It's been a bit of a busy week in Reef Land as both Liquid Notes, the Making of The Reef, and the ABC's broadcast of the Opera House performance have hit the airwaves, and we've been in the edit suite revisiting a few bits, just because we can, and we have the time. 

I've been working with Jonny Frank and Ed Saltau (check his site for some great stuff from the Reef), sitting in our little room, improving on some dreams...after all a good painting is rarely ever completely finished. 

Naturally all this with a view to a near Reef Redux in time for the February East Coast Tour.

Watching the broadcast of the performance I found particularly difficult as I am very close to it, know every moment and so when the cameras cut away from the vision to show the orchestra it was doing my head in, as, naturally, there is meaning invested in every visual and to have it missed was killing me.

Not that I didn't watch it through to the end as catching close up Richard and the rest of the orchestra do their thing gave me other insights that were precious in themselves.

The morning of the Opera House broadcast I spent half an hour on Radio Marinara having a chat with Bron and the team, which was a lot of fun. On hearing the podcast later I had at least managed to sound relaxed, which is a good thing, as sometimes I get a bit tongue tied with a microphone under my nose.

Other than that, very little surf to report, apart from a session at Phillip Island a couple of weeks back that was rewarded with the shot below, and a couple less flattering as my 58 year old tummy is not a six pack any more.. probably because of too many similarly named beverages.

Life. If you can't laugh....

Yesterday saw the end of a long run of great waves and balmy weather.

I'd had things to do most of the day, thankfully, but the late evening check of the water surprised me. Not many out, quite small, but glassy and beautiful too. 'Why not!' I thought, so a quick hour before dark delighted.

I'd taken out my hull, a 6'6" trimming machine. It sort of takes the pressure off. You really just have to go with what the wave dishes up, fly around sections, style a bit, (pause while I stop laughing) and relax. 

The light as the sun shot occasionally through the low clouds was just short of divine, though on one wave the divinity factor shot through the roof, that or someone had slipped me something mildly psychedelic. Trimming along with fingers tracing the chest high lip line, wafts of spot lit spray were coming off the wall ahead. Embedded in them were little saturated rainbows, bright and proud agains the dark blue grey of the cloud reflected water.

As I said in a post a way back... 'the things I see, the things I see'.

A magic dusk, perfect for the festoon of grommits who'd paddled out for afterschool confections far sweeter than a bag of lollies. 

Pics: One lucky guy's solo session further up the reef past Bells, and what was on offer at Winki.

Orawa and other things.

After a request from the Australian Chamber Orchestra to put online (for overseas 'interests') a couple of specific snippets from the Reef a week or so back I uploaded what we call Orawa, named after the music behind it, composed by Wojciech Kilar.

It's one of my favourites, mainly because it took me a fair bit of pain to edit, some 46 hours or so, and perhaps too because there is a certain hypnotic quality to the cut, and the music. It is intended in its positioning in the film as a whole to be a transition from an extended exploration of the inland... back to the sea. After the protracted dry you certainly won't get any wetter unless you jump in yourself.

As to this past week or so, there have been a couple of days of good waves, I've been plugging away at my various 'projects', the world economy is slow and don't I know, but progress is a happening and I have optimism buds a blossoming. We are about to re enter the edit suite for a couple of weeks to do a bit of tweaking for the Reef East Coast Tour. My magazine project now has two partners, one editorial, and one business. A design college is interested in me doing some teaching. Next year looks like it will be full.

Now if only I can convince my darling wife Sue the coast is a nice place to live, even for a city girl from London. So far it is a big ask.

(Sigh)

Today's pics a from a wander to a favourite cliff edge during a a windy day earlier this week. I like watching the wisps off the backs of waves in a blow. Black and white suits I think. All very low key, plus some sticks, and Orawa at the end. ( click on it to watch full screen.. it is worth it, just settle in to the windmill and relaxxxx)

Once this is posted it's onshore slop for me... a slight change from Bells a couple of days back, also included.

Orawa from Mick Sowry on Vimeo.

We're into a run of on shore winds. 

Moments flicker where a wave can be ridden, though my chances have been sabotaged largely as work and family take priority. 

Last week was a little different. I had Richard Tognetti of the ACO down for a holiday so we could combine work and the odd surf in some pretty tasty conditions.

Surfing being the new golf we really could claim productive time as we talked through some tickles to The Reef, and managed to catch some mighty fine waves too.

As the Sydney Concert of The Reef is going to be telecast on Australia's ABC next month, and a making of documentary shown the preceding week, I thought it time to give another, extended, taste. More challenging this time. After a delightful blast of Rameau's Les Boreades with Ryan Burch's windy artistry on an unglassed piece of polystyrene, we explore the darker inner land of The Reef with interpretations of Ligeti's Ramifications, and George Crumb's Night of the Electric Insects.

