25 Search Results for "painting"
- From: patclayton
Sequences capture the flow and imagination of the riders, a hybrid between filming and stills. These shots capture it from start to finish.
Shane Cottom, Bridger Bowl Photo: Patrick Clayton
Blair Elliot, Big Sky Photo: Colton Stiffler
Forrest Cole charging the fouth class like a boss Photo: Colton Stiffler
Shane Cottom, 4th virtue, Bridger Bowl, Photo: Patrick Clayton
Austin Trimback, over a ravine, Teton Pass, Photo: Colton Stiffler
Jed Donnelly cooling off, Gallatin River, Photo: Colton Stiffler
Ryan Kemp, Moonlight Basin backcountry, Photo: Colton Stiffler
Chris Bangs, Human Powered Mountaineers, Cleo’s Hyalite Canyon, Photo: Patrick Clayton
Pete Costanti not letting being in his 30s slow him down. A check off the bucket list, Baker road gap, Photo: Colton Stiffler
Shane Cottom, Cream Jeans, The Ridge, Bridger Bowl, Montana Photo: Patrick Clayton
Shane Cottom, Slushman’s airtime Photo: Patrick Clayton
Kelsey Boleski, Bridger Bowl, Montana, Photo: Patrick Clayton
On the deck; p30 Neptune painting houses red in Paradise Valley, Montana. Calm mind and nerves of steel into 45 mph gusts, one bad mofo pilot sticking his line. Photo: Patrick Clayton
Eagle: Colton Stiffler Osprey: Patrick Clayton
Kyle Taylor hot and fast off the top, winning the Moonlight Basin comp Photo: Patrick Clayton
Colin Stemper, Moonlight Basin FWT qualifier. Photo: Colton Stiffler
Orion Helms in the crazies. Photo: Patrick Clayton
Thomas Brown, front flip 180 Photo: Colton Stiffler
Long and convoluted, consequential and intense. These are the lines sequences best do them justice. Places where the focus must remain as intense 6 or 8 seconds in as it was on the lip. Things comin’ at mach speed, maybe the place you wanted to be was a few feet over there or the snow wasn’t quite what you expected. The mind must calm as you slip deeper into the zone or else the last half goes bad at speed. Anjen Herndon sticks it on Big T falls. Photo: Patrick Clayton
Shane Cottom above the inversion, Bridger Bowl, Montana Photo: Patrick Clayton
Jed Donnelly finds the takeoff and landing Photo: Colton Stiffler
Photography is fun, shop for your next DSLR camera at Amazon.com
Thanks to : Bridger Bowl, Big Sky, Moonlight Basin, Jed Donnelly, Colin Stemper, Blair Elliot, Thomas Brown, Austin Trimbach, Pete Costanti, Forrest Cole, Kelsey Boleski, Shane Cottom, Anjen Herndon, Orion Helms, Kyle Taylor, Human Powered mountaineers, Chris Bangs, the pilot, and the birds….
Colton Stiffler: www.coltonstifflerphotography.com
- Blog post
- 3 months ago
- Views: 180
- Not yet rated
One the deck; p30 Neptune pain One the deck; p30 Neptune painting houses red in Paradise Valley, Montana. Calm mind and nerves of steel into 45 mph gusts, on
- From: patclayton
Description:One the deck; p30 Neptune painting houses red in Paradise Valley, Montana. Calm mind and nerves of steel into 45 mph gusts, one bad mofo pilot sticking his line. Photo: Patrick Clayton
- 3 months ago
- Views: 92
- Not yet rated
- From: kimhavell
Chris Davenport skis a chute in Antarctica. Photo by Jim Harris.
“Through The Lens” is a regular column on TetonGravity.com that highlights the work of a photographer in the ski and snowboard industries. The series exists to celebrate the photographers who bring us extraordinary imagery, to get to know who they are, and to understand their process.
Jim Harris is a TGR success story. An athlete with an artistic eye and a photographer of great strength and perseverance, Jim hit the big time from an unlikely start. Through honest and thoughtful posts on the TGR web forums, Jim unwittingly developed a huge following and grabbed the attention of industry players. Proving himself time and time again in the field and at the computer, Jim has photographs, stories, and drawings featured across varied media spots, print and online, in the world of adventure sport. He is humble, adventurous, and bright, and gets things done.
