains the contest and how we won, replete with a video and some images from the awards presentation.

Check out the actual magazine, including the gatefold cover with our image and Victory announcement. It is the December 2010 issue and is on newsstands today.

“I’m like some king in whose corrupted veins Flows aged blood; who rules a land of rains; Who, young in years, is old in all distress; Who flees good council to find weirdness.” -Charles Baudelaire (bastardized in italics)

The Balinese sun has slipped from its noontime height. It has become redder and hotter. Humidity is to blame for the hotter. And this deserted beach, this deserted Balinese beach is an undulating, ululating, writhing mass of pink. Magenta. Ungu. The Balinese word for magenta. It is a sacred color here. And the undulating, ululating, writhing mass of magenta is female. Model female. Painted in worshipful repose. Taj throws his fins over the lip. Nate Tyler lien grabs. CJ Hobgood flies into the sky, seemingly touching the heavens. The pink models rub gorgeous hands across their glowingly nude bodies.

The ceremony was destined to happen. The gods willed it while Dion flew from Sydney to Bali next to filmmaker Joe G. His eardrum ruptured, causing severe pain. Head slamming pain. And when his flight landed he was rushed to the emergency room where he sat, waited, and finally received confirmation. A ruptured eardrum.

The rest of the Globe crew were already heading to Sumbawa to continue work on 0000. Sumbawa is barren, uncomfortable, but perfect surf. But no good living. Hard. Dion and Joe G stayed behind, in Bali. Unable to surf for days, unable to fly without risk of deafness. Something had to be done. A villa was promptly rented. The finest on the island. The Ipanema Resort featured infinity pools, in-room spas, private butler service, and perfect bedding. A sense of decadent empowerment developed. Something more had to be done. Dion and Joe went to a bar to sort options. Strong drink seemed the way to ensure complete success. There she was, the finest woman either had ever seen. A gift. Joe approached, drawn into the web. The gods continued to spin.

The woman told him she was a model and here, there were many models. They had come to wear swimsuits for fashion shoots. An idea took hold. A ceremony. In 3 days, there would be an offering to Ungu, the magenta god, bridge to spirit and divine love. The next day, the hand of a chief was shaken and a lonesome beach was secured. The day after, a casting at the villa. Models lined up around the pool and greeted the rest of the Globe team came stumbling in from perfect Lakey barrels but also dirt-in-the-hair filth. They were tired. They awoke from their haze upon seeing the sights before them. The Hobgoods stared, slack-jawed. Nate Tyler thought it was a dehydrated vision. Taj arrived nonplussed. He has seen this sort of thing before. And then, on this final day, a shrine, magenta, is erected. The models, who had been cast, smear themselves with magenta. The trash littering the beach, rocks and driftwood, a small Balinese child. Boats floating across the horizon. All magenta. Behind this, in the sea, Taj carves larger than expected surf. CJ soars. Nate Tyler alley-oops. Dion Agius smiles.

The gods are pleased.


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