Author: Stephanie Janssen

FENTON BAILEY

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

When people hear the term “nude,” are they misled into assuming that the naked body must only be focused on in a sexual manner? Have nudes become a taboo subject?

Fenton has been photographing nudes for several years now, during which time he has used many different techniques and developed his style. He has gained a passion for capturing the female body and I, too, have now found love and interest for the genre.

Fenton’s earlier photographs portrayed the body in a more sculpture-like way, where tone played a crucial part. However, to capture nudes that are emotionally provocative and personal can be much trickier.

 

 

There are certain striking features that make these photographs captivating. The style feels soft and natural, making the image truthful. They have unusual and interesting visual characteristics and a strong nostalgic feel. They are not overly seductive or glamorous but create an enchanting intimacy.

Fenton is an artist who works to capture the female body in an empowering, mysterious and wistful way. He always captures a special and intimate moment.

Some of Fenton’s work has been refused by magazines simply because they were uncomfortable with the fact that a man was taking a photo of a woman in the nude and their readers could be averse to the concept. Is this view unjust? I feel it would be a great pity if society today could not come to terms with the fact that there is nothing shaming, unsophisticated or rude about the female body being captured. The representation can be displayed in inspiring, sensual and romantic ways, and I really hope this genre of photography is not to be overlooked.

 

 

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SASCHA NISHIKAWA-BAILEY

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Who am I 

I’m not here to bore you with my life story so I shall make it short and sweet. At 16 I began representing my first artist. I still work with him today; his name is Ollie Sylvester. After that, at about 18, I had the good fortune to run into the owner of a central London gallery. Soon after this I curated my first show, titled Human Relations. The theme was erotic and candid photography and featured work by my brother Fenton along with another artist I work with called Mairi-Luise Tabbakh.

In the last year I have launched an artist management agency called Quite Useless. The name is a misnomer. I work with two amazing individuals, Jack Daniels and Ronald Briceno, as well as one of my main sources of inspiration, my wife Mimi. The works that follow will be on display in London at the Benbai by Gamma expo at the OXO Tower, Bargehouse, September 2017.

Art as life 

True art is driven by intention, honesty and time. What I mean by this is that in order to be a true artist and not just a purveyor of posters, one must be totally honest. Not just with yourself but with those who surround you, and eventually with the whole world. It’s not possible to call yourself an artist without in some form exposing yourself—the things that make you you. Those elements of the universe that you chose to pick out and re-create through your own perception of reality, in order to explain in some small way the complete chaos of our existence in your own words.

The artist’s path is not an easy one, which makes me wonder why so many people are flocking to it. It was once said of being a writer that if you can do anything else, anything at all, you should. I think the same can be said of being an artist. The new flood of fresh talent is highly exciting; it will be interesting to see how the industry will adapt to a large influx of talent. The way it is now the doors are pretty hard to get open. But interest in art is high with the coming generation, and I believe the future outlook to be extremely positive.

What is there to it 

 “I don’t understand art” is something I hear from a lot of people, including myself until I was about 16. The thing is there is really nothing to get. If you like it, then it’s art to you. It doesn’t really matter what the establishment thinks; it’s down to the buyer. This continues the theme of the personal aspect of art. It is just as personal to the buyer as it is to the artist who created it. A vast amount can be said of someone from looking at their art collection and the importance that they place on it. It’s a sign of consciousness, both the creation and the enjoyment of art. It creates a higher purpose and it demonstrates the need to leave a mark. It’s a reflection of our awareness—that life is greater and longer than our own personal existence.

 

 

 

 

 

www.quiteuseless.uk

@quiteuselessart

These works will be on display at The Benbai Expo in September SE1 9PH presented by Gamma.

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Posted in Art

DAMIEN HIRST

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable

There is something mysterious about the sea. People don’t know what’s in there, and most don’t care to know. For some, however, the exploration is paramount to their existence—the adventurer who dares to take on the most unlivable environment on earth. Well, at least for us land dwellers.