Jim has been behind the lens for Sweetgrass Productions, Powderwhore Productions, Camp4Collective, First Ascent, Powder Magazine and more. From scaling 20,000-foot peaks in Bolivia to descending steep couloirs in Antarctica to negotiating a pack raft down Alaskan rivers, this motivated talent keeps at it as he proves that with heart and hard work, success will be a reality.
Jim’s sincere and straight-up approach resonates with his audiences. Follow his creative journeys as “GnarWhale” on TGR and as Perpetual Weekend online at his Blog, Facebook page, Instagram, and Twitter sites. www.perpetualweekend.com
Forrest McCarthy melts water at a ridge line campsite as a storm rolls in. Photo by Jim Harris.
I was first interested in photography when I was a kid playing with this all-metal Nikormat that my dad had brought back from Japan a decade or two before I was born. I didn’t develop a twitchy shutter button finger until I was around 16 and started documenting the graffiti scene where I grew up. Looking back at those boxes of prints, I was pretty much just mechanically recording ephemeral art. A few years later I extracted myself from that scene by moving to Montana where I enrolled in Wildlife Biology and Fine Art courses. The blend of planning, creativity, daring, and community that made the street art scene compelling also runs through mountain culture. It didn’t take but a few weeks in Montana before I began pointing my camera at people on mountains.
Studying Wildlife Biology seemed like a good route to finding a job that combined adventure with critical thinking, plus I was good at plant and animal identification. An empirical science education has proved to be a good framework for learning about the world, even though I never took up wearing one of those flat-brim Smokey hats. The fine art courses were just for kicks, but I regret missing the memo that my university had a Photo Journalism school.
Andrew McLean skis the Chugach Mountains in Alaska. Photo by Jim Harris.
While I’d been registered on TetonGravity.com’s message board for years, I rarely visited until I moved to the Wasatch Mountains in 2007 and discovered it offered a way to meet backcountry touring partners. Then I began posting photos of ski tours and that led to invites on more missions. One of those photo essays prompted Gordy Peifer to offer me a spot on one of his Straightline Advenutures Ski Camps, and another trip report garnered an invite to shoot with Powderewhore Productions in Alaska. That AK trip, in turn, resulted in my first print-published words and photos (Powder Magazine 40.1 “Beast out of the Earth”). Then I won a TGR and Smith Optics photo contest where the prize was an Ice Axe Expeditions ski cruise to Antarctica.
I was sharing just for the sake of sharing and that idealism struck a chord with people. If I suddenly couldn’t sell photos and stories about the sort of trips I like to take, I’d be okay going right back to doing them just for the intrinsic rewards.
Hi-fives with Andrew McLean after discovering and skiing a rad chute in the Wrangell Mountains of Alaska. Photo by Jim Harris.
Media-makers who also are high-performance athletes hold a role I admire. Photographers who can climb and ski alongside top athletes are the ones who, most often I think, bring back something insightful to share.
Galen Rowell about tops my list of “photographers I wish had reincarnated as me.”
Christian Pondella has crafted a career shooting photos with skis on his pack, an ice axe in one hand and that shines through in his photos.
The Camp 4 Collective team brings boots-on-the-ledge perspective to their productions and it’s apparent in the art and illustrations of Renan Ozturk, Jeremy Collins and Adam Haynes.
Leslie Anthony writes with legitimacy in his words and Fitz Cahall’s Dirtbag Diaries carry that too.
What all of them have in common is this gonzo journalism approach where, because they can hang athletically, they’re able to convey a first-person narrative that offers candid, humanizing insights into the lives of super-human athletes.
On the business side, I admire the people who help others to create content in our ski media ecosystem. When done well, enabling other peoples’ creativity is good for one’s own income. The TGR Forums empowered me and I hope the web ad revenue more than pays for the server space.
Photographers Adam Barker and Chase Jarvis both open source some of their knowledge via web interviews and tutorials. They’re investing their knowledge in aspirant photographers while legitimizing their expertise at the same time. It’s both altruistic and shrewd.
Sunrise on Illimani, Bolivia, while the city of La Paz still sleeps. Photo by Jim Harris.
I want to be a really good storyteller. Sometimes when I speak, my thoughts branch into a tangent, then a tangent of that, until I’m caught in a spiraling fractal of storylines and everyone has stopped listening. So it takes some intention for me to spin a story well. Photo essays keep me on point and the narrative jogging along.