With hundreds of viewings of the closing scenes I am convinced ants speak English in antennae code. It's quite clear they are all saying "honey honey honey honey honey honey honey"

Pic to accompany the clip. Winki last Wednesday. I was getting barrelled at Bells.

Les Boreades/Ramifications/Electric Insects from Mick Sowry on Vimeo.

An odd day yesterday.

The swell had risen and I'd been missing out on the morning offshores because 'I had to stick to my list', that list being my little black book of to do's and thoughts, the Small Dark Dictator of My Days. 

Or one of them at least.

Yesterday the rebel in me said stuff it, revolution time, so I allowed myself a morning surf, while it was still good, instead of a grovel in the sharky dark in the onshore slop. (Note: A four metre Great White cruised through the line up two days ago.)

Winki was busy and a bit odd, but some four to five foot runners were whistling through at times, so it had a lot to say. 

All I had to say was 'just four good waves'. Three good waves out of three had me thinking a jackpot had been hit, knowing the place for over 40 years allowing a well read roaming of the lineup that for once kept yielding payoffs.

Sitting out the back and aiming to go in, I started to daydream about the last wave. "A big one and just wide enough to block the guys up the line. A barrel at the end of a good 200 yards would be nice"

Big Ask.

Blow me down if that is what appeared before me.

A cracker, broke up and out while I paddled for the lip line, catching everyone else inside. I managed a late take off, a long run, with a few happy turns and TWO good tube rides, in out, in out, as I hurtled towards Lowers. Straightened off and virtually stepped onto a low tide rock.

A good way to start a day.

The pics: Bells just after I got out of the water. Winki was better.

It's just come to the end of a very long run of swell down here.

Over the weekend it was very big indeed, and though Responsibility coupled with Catholic Guilt got in the way of abandoning all to the waves, I did manage some fun surfs. Saturday in particular was pretty damn massive, Bells and Winki a highway to hell with a sweep that drove most away, me included, with the few souls who braved it enduring a half mile or more sideways for, in the case of Winki, less than 50 yards out.

Those that did were managing a wave or two an hour so I dove down the coast to Winki's ugly sister, as it offered an easier paddle out if you timed it right, which I did, for a change. 

Eight to ten feet by my call, and after four pretty fun ones including a first very similar in size if not bigger to one I managed there last year. Round two saw me bashed and belted by a series of absolute floggings. I kept at it 'til a good(ish) one to come in on, accompanied by a headache from the beltings that left forty eight hours later.

The swell stayed until yesterday, slowly dropping but keeping the smiles on high beam.

The rest of the time has been spent working towards getting The Reef to its next stage, ie a film release, which is very much in the lap of the gods, and, on a whim, sticking some daydreams up on RedBubble just in case they earn me enough for the next block of wax.

The shot: a departing snap of a random wave just before leaving the car park on Saturday. It was the end of a ride and not a set.

Dusk is the new black it seems.

Since moving down to the coast to create a bit of space the late 'look at the sea' has been my regular evening escape, with oft times a quick dip as well.

A visit to the gym has been supplanted by a surf, something I cannot complain about, and with that betwixt hour comes the light. 

Sitting in the lineup in the darkening, the sights I see, the sights I see. The clear air and the south westerly aspect, facing the fronts, grants an anticipation of what is to come, the next day or more often the next hour as a black wall creeps then roars from the horizon to me, or simply a blast of light erupts as the sun clears the cloud banks. The world just lights up, a shiver of warmth to break the chill before the light fades, the shore beckons.

More often than not I don't have the camera, it not being of the waterproof variety, so the view from the drink is missed, which is sad as so often what a view it is.

The other thing about dusk being the new black is too often lately dusk has been my point of view.

I had a friend point out to me the other day that I am not the happy chappy I used to be, and I tend to gripe about the finances a little too often.

True.

Let's just say putting your life on the line to change it, getting into the arts as opposed to the commercial arts and timing it to coincide with the Big Crunch has done us no favours. Hero to zero. Combine that with a couple of kids full of potential but intent on testing the boundaries of what should not be done, and perhaps going a couple of miles past that and you have a happy man made very grumpy.

Now since most of what we create comes from our point of view, I've decided to change mine. My good mate Richie, one of three good mates named Richie, points out often enough, '...what is the glass? Half full or half empty?"

Indeed.

From the risks some great things have happened, some epic projects and absolutely incredible people to work with.

So today it's half full, the sun is shining, my kids are healthy, my wife still loves me, mad fool that she is, and I discover the other day The Reef is touring east coast Australia next year.

I may go for a little surf in the little waves later, but now, though it is Sunday and Fathers Day, I've got some work to do.

Pics: Dusks, and the surf from last week. It was rather good.