To explore is to satisfy one’s curiosity. Some are far more intrepid than others, needing not only to find, but also recover, those curiosities that they find, in order to go some way toward explaining their own desire for discovery to the world.

Perhaps this is the secret to the beauty and wonder of Damien Hirst’s Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable. One needs to do nothing more than invoke a sense of true wonder to create the most incredible immersive experience. For those visiting for their first time (or those less observant among us), the story is of these colossal sculptural creations being pulled from the ocean, the discovery of a huge collection of lost artworks.

The concept is simple yet strong, presented in such a way that anyone can understand it and appreciate it. But unlike so much modern art, the works that accompany the concept are even stronger.

 

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SASCHA BAILEY: So, in the show Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable, what is the basic concept and what do you want people to leave feeling?

DAMIEN HIRST:  Confused.  A lot of people think that, as an artist, you have to tell people what to think, but I don’t agree with that. You just set up triggers that make them think, and then you want them to make their own minds up. I want them to think about the present, but by thinking about the past.

SB:  Where did you get the idea to make it look like you’d recovered it from the ocean? Where did that come from?

DH: I did the diamond skull and I was quite shocked that I had managed to make that, and I just sat looking at it thinking, “How the fuck have I got myself into this position?” I was just doing shit paintings in Leeds not long ago, thinking, “I’ll never be anyone, I’ll never be any good.” And then suddenly I’ve got this skull made out of diamonds that costs millions and millions of pounds, and I remember thinking about the idea of treasure because of that. Suddenly, I’ve made an object that could have been made by emperors and kings of the past, and I was just wondering how the fuck an artist had got himself into this position.

I did the Beautiful Inside My Head Forever auction at Sotheby’s in 2008, which was a lot to do with facts and science and logic, which I really believed in, and I wanted art that reflected that. And then overnight I turned to fiction—I don’t know why, I just switched, and I suddenly realized that the only thing you can believe in is the gaps between things. If we’re given a fragment it’s a lot easier to believe that it’s 2,000 years old than if you give someone something solid and whole. So I realized that you can inhabit fragments, and you can inhabit the gaps. Belief is about what’s not there—you believe in what’s missing. Like the Venus de Milo with the arms missing; you can really easily imagine it, how it was, and you believe the complete image you have in your mind. You love it more somehow.

SB: When you think to before your art was as valuable as it is, do you think that it’s changed a lot since then? Have you adapted it?

DH: I think it changes all the time. All the artists I love, you can see what’s great about them in their very early works, sometimes even when they were kids.

You somehow have to remain true to yourself. That’s difficult when no one’s interested in your work. It’s also difficult when everyone is interested in your work. You’ve just got to keep an eye on who you are, and make sure that you’re not producing bollocks.

I suppose it’s a confidence thing. When you’re young you don’t really have a lot of confidence, but you have to be confident about who you are—that’s what makes you become an artist. I try and find parallels between what I was trying to do at the beginning and now, because maybe I wasn’t shit, maybe I just thought I was shit. But I think everyone can make great art. That’s the power of belief.

SB: What do you think is the next direction in art in general?

DH: I don’t know. I never know. I think it keeps changing. It’s a bit like when they asked John Lennon why he cut his hair in 1970, and he said, “Well what the fuck are you supposed to do after you’ve grown it!” There’s nothing you can do, you shave it! So it’s a bit like that; painting’s dead, painting’s back, painting’s dead, painting’s back. Art to me is always a reflection of the world we live in. As the world gets more complicated, the art gets more complicated. It’s like art’s trying to keep up with society.

There is always great new art. It’s like in music; a lot of my friends are musicians, and a lot of the older ones are always saying the new ones are crap. As an artist you’ve got to not do that. You’ve got to believe that the greatest art that mankind has ever made is around the next corner, rather than around the last corner.

SB: Is art the explanation or is explanation the art?