At some heady level, wilderness adventure stories like the ones I want to tell are another variant of Joe Campbell’s monomyth: the hero marches off into the wild, conquers something untamable, perhaps then realizes that the real conquest happened inside his or her head, and then returns home to share the new wisdom.
My challenge is that I don’t want to just tell those stories but want to actually watch them unfold too. Going up and down difficult mountains with interesting people carves as close to living that myth as I know how to get.
Alan Schwer hops down a steep ski line at 19,000 feet on Volcan Pomarape, Bolivia. Photo by Jim Harris.
The business-side of working as a self-employed creative is a murky learning curve. There’s no roadmap to “making it” and even things as dry as sending photos for an editor to review turn out to involve diplomatic maneuvering. Many working photographers will tell you that your photos are only valuable if you keep ‘em squirreled away, unseen by anyone but the editor, right until they appear in print. While I see the wisdom in that approach, the only reason I’m paid to take photos now is because I’ve enjoyed sharing pictures in the past. So, I’ve continued to post photos on TGR, though I’ve become more strategic about sharing.
The ski photo world is a tough one to find recognition in, in part because much of it has fallen prey to this syndrome of collaborative competition where somebody says “Oh! Look at what they’re doing. We should be doing that too.” Photo buyers, photo makers, and athletes all push one another to converge. One outcome is that photographers face an uphill battle when it comes to creating marketable work that also conveys individual style.
On the other hand, who wants to feel like they’re leaving money on the table because they’re too elitist to take routine photos? Faced with that question, I’m no strict idealist. I’m not exactly shooting decorative cupcakes, but I’ve dug into commercial projects, studio opportunities, and jobs outside the ski industry. Sometimes they feel like art school assignments where students replicate some Old Master’s painting. Even if it’s not an approach that I’m particularly interested in, it’s impossible not to glean something useful. Those Elinchrom-lit sets are great for learning technique but they’re not where my aspirations lie.
Tyler Jones leads a climb in the Waddington Range while Seth and Solveig Waterfall follow. Photo by Jim Harris.
When I was about ten I was way into these Redwall books about mice doing medieval things. My parents took me to a reading by the author, Brian Jacques, at the neighborhood bookstore and he described to us kids around him that he’d worked as a sailor, and a truck driver, and a milkman, and some jobs that I’ve forgotten before he eventually became a writer too. The notion that one could do a lot of things in a lifetime, rather than be stuck with just one profession, took root in my ten-year-old cortex that day.
Photography has been my main focus for the last year or two, but it’s not my only outlet. I still dabble in woodcut printmaking, painting, shooting video, writing, and teaching. If this photo gig stops working out, I’ll always have the latitude to sidestep into one of these other roles.
Solveig Waterfall skiing from the summit of Mt Waddington, BC over a cavernous crevasse. Photo by Jim Harris.
One thing that distinguishes me from the pack is that I like unstaged, one-take, expedition shooting. Long and difficult trips are full of little victories and disappointments and they make for great photographic moments. As a member of an expedition team, I share credit and blame for the ups and downs I’m chronicling. Every bit of the process from planning, traveling, climbing, skiing, cooking, laughing and just surviving together is rewarding.
There are a couple big hurdles to being an expedition shooter. One is keeping one’s gear alive in the cold, wet, sandy, camera-killing places. That takes diligence but isn’t rocket surgery. Another is that one has to learn to suffer with grace. That takes practice and some balanced brain chemistry.
The biggest hurdle, however, is managing the dual loyalties of being both a weight-pulling team member while also caring enough about one’s audience to stop helping your buddies and grab the camera. Jabbing a camera in someone’s face in a cruxy moment can be a bridge-burning move. It takes a pretty keen awareness of the group dynamic plus articulate communication to balance photographic and team needs.
Before leaving for our first trip together, ski mountaineer Andrew McLean told me he was willing to ski for the camera but that he didn’t intend to re-hike anything for a missed shot. If you’ve skied with Andrew, you know that he zips uphill then right back down. Either I had to bully him into slowing down or learn to be quick on the draw, get the shot the first time, and not sulk when I misfired. I went with the second approach and haven’t regretted it.
One-take shooting is an ethos I’ve embraced. Shooting actual skiing down actual lines, as opposed to the ubiquitous one-turn-wonder approach, feels truthy. As a bonus, there’s a lot more skiing involved in a “work” day.
