program - SVIZ

Derek Hynd about Musica Surfica
Surfers tend to push limits. They feel they are cocooned within the ocean
against its formidable power.
No matter the size of wave, strength of wind or time of day, the surfer seems to
welcome the lull before peril. A form of madness takes precedence over logic.
One Sunday afternoon on the island of Tasmania, at the edge of the far
reaches of the southern world, “am Ende der Welt”, (which was from the
1830’s the principal penal colony in Australia), the artist Jon Frank, whose
cinematographic work is featured here in Maribor put out from safe harbour
in a tiny little runabout boat.
The sky was a steely grey and the wind calm (the lull before the peril) as he set
out on a spur of the moment unaccompanied passage. One hour later he had
arrived at the infamous Shipstern Bluff to the north east of Hobart’s Storm Bay.
His mission was to view the massively open ‘tubing’ waves. From 50 metres
away the vision was awe-inspiring. But soon after arriving the wind began
to howl and the colossal waves turned to heaving chaos. The way back was
a different matter. As he set his boat around for the return journey, elation
turned to gallow’s humor as he faced distorted 20 foot seas with a feeble 12
horse power motor attached to a coffin sized open boat, close to darkness
and facing a good hour or more of potential capsize or stall before trying
to navigate one of the most treacherous bluffs on Earth. Cresting another
vertical wall of water, the intrepid Frank pondered the inevitable question:
What possessed him to take a look at one of the heaviest waves in the world
from close quarters, in a veritable bottle cap, without telling a soul?
Events such as the late afternoon suicidal surf check are normal for the artist
in Frank. Invoking dark wonders of the surfing experience, he lives for
proximity to the angry sea.
He didn’t film this particular event. To hold a camera and live would have
been impossible. To be a voyeur to his own undoing, knowing the ocean
would have swallowed the evidence would have been the poet’s ultimate
ascetic statement.
Jack McCoy is more measured, though just as driven. Another collaborator of
Tognetti’s, the 60 year old continues to define the art of underwater cinematography
in a manner few peers would attempt. Having filmed the greatest
ride of all time at the deadly Tahitian location ‘End of The Road’ from the
safety of a boat, he now trolls beneath the wave on the reef floor, running
next to the ‘tube’ holding on to a submersible James Bond like machine
travelling at 12 knots per hour.
Why? Despite the risk of being sucked through the vortex to a rather certain
demise, the vision is like nothing ever seen before in any artistic form.
Tognetti obviously finds release in the ocean, albeit in less challenging manner.
Simply, he must surf. A considerable schedule is rendered relatively easy
by seeking out and riding waves. Whilst perhaps fortunate not to be in the
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