DH: I suppose it goes both ways. Conceptual art, to me, it’s always got to have feeling, it’s got to be emotional. I get bored of talking about art, really. I mean, if it looks good it is good. That’s the only rule. There are no other rules. If it looks or feels good, then it is good. You don’t need to know why it looks good. “Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s fucking amazing.” “Why?” “I don’t know.”

That’s the perfect reaction to art. I don’t think talking about it adds anything to it very much. I suppose with conceptual art, where the idea is in the mind of the viewer rather than in the object itself, talking about that becomes part of the art, but that’s a different thing.  But even with conceptual art, great conceptual art is something you should get immediately, like a great joke. You just go “Wow, I love that.” Like a Carl Andre—you kind of go “Fuck off!” straight away. It’s brilliant! But I don’t think you need anything in the middle, and that’s where the words occur.

I used to watch Top of the Pops and a song would come on and we’d go “Shit!” or “Beauty!” You weren’t allowed to say “Umm, OK.” You’d have to either say shit or brilliant, and I think that’s a really good way of looking at things.  You discard or you engage and you don’t have anything in between.

SB: Do you think there will ever be a return to formalism as the mainstream form of expression?

DH: Of course. It happens all the time. I mean, society used to radically change in different ways, but what happens today, which never used to, is that we savagely regurgitate and devour the past. We’re stealing from everywhere and everything, so we end up with a society that is totally multifaceted and then we have to make art that’s a reflection of that, of a multifaceted society. You’re probably getting aspects of formalism occurring every 25 minutes in some artist’s work somewhere. The thing that is increasingly common is how distracted and diverse everybody is, so you get a figurative painter hanging out with someone who paints monochromes and a conceptual artist, and you all do a show together. They’re all getting on in the same way because they’re all finding aspects of their work in society.  Whereas it used to be much more in chronological movements.  I don’t think that happens anymore…

You can get an abstract painter who paints portraits, does word paintings and decides he’s doing neons every now and again, and that never used to happen either, but I think it’s great that we live in that world. If you’re not doing that, you’re not able to make art that’s a reflection of the world we live in.

SB: What was your eureka moment when you were a struggling artist? Was it to do with the creation of The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living or something else?

DH: I think it was the spot paintings really for me, because I was a messy painter before then. I loved ’50s abstraction.  I love Pollock and Rothko and de Kooning and those sorts of artists, and so I wanted to paint like a gestural painter, but then I was also into minimalism.  I wasn’t when I first moved to London. I thought it was all bollocks. I just thought, “It’s not art.” And I thought I was going to change the world and bring it back to 1950s painting or something. I thought that art had lost its way then and I was going to come and save it.

But then I was looking at minimalism and thinking, “Fucking hell, this is really good.” It’s emotional! I remember looking at a Carl Andre piece in Anthony d’Offay Gallery where I worked, these big blocks of wood, and he’d lined them all up and I really loved it. I just got into it and thought, “Fucking hell, it’s actually not nothing, it’s something!” I remember looking at a Donald Judd and seeing the screws lined up, and the colors were pretty good, and I thought it was amazing. I remember thinking, “This is a comment on the world we live in.”

Engineering is everywhere you go. You see all these objects that have a function, and this is one to consider that doesn’t have a function. The spot paintings somehow bridged the gap for me. I still made those color decisions but in a minimal format, and then the end result was so stupidly childish and nursery school—Smarties and sweets and everything—that I just thought it was brilliant. So that was it—the really big thing for me was the first thing I made that I thought was “now”, because before that, everything was nostalgic.

 

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Posted in Art

Sally Wood by Ronnie Wood

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Ronnie Wood of The Rolling Stones paints his wife, Sally, in a series of looks styled by Charlotte Stockdale and Katie Lyall for the 11th issue of Humanity.