Chris Davenport skiing in Antarctica. Photo by Jim Harris.
Three years ago, three friends and I spent a month backpacking and then rafting across Wrangell St Elias National Park. That trip changed my view of what’s achievable by a small, unsponsored team. I felt empowered by our success and humbled by the times I faltered.
Back at home, I tried to summarize the story via a long column of captioned photos. The resulting trip report garnered a lot of attention that I never expected. Something about our mix of ambition, unique route, and amateur status really resonated with people, and not just the outdoorsy ones. Traffic poured in from Digg, Reddit and other link-sharing sites.
Years later, I’m still feeling the reverberations of that trip. I’ve been back to the Wrangells once and have plans for another trip this year. I’m also packing today for a crazy Mexico adventure that I’ve been invited on because a couple of Alaska’s most-audacious wilderness travelers saw my photo essay and thought I’d be a good fit for their team. Looking back, it is comical how many doors have opened for me based on something that I never guessed would have much impact.
Forrest McCarthy midway through a 120 mile traverse of the Abaroka Beartooth Mountains. Photo by Jim Harris.
There’s been this recent uptick in the ski industry’s acknowledgment that what we do is risky. At a fundamental level, action sports culture pushes the idea that “advancing the sport” or “pushing the envelope” is the loftiest goal an athlete can strive for. I think that presumption deserves some scrutiny because it is steering our risk-taking. We’re not going to revert to blue-square level skiing in movies but it’s worth acknowledging that there are perhaps less death-defying ways to “advance the sport.”
For me, that means looking for trips that are challenging because they’re remote, or because they require an endurance component, or because they offer a quirky perspective on the norm. Both writers and photographers search for unique angles. As someone with a growing grasp of both pursuits, I’m positioned to connect interesting story ideas with smart photos.
Jim Harris' Powder Magazine cover photo. Skier unknown.
A few years ago, I watched an acquaintance trigger and then swept by an avalanche. It was formative. It changed how I communicate with partners, how I plan for a tour, and is a continual reminder to make conservative choices.
Soon after that incident, I began teaching avalanche classes. Now that I’ve shifted to proselytizing wilderness skiing for a living, teaching the prophylactic aspect of it feels essential. Not only does it feel like righteous work but teaching avy classes also helps keep my skills honed.
At the other end of the spectrum, one of my photos is running on the cover of the new Powder Magazine Photo Annual. For someone who’s only been making a living as a photographer for just over a year, it’s like putting boots on at 9:30 and somehow still catching first chair. That cover isn’t recognition I’d expected to have so soon in my photo career, but I’m grateful for it.
Want to shoot like Jim, start with some high end DSLR camera gear available at Amazon.com
- Blog post
- 4 months ago
- Views: 203
- Not yet rated
- From: jeremybenson
I never thought I’d be so obsessed with skiing that I would base my entire life around having the freedom to ski absolutely everyday, but that’s what happened. I never would have thought I’d be a waiter, caterer, part-time landscaper, and half-assed freelance writer all at the same time, but that’s what I do. My college degree isn’t doing me much good, but I haven’t missed a powder day for 11 years and counting. Shit jobs have given me the freedom to ski as much as I can, live in an incredible place, and still make a living, sort of.
This series will attempt to profile some of the best and worst shit jobs in a ski town. Don’t get me wrong, in no way do I intend to bash professions like these, they are a means to an end, the axis upon which our mountain lives spin. Without jobs like these, how would you ski over 100 days a season and still be employed?
Part 3: Unemployment Collecting Seasonal Worker
Collecting unemployment may not sound like much of a job, but if you work a shit seasonal job for the purpose of getting laid off so you can collect unemployment all winter, then you know it can be damn hard work. Mountain towns offer myriad seasonal summer employment opportunities. Carpentry, landscaping, window washing, roofing, painting, excavation, asphalt maintenance, you name it and it’s probably a job that you can find a way to get laid off from. These types of positions are ideal for ski bums because this type of work typically takes place during the warmer months of the year, lets say from sometime in April ‘til around the beginning of November.
The hardest part of collecting unemployment all winter is busting your ass working a job that probably involves physical labor and is monotonous as hell all summer. Sure the manual labor is great to keep you buffed during the summer months, but most of the jobs listed above involve pretty much the same thing day in and day out, except for carpentry, maybe.