  • Shirt by SIMONE ROCHA | Shoes by MANOLO BLAHNIK

 

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PALOMA BAILEY

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Paloma grew up in South West England, in a small town called Tavistock. Her name is derived from the Latin word “palumbus,” which means dove or Holy Spirit, and Paloma Lola Bailey has truly assimilated these into her life.

Paloma’s paintings show us the difficulty of remaining uncorrupted in this world. The works featured center upon aspects of deep personal angst. All artists draw from experience, but with Paloma we find these accentuated.

Struggling with a confined education system, Paloma would leave school soon after A-Levels in order to forge her own path in the world.

With clear influences from Francis Bacon and Picasso, she finds comfort in the desperation of the human condition. She would tell you that these paintings are a representation of what she saw in the people closest to her. Painted in oils, scored with emotion.

Paloma has recently had three children—Samir, Sofia and Isabella—whom her latest work is inspired by. The pieces depict her children while still in the womb, bringing beautiful vibrancy to their most vulnerable state.

 

 

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Posted in Art

SADIQ KHAN

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

The reason that London is the greatest, most creative city in the world can be summed up in one word—Londoners.

Here in London, we don’t just tolerate our diversity; we celebrate and embrace it. Author Zadie Smith says that London is a “state of mind,” and I think she’s right. Being a Londoner isn’t about where you’re born or where you grew up—it’s about who you are and what you stand for. We are a city made up of people from all backgrounds—outward-looking and forward-thinking.

Here, you’re free to dress however you wish, love whoever you want to love and be whoever you want to be. That is a big reason why I feel our capital attracts so many young, talented people and has such a vibrant, thriving creative scene—one that is bursting with color, buzzing with ideas and overflowing with imagination.

Our creative credentials speak for themselves: We’re one of the big four fashion capitals of the world, alongside Paris, Milan and New York. We are the third-largest city for filmmaking in the world, with 40 crews filming out on London’s streets every single day. We are a global center for design and innovation—hosting the world’s biggest design festival. And from David Bowie to the Rolling Stones, Adele to Stormzy, London has always been and will always be a global powerhouse for music. Every night of the week, the West End is alive with the best theater, dance and opera on the planet. Then there are our countless cultural gems, our world-class museums and galleries, our unparalleled history and heritage—the list goes on.

For many people, Soho is the epicenter of creative life in London—with theaters, nightlife and major cultural institutions around every corner. But take a closer look and you’ll see hubs of creativity all over the capital—from Barking to Brixton, Hackney to Croydon, artists are leading the way in shaping their communities. Soon, I’ll be launching the London Borough of Culture—to celebrate creative life in all of London’s 32 boroughs and showcase the great things going on outside of the West End. I’m also looking into setting up a Creative Land Trust, based on a similar model in San Francisco, to help artists and creatives buy their own workspace and put down roots in an area that they helped to make an attractive and vibrant place to live.

Another big part of London’s buzzing vibe is down to its thriving nighttime economy. Now that the Night Tube is up and running, I want to transform the capital into a truly 24-hour city. That’s why I appointed Amy Lamé as London’s first Night Czar last year. She’s working around the clock to champion the capital’s nightclubs, pubs, music venues and LGBT+ spaces as the city continues to grow and develop.

London’s creative appeal extends around the globe, with four out of five tourists citing London’s exceptional cultural offer as their number one reason for visiting. It’s also impossible to ignore the economic clout of our creative industries—contributing £42 billion a year and accounting for one in every six jobs in the capital.

So as you can see, culture and creativity is in London’s DNA. It’s the glue that binds us all together, and from the outest of my mayoralty, I pledged to make culture and the creative industries a key priority.

When the UK voted to leave the EU, I launched a campaign called #LondonIsOpen. I wanted to show the world that, despite Brexit, London would remain open to business, investment, trade and people—regardless of faith, ethnicity, nationality, background, gender, age or sexual orientation.

London’s artists and creatives were the first to respond to this campaign. Artists from Gillian Wearing to David Shirley, Jeremy Deller to Mark Titchner created amazing pieces that reflected London as a diverse, creative capital. I am so proud of the outpouring of support from the city’s creative community for #LondonIsOpen. We’ve had support from the worlds of theater, dance, music, food and literature as we continue to share London’s “state of mind” with the world.

The key to London’s creative energy is our openness to the world. Nowhere else comes close. When the whole world is on your doorstep, amazing things can happen, brilliant partnerships can form and great work is created. It’s these sparks of inspiration that light London’s creative fire—and it shows no sign of going out.

-Sadiq Khan, Mayor of London

 

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Don McCullin

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

How can one not like Don?

I search his eyes and wonder what is stored on his hard drive. A life spent seeing the injustices of humanity. I call it seeing, not just looking. The word for Don is feeling, which is the same as seeing for me.

Don is often called a war photographer—this is very misleading. “War Photographer” is a great word for journalists to grab a headline.

Don and I are about the same age. He grew up in working-class north London, Finsbury Park, and I in East Ham, through the Blitz. Don was evacuated but apart from that we must have had similar experiences both of us being dyslexic and all the problems that came with it, such as treating dyslexics like they were stupid. As my headmaster told my mother, “Somebody has got to dig the roads.”

We did National Service in the Air Force. Don was told he could not be a photographer and I was told the same, because it would have been impossible for either of us to take written tests.

We both encountered the street gangs, in my case “The Barking Boys.” Three of them beat me up for dancing with the wrong girl (Eileen Wortham), who Terence Stamp had eyes for also.

The Barking Boys left me unconscious in the doorway of a furniture store all night. I was woken up by a very thin tall man who I mistakenly thought was helping me. The next thing I knew he was trying to stick his tongue in my mouth. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. One good thing that came out of all this was I was now protected by the Barking Boys because I had not reported it to the police. No one would complain to the police. They were trusted less in the East End; everyone kept away from them. I’m sure Don had similar encounters. I guess both being put in the Air Force helped us get a new perspective on the way things worked.

 

 

This is a lead-up to the two most important photographs we made in the same year, 1959, on bomb sites, which I suppose was not so surprising, as bomb sites were our playgrounds. We did not know each other. We met a few years later with Terence Donovan, another with similar stories.

Unfortunately, I don’t see Don so much now, but six months ago I bumped into him in a John Lewis department store. He said in amazement, “What you doing here?!” I replied, in even more amazement, with the same question. I would not have been surprised to bump into him in Afghanistan or Sudan, but John Lewis?

I’m so happy to have spent the last 60 years doing what we both could not help doing, something we love. Keep it up, Don. See you in 10 years, maybe in that famous department store.

Love you, Bailey

 

 

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Kate Moss by Ronnie Wood

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

The duality of life is a constant reminder of the lack of control we have over the universal patterns of nature.

Two subjects:  One picked for culture, the other for love, both for beauty. Ronnie Wood talks calmly with Bailey all the while capturing with ease the essence of someone who we all know— an icon, a name, a face and an archetype of beauty for the modern age. Kate Moss, the name rings with familiarity. It echos over that part of our prefrontal cortex which lights up when a familiar name is mentioned.

David Bailey stands and captures both Ronnie Wood and Kate Moss while Ronnie paints Kate and they chat about the past.  

Later in the day Ronnie and Bailey would capture in two mediums Ronnie’s wife, Sally: One for fashion, two for love. 

The paintings themselves are simplistic, raw and focused more upon the aspect of the subject’s personality rather than that of pure realism.

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DANNY FULLER

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“Professional surfer artist” is how Danny Fuller best describes his hybrid role as both a big-wave surfer and lensman on the hunt for the world’s most awe-inspiring swells. It’s a journey the Hawaiian native has been cultivating since early childhood, setting foot on his first surfboard at age 5. “All my best friends were professional surfers, and we grew up underneath very talented surfers. We were pretty set on where we wanted to be, and we fed off each other and pushed each other,” says Danny, who was sponsored and competing on a national level at age 10. “By the time I was in high school, I was pretty set on where I wanted to be.”