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The key to being able to collect unemployment all winter is having a boss who will lay you off. In California, where I live, you can’t collect unemployment if you quit a job or get fired, you need to be laid off to be eligible. Generally, if you’re getting laid off for the winter, that means you are likely to be rehired the following summer, so finding work at the end of the season shouldn’t be a worry.
Applying for your unemployment benefits is pretty simple and can generally be taken care of online in about 30 minutes. You might have to wait a couple weeks for the first check to arrive, but once it does you are effectively getting paid to go skiing. The maximum benefit amount per week in the state of California is $400, which adds up to around $1600 a month for doing absolutely nothing. The process has been made even easier now that they issue you a debit card and automatically deposit the payments into the account. You don’t even have to pick up a check or put it the bank!
Once your unemployment payments are rolling in, you’ve got nothing to do but ski and hang out afterwards. You can ski all day, every day; you’ve got nowhere to be and nothing to worry about. The mental agony of mowing the same 80 lawns every week all summer just melts away. When you’re done shredding you don’t have to go to some shit job and spend the whole night on your feet, you can go home and rest up for the next day, sip some beers, pull some tubes, maybe watch a little TV.
Your stress level is at an all-time low. Other than keeping your fridge stocked with beer and frozen pizzas, all you need to worry about is running out of weed or which one of bros has your lighter again, but you put a sticker on it, so you’ll probably find it. Sure, your parents think you’re a “drain on the system,” but it’s your money and you’re crushing it this winter, right?
Life on easy street is pretty easy, but don’t get me wrong, collecting unemployment all winter can be fraught with peril if you don’t play your cards right. Every two weeks you’ve got to check your mail, then fill out and send back the form to the unemployment office. In a haze of powder days, bingers, and beers, this can actually pose a bit of a problem. You’ve got no reason to go to the post office other than to pick up the most recent issue of Powder, and that only comes once a month and the last issue is sometime in February.
You’ve also got to use your imagination to keep coming up with places that you were “looking for work.” You may end up going through every one of your friends that manages something to get them to pretend you looked for work at their place of employment.
When you leave town to chase a storm or go to that backcountry lodge in BC, you’ve got to convince one of your stoner friends to check your mail, forge your signature, and send the form back in for you. Who knows if that’ll actually happen when your friends can’t even remember to give you back your lighter? A single missed unemployment form and all of the sudden you’re cut off for not being “available to accept work.”
The potential for boredom is also very real. Believe it or not, you could find the end of the Internet, and it won’t take long to realize how much TV actually sucks, except for the Daily Show. You might also need to buy some new slippers and maybe a nice pair of “house pants” for the hardcore lounging that will ensue. Luckily, you’ll have plenty of time to work on your POV edits. …
All of that free time in the evenings could really open up your schedule for extracurricular activities like drinking, video games, and recreational drug use. This usually isn’t a problem, until you start missing powder days because you were up all night playing Halo with your roommates, or you’re “too hung over.” Next thing you know the bar in town has a stool with your name on it, or you achieve true local status with your first DUI.
All that said, working a shit job all summer so you can collect unemployment all winter might just be the golden ticket, that is, if you can handle the responsibility.
- Blog post
- 6 months ago
- Views: 182
- Not yet rated
- From: almostawesome
Digital Painting in Photoshop, all hand painted except for the city... if I ever get the time, i'll paint it in. For now, its just a series of filters over it. A few things here and there to touch up on and add in.
- Blog post
- 10 months ago
- Views: 211
- Not yet rated
- From: gregfitzsimmons
From the cold, dark, kelpy waters north of San Francisco down to the warm point breaks surrounding San Diego, salty surfboard shapers have been shaving fiberglass blanks into customized boards tailored to the local breaks and each customer’s style for decades. To have a Pearson Arrow under your arm in Santa Cruz, a Channel Islands board in Santa Barbara, a Hobie in the San Onofre lineup or to wax up a KG in the Windansea parking lot means a lot — it means your board was made specifically for your style and your local spot.
The shaping bay is a special place in the surfshops that are sprinkled along California’s coastline. Blanks are crammed into the corner waiting to be shaped into a board, fiberglass shavings cake the old posters, photos, and tattered covers of surf magazines on the wall, and the shaper is always telling stories of the old days when crowds were nonexistent and swells consistent. I missed this scene after moving to Colorado from California. The ski world felt a bit remiss without the custom shaper.
Enter Wagner Custom, the Telluride-based company that makes skis specifically for each customer, based on their “Skier DNA.” From the second I pulled up to the trailer park in Placerville, Colorado, 10 miles outside of Telluride, and stepped into the solar-powered “factory,” the Wagner operation was reminiscent of the Santa Cruz shaping bays that I longed for.
In the front of the factory, a showroom displays gorgeous designs — powder skis with 1980s-style neon graphics, an artsy topsheet featuring a painting of Bob Dylan, wood veneer all-mountain carvers that your dad would freak about — and back in the factory, one-by-one the Wagner crew designs and presses pairs of skis with a thoughtful and meticulous approach.
Peter Wagner unpeels a new ski. Photo by William Woody.
“We’re a little different from surfboard shapers because we developed a scientific process for fitting people based on algorithms, data, analysis, and tests,” says Pete Wagner, founder of Wagner Custom Skis and Snowboards, who parlayed a previous life designing custom golf clubs in California into his current life in the San Juan Mountains. “It is a science because we collect real data and our design system is calibrated with the information we collect, just like the software I developed for swing analysis in the golf industry.”
Overseas, mega-brand ski factories produce upwards of 240,000 alpine setups annually. In Telluride, Wagner handcrafts around 900 custom ski designs a year; on a busy day, four or five skis will be completed. There’s a large discrepancy between the big guys and the small guys, but Wagner has carved a niche in the ski industry.
“It was intimidating to start a ski company in 2006. With my engineering, programming, and composites sports equipment design expertise, I saw an opportunity to create something new in the ski industry: A scientific method for determining and creating people’s perfect skis. I saw that the ‘canonized brands’ were pushing ski equipment into a commodity market. I thought that we could offer a clearly differentiated type of product and buying experience that makes a lot more sense. The ski industry is tough. The way we’ve found success is through working very hard to make every customer stoked.”
Unlike most ski-buying experiences that originate with a ski wall, the custom design process begins by answering a series of questions geared toward establishing the customer’s “Skier DNA.” Likes, dislikes, preferences, style, and terrain all factor into a person’s on-snow double helix. From concept to completion, the custom ski process takes about 3 weeks.
One of my biggest questions (or worries) boiled down to warranty. Can a small, boutique operation that crafts a ski on-demand have the backing that the big ski brands offer?
“Our official warranty states two years on materials and manufacturing,” answered Wagner. “We’ll re-design your skis or give you your money back if customers are unhappy, because we guarantee you’ll love your custom setup.”
Everything about Wagner’s business is personal and hands-on. Every time a pair of skis literally comes hot off the press, Wagner sends an email with a photo of the recently finished sticks to the customer that says, “Your skis were born today.” And, Pete Wagner carries the office phone in his jeans pocket throughout the day, answering calls himself, chatting with customers on a first-name basis, and receiving snow reports from people in Utah, California, and Vermont that are shredding on Wagners.
“Our stuff isn’t cheap, mainly because it can’t be with of all of the people that personally touch each pair of skis we make and the materials that we use.” says Wagner. “Sometimes I worry that some of the people on our skis are living off of Ramen, but there’s value in getting a dialed-in product that is a perfect fit and lasts.”
The pricepoint for a pair of personal skis is fairly expensive, but you get what you pay for. Just ask the recently crowned Champion of the Snowbird stop on the Subaru Freeskiing World Tour, Silas Chickering-Ayers, who has earned a Sickbird belt buckle and place atop the podium on Wagners.
For more, check out Wagner Custom Skis Website.
- Blog post
- 1 year ago
- Views: 538
- Not yet rated
- From: line_skis
DESIGNED BY ERIC POLLARD
This is Eric’s personal quiver of one. Plenty of width for the pow, tons of stability at speed, and the agility needed to use the entire mountain as his personal terrain park. NEW this year he’s added Early Rise to the tip and tail for even better float in the pow while maintaining plenty of effective edge & camber to still rip the hard pack.
Lengths: 162, 172, 182
Shape: 142-115-139This is the ski you and Eric can count on to turn your entire mountain into your own personal terrain ... Read more
This is the ski you and Eric can count on to turn your entire mountain into your own personal terrain park.