With his mother’s blessing, a 15-year old Danny moved from his native Kauai to the North Shore of Oahu— “the summit of the proving ground”—to make his mark on the massive barrels of the world-renowned Banzai Pipeline. “I fell in love with the place and wanted to become one of the standouts there,” he says.

By 16 he did just that (“I started getting ahold of some waves that were separating me from some of my peers,” he says), going on to become one of the faces to watch on the big-wave competition circuit, while simultaneously catching the eye of fashion photography heavyweights such as Mario Testino.

“I had the opportunity. I just never really enjoyed doing fashion,” admits Danny, who used his modeling experience fronting campaigns for the likes of Chanel to fuel his own budding photography aspirations. “The entire time that I was standing in front of the camera I was asking the photographers every possible question that I could that would come to mind. …That’s what kept me interested,” he says. Photography had always been a means of documenting his world travels as a surfer; now, he saw it as a form of art— “like painting with light,” he says.

After a move to New York, Danny eventually saw his career in photography come into focus, with his inaugural exhibit at a Chelsea gallery. “Intentionally as a surfer, I kept things separate, like ‘Danny Fuller, the surfer’ and ‘Daniel Fuller, the artist.’ I wanted to be more recognized in the art world and my work to be taken seriously as an artist and to not be kind of known as a surfer that does art, or surf art.”

Today the two passions go hand in hand, with Danny traveling the world in hopes of documenting “the biggest and best waves on the planet.” His ongoing fascination with capturing lunar cycles on camera has also given rise to a number of gallery shows and a book that’s currently in the works. “It’s actually taken me a few years to get to the point of where my work’s at and to be truly content of where it’s at and be really vulnerable as an artist,” says Danny, who now spends his time between Hawaii and California. “You’re putting something out there and you better fucking believe in it, because there are critics out there. As long as you really believe in what you’re doing, you’ll have the strength to continue to do it.”

 

 

HUMANITY: How does surfing influence photography?

DANNY FULLER: I’m a product of my environment, and the ocean has been such a key element in my life. I feel like it’s this vast life force that is a part of who I am, and I am continuously drawn back to it. It’s taken a few years for me to actually understand how my existence as a surfer and an artist kind of go hand in hand, because I’m continuously drawn back to the ocean, which is a very special place for me. I have a very intimate relationship with the ocean.

 

HUMANITY: What compels you to surf?

DF:

It’s part of who I am. People ask me how I surf big waves for a living. I love getting out of my comfort zone and getting into that place of fear, and pushing beyond that. People ask, now that you have kids are you going to continue to do what you do? I don’t know. Any normal human looks at what I do and thinks I’m insane, but it’s part of who I am, and without that I wouldn’t really be myself. Now I physically and mentally prepare myself more for those situations as opposed to just being carefree.

 

HUMANITY: How do you push past that point of fear in the water?

DF:

Psychologically, there are people who can be faced with a life-threatening situation and the only way to survive is to stay calm. Everything inside is telling you to run but you manage to hold the line and actually put yourself in a position and take that wave. It’s a moment of a split-second decision that I cannot really explain. It’s like a huge adrenaline hit. There are times when you run, but then there are times when you mentally prepare and visualize those situations from in that moment, because that’s what shows that you’re actually in the right headspace to seek the moment.

HUMANITY: Is that something you’re born with?

DF: I believe so. I realized at a pretty young age that I was kind of a little different than most of my peers. Yeah, there are many other surfers that are absolutely crazy and do much bigger and gnarlier things than me, but it’s something that’s a part of me. I love it.

HUMANITY: What’s the most life-defining challenge you’ve faced?

DF: My mother fighting cancer. Many of my friends experienced similar cases and were able to kind of shed some light on what I was going through. With something like that you’re just really along for the ride, and you just have to do whatever you possibly can to stay strong and positive and try to get through it. It’s definitely the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through in my life.

HUMANITY: Most important lesson you’ve learned from the ocean?

DF: In surfing you’re not dealing with something that’s fixed, you’re dealing with Mother Nature and continuously moving elements. So it’s probably one of the only things where I can tell you I am truly present in the moment.

HUMANITY: What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received, and who gave it to you?

DF: Nobody is going to give you anything and you need to go out there and get it for yourself. My dear friend Strider Wasilewski gave it to me. When I was a teenager he was a professional surfer. I’ve used that as an everyday motto in life, because, as a surfer, nobody makes me go out and surf, and I am very fortunate that I do it for a living. No one’s going to go out there and create for me or no one’s going to go to my studio. I need to actually go out there and do the work and apply myself.

HUMANITY: Beyond surfing, why is it important to you to raise your family between Los Angeles and Hawaii?

DF: Even though I’ve lived in California for so long, Hawaii is ultimately part of who I am, and it’s always nice to be there with my family because I feel like there’s something very special about being brought up in Hawaii. I think you become very grounded and bury yourself in integrity and respect. I like to have that balance, and for my kids to have that exposure of where I’m from, and to develop friendships with people there. It’s a very beautiful quality of life.

HUMANITY: What’s your life motto?

DF: Take every day one day at a time and try to just succeed to the full potential of every day. Live your life with honesty and integrity and nothing but love for everyone around you. Try your best to be the best you can be in whatever shape or form that is.

 

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LUKE STEDMAN

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

“I was bred into the surfing culture,” says former pro surfer Luke Stedman. “It was in my blood, in my DNA.” The son of revered board maker (and Ugg boots inventor) Shane Stedman of Shane Surfboards, Luke was raised in the water. “I knew more about surfing when I was five years old than I did about anything else,” says the Australian native, who vividly recalls the first time his dad pushed him into the waves (“I was on a little white raw foamie and I remember just getting the most incredible rash on my stomach”). But it wasn’t until his teenage years when the younger Stedman began to view surfing as a career path, and a way to travel the world. “I was okay, but a lot of my peers were better than me,” he confesses. “Going out and getting a job wasn’t really sort of my idea of fun, and surfing professionally was a lot more appealing. So, I took that avenue.”

Looking to gain a competitive edge, Luke not only enlisted the help of technical trainers, but also turned to spiritual and mental guides, too. “It wasn’t very common for the guys to have those sort of coaches,” says Luke. “I was never really expecting to do that well, and with all the wonderful people that were surrounding me and I was working with, I managed to get really good results.” In 2008 at age 32, he placed eleventh in the world.

Retiring from the surf circuit at age 35 (“I’d been doing it for such a long time, and I still loved competing, but I wanted to do something else”), Luke turned his attention to more creative endeavors, splitting his time between Los Angeles and his hometown of Sydney.

But he didn’t hang up his wetsuit forever; today, the father of one regularly hits the waves as a surf instructor for the Muse school in Malibu, teaching budding young surfers how to strategize and overcome mental hurdles in the water. “Surfing is such a personal sort of sport, and at times, when you’re having a rough day, there’s nothing will make you feel better than just going for a surf, getting in the ocean and just getting some salt between your ears,” says Luke. “You could have the worst surf in the world, and come in, and still feel better than you did when you, before you went out. That’s what surfing does for me.

 

 

Why was it important for you to work with both mental and spiritual coaches as a professional surfer?
When I was competing, it wasn’t very common for the guys to have those sort of coaches. But I just knew I needed an edge, just because there were so many guys who were naturally more talented than I was. I felt if I worked with those people, that would give me the edge, I’d be able to use those angles to my advantage. And it really worked, because it wasn’t till later on, I realized that competing was 70, 80 percent mental. It’s such a large portion of why you compete well. So, it sort of changed my mindset a lot. Then I started focusing really, really intensely on a lot of mental of strategies. That’s essentially what gave me the edge, and what allowed me to compete at a high level.