THE DEVELOPMENT STORY BY ERIC:
The art on the Bacon is an acrylic on wood painting of a massive color wheel and a tree with roots growing below. I won’t go into why I painted those, but believe me, it's deep.
The concept was for the Sir Francis Bacon to ride well in all conditions, something I could take up any day and not be disappointed.
The Engineering this year we added Early Rise in the tip and tail which dramatically helped it float without having to shift your weight. The early taper was critical in eliminating drag and hooking tips and tails in powder, as well as helping the tip and tail sit deeper in the pow (depending on which direction you are going). The bacon is the most versatile ski in my line, with a large waist, and a soft but very stable, symmetrical flex, making it easy to ride in the park, all over the mountain and in pow.
Check out the Nimbus videos to get a better idea of the way these skis were designed to be ridden.
- 3 years ago
- Views: 293
- Not yet rated
- From: JeremyJones
Ten years ago, during a recon flight to map out the mountains around Haines, AK, this face captured my imagination and never let go of it. The more I searched the world’s mountains the more I realized how unique and special this face was.
Because the peak was located just over the US boarder into Canada access was restricted to our US based heli operator. From the moment I realized the face was off-limits I started fantasizing about setting up camp and hiking to it from the US.
It became one of my reasons for starting the Deeper project. At the start of my first Deeper trip to AK two years ago I wrote, “if the stars align and somehow we are able to ride Corrugated then this whole project will be worth it regardless if I ride anything else.”
Three weeks into our first Deeper AK trip I finally made it to the ridge and looked down the face of Corrugated. Unfortunately, the conditions were marginal thanks to a harsh North wind that scraped the spines down to hard snow the day before. We decided to pull the plug and put it on the list for the following year’s trip.
This year I went into the AK trip with one goal, to ride Corrugated. I got lost on the way however (mentally, not physically), and ended up 50 miles past it at a zone in the Fairweather Range that was so stacked with spines it would become known as the Spine Institute.
After the best three week session of my life, and following the best morning of my life, I decided to push my luck and try to ride Corrugated on our way back towards Haines before an impending storm.
Our second 3 AM start came with out much pain. The excitement was high and we were off to hopefully shred Corrugated. Navigating the few miles of glacier in pitch black was easier than expected but a steeper than anticipated roll over had us all on guard do to the blackness it seemed to drain into. By twilight we were on the summit ridge and the sun started doing its magic, painting the high peaks around us pink.
The cornice guarded most of the face. I put Xavier on belay and he was guided to a 1 ft wide supported section on the ridge by the cameramen on the opposing ridge.
Dropping into the face was a feathering toe edge free fall with my head inches from the overhanging cornice. Twenty feet below my edge locked in and I made a long bottom turn and projected myself onto the main spine and proceeded to get engulfed by face shot after face shot of waist to chest deep powder. It seemed to go on forever and lulled me into a trance that I did not come out of until the large bergschrund at the bottom of the line.
The dream was complete. Corrugated was checked off the list.
As seen in Transworld Snowboarding’s 2011 Buyers Guide. Photo Tero Repo.
We skinned from camp up over the high ridge to the upper left of the photo and snowboarded down the glacier in the dark.
Our first look at the face. Our entry point is too the left of the rocks on the summit ridge. Missing it by a foot or two was not an option.
What dreams are made of.
Corrugated from the heli.
- Blog post
- 3 years ago
- Views: 744
- Not yet rated
- From: media-75233
We recently caught up with Dave Marlaire, a Salt Lake City-based painter and splitboard enthusiast. Here's our interview and a few of his pieces. To check out more of his work, visit Dave's website: http://MarlaireFineArt.com.
TGR: What's your background in art? When did you start doing split-focused pieces and what was your inspiration?
Dave: As far as I can remember I was always able to draw. My dad is an artist, so I must have inherited it from him. His creativity and work ethic has been a huge influence in my life. He has a great art studio and growing up as a kid I always watched him work on illustrations. In the art studio were books of different artists like Frank Frazetta. I drew a lot of comics growing up, took art classes in high school and then went to the American Academy of Art in Chicago were I studied oil painting and illustration.
After graduating college I got an office job as a creative designer of toys. It was a really fun job, but after ten years of that I really needed to get out west. I had some money saved and decided on Salt Lake because of the easy access to the Wasatch mountains and because they get stupid amounts of snow.