Is that a philosophy you’ve brought into other parts of your life as well?
Absolutely. Having a strategic game plan, and knowing how to use particular tools and particular situations, and strategize—I just don’t feel people do that very often. It was great to have that learning curve of doing something, and I’ve been able to take those skills away with me and use them in my day-to-day life

Best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
I’ve heard some wonderful bits of advice, like coming to each moment and each encounter expecting magic, or going in with just an open mind, and thinking the infinite possibility of what may be. I feel like that’s a really wonderful way to sort of lean into everyday work. If you can go in with that mindset, then I feel that really changes things, and that’s been working for me lately. My dad is consistently giving me advice, and it’s all been really good. Half the time, I would often think that, I’d be like, “Oh, it’s just Dad, that’s silly advice,” but then as the years go down the track, he’s actually right, which is frustrating. He would often tell me things along the line of “Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.”

 

 

In what other ways has your father inspired you?
My dad has a really special energy. He deals so well with so many people, and he’s always smiling. He has a great way of dealing with all sorts of life challenges, and he’s very resourceful. He’s a grateful person, and someone who is always there for you and very supportive. He’s a gentleman. I couldn’t say a bad word about my father. He’s been a huge part of my upbringing, and I value everything that he’s done. I respect him, and I love him dearly.

How has he shaped your own take on fatherhood?
He’s continually there for me for support now, like when I have questions about my son he can relate to me, because he went through the same thing [as a father]. I can ask him questions, and things to be ready for, and how to deal with them potentially when they arrive. Having a kid, you never know what’s going to happen. I feel like he did a great job with me and my family, so I’m happy to ask him and my mother [for advice]. She’s a very special person as well. She has a fabulous take on life, and she’s very caring and loving. I just feel super-blessed with my family. I’m a lucky, lucky man.

What do you consider your greatest personal achievement?
Definitely being a father. My kid is a reminder every day of how special life is. I guess dads say that. It’s a cliché, but it’s true.

 

 

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve ever faced?
Stopping surfing competitively, and then diversifying onto the next life challenge and going into the workplace. You’re doing what you love, you’re getting paid really well to ride waves for a living, and then having to learn how to read spreadsheets, and work incredibly long hours—and being a complete virgin on most of those things. I loved what I did, and that’s why I became reasonably good at it. So, I had to find something that I loved, and that was a challenge. And now, I found that. It took a bit of time, but it’s well worth it. I’m very grateful for what I do now.

When I started coming off the tour, that’s when I actually studied and got into meditation, and I was reading all these books on philosophy. Every person, whether it was, Deepak Chopra or Eckhart Tolle, they all say meditation was the most powerful thing they did. So, I jumped into meditating, and I’ve been doing that for seven years. That’s a really big part of my life now.

What’s the most important lesson you learned in the water?
Definitely not to take an ocean for granted. That’s probably the number one. You just never turn your back on the ocean. It’s such a powerful place, and it’s beautiful, but it can also turn on you so quickly. It’s one of those places where you never know what can happen out there. 

Now that you’re no longer competing, do you get a different sense of enjoyment from surfing?
Yeah, it’s a different sort of love. There are a lot of times when you’re training and sometimes you don’t want to be in the water, and it’s cold and it’s windy. You’ve already surfed twice that day and you don’t want to hop on a plane the next day and go to a place that has really small waves. It can be really trying. You just miss home and you miss family, and it’s exhausting, but it’s still part of a job, and you’ve got to change your mindset and love what you do, and get focused, because otherwise you don’t compete well. And I found with me, if I wasn’t happy when I was surfing, then I wasn’t surfing as well as I could. So, that was a challenge. But now when I surf, I get excited just going out and surfing with Spike, my boy, and pushing him into the waves and seeing how excited he gets. That is probably the finest moment that I get now out of surfing, just watching him surf.

 

 

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