When I moved out here I took a full year off from working and rode almost everyday. I met some splitboard and tele friends who showed me around the backcountry and I learned a lot about snowpack, terrain management and avalanche safety. I just fell in love with splitboarding, every time you go out it's an adventure. I've been painting split-focused pieces for about two years now.
TGR: It's evident you've combined two passions--painting and splitboarding--in this work. What came first and how did they merge?
Dave: I've always wanted to paint landscapes, but not of your typical plein air subject matter. I would take pictures of all the tours we would go on and started painting them. I guess I'm just more passionate about split-boarding and mountain biking than an old barn or a bowl of fruit.
TGR: What's your favorite painting and why?
Dave: I like the Big Cottonwood Sunset because of the bold colors and the memories associated with the painting. I was on a late afternoon tour or "dusk patrol" and there was no one else out. It was peaceful, the air was cold and crisp, a foot of fresh, the sun was setting and the colors were going off. I was standing at the top of my line, snapped a couple pics and then made some turns.
TGR: Describe your ideal Wasatch day, from sunup to sundown.
Dave: Wake up, read a couple minutes, coffee, check email, paint 4-8 hours, coffee, mountain bike, rock climb, or snowboard depending on the season, barbecue, check email again, read, sleep. Or if its a pow day scratch all that and go ride!
TGR: Are your paintings based on photos, experiences or a mix of both?
Dave: I'd say a mix of both. When I'm in the backcountry, I try to identify subtle colors to incorporate into paintings back at the studio. There are a lot of hidden colors in the snow that you normally wouldn't think are there. Whenever I'm splitboarding and think that a specific scene would make a nice painting I take a photo and make some mental notes.
TGR: Where do you see your art going in the future?
Dave: Painting some spring/summer touring, mountain biking, or rock climbing pieces and to do more art festivals, gallery shows and commission work would be cool. I'm also working with a gallery to do a show in August, we'll see. I would be stoked to make a living from painting and to paint what I love.
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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
AWAKEN YOUR SENSES WITH ICELANTIC SKIS
Icelantic Skis to unveil its 2009/2010 product line under the theme “Awaken you Senses”
DENVER-SEPTEMBER 22nd, 2009. Icelantic skis, a Denver based ski manufacturer unveils its highly anticipated 2009-2010 ski line, along with a “sensationally” revamped website. Icelantic recently partnered with Colorado Ski Country USA to become the “Official Ski of Colorado” and is the recipient of ISPO’s award for Best Brand New Design for 2006.
Icelantic Skis is not your typical ski manufacturer; its headquarters are located in Denver’s historic Santa Fe Art District, a thriving historic neighborhood, home to the densest art gallery population outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. In addition to housing the original ski paintings archives, the Gallery is host to an eclectic mix of local artists and photographers – rotating every month. Each of Icelantic’s skis boasts a unique top sheet painting done by the company’s Art Director, Travis Parr. Since the company’s inception, Parr has been creating one-of-a-kind, striking paintings for each ski in Icelantic’s line up.
Each year, the skis are unveiled under a common theme, such as the ‘Warrior’ theme of the 2008/2009 season, with each ski paying homage to a different historic warrior (Ghengis Khan or Joan of Arc). For the 2000-2010 season, the skis will represent the Five Senses: Sight, Sound, Touch, Taste and Feel. The theme: “Awaken Your Senses”.
The skis themselves are not just pieces of art, however. They are handmade in the Never Summer Snowboard Factory and come with a two-year warranty. The ski company possesses somewhat of a cult following as well, with fans from Alaska to Maine, and from Switzerland to New Zealand.
Icelantic’s unveiling of its product line up will begin on September 15th. This date marks when the skis will be shipped to its North American retail locations and is also when the brand new website will be launched (www.icelanticboards.com). For Icelantic Skis, the company is more than just a ski manufacturer; it not only creates awe-inspiring skis, offers a place for local artists to display their works, but also is a youthful company that values top-quality products, artwork and its local community.
Icelantic Skis has been featured in Westword Newspaper, Freeskier Magazine, The Mountain Gazette, Ski magazine, Skiing Magazine, Backcountry Magazine, Powder Magazine, and voted to KMGH’s A-list art gallery.
Sam Warren, 303.670.6804 x705
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