Miles Thompson

by Glenn Sakamoto · 4 comments

Miles Thomp­son is a tal­ented Cal­i­for­nia surfer/artist whose paint­ings are a mix­ture of pop cul­ture, island tiki, and sur­re­al­ism. His work is like an end­less stream of con­scious­ness that flows from his mind to his brush. We spoke with Miles to find out what makes him tick.

What was life like grow­ing up?
In ’71, I was born on a Navy base in Pen­sacola, Florida. Four months later, we moved to El Toro at the end of Laguna Canyon Road. I spent time at the beaches in San Clemente, Dana Point, and Laguna.

Huge lines of beef­cake belly rash that lasted all sum­mer from my first gen­er­a­tion Morey Boo­gie at T Street and skim­ming at Strands morn­ing, noon and twi­light. I was a lucky, bespec­ta­cled and blis­tered kid for my first 14 summers.

I liked sponges so much I bused to Salt Creek daily in 8th grade to get tubes on my used Mach 7 and loved the graf­fiti under the bridge there—marveling at aerosol painted waves before the Ritz was even an idea: Anar­chy! Locals Only! No Fat Chicks! Kooks Go Home! I spent a year and half in Aus­tralia and spent months on the Gold Coast, along the reef in between 8th and 9th grade. Syd­ney was amaz­ing. Later, I grad­u­ated high school in Encini­tas while liv­ing in funky Leu­ca­dia, surf­ing Bea­cons daily.

Who did you look up to and admire when you were a young man?
I looked up to the Bionic Man more than any­one for long time. I stuck tight with my boo­gie board­ing, BMX big brother, gath­er­ing the vocab nec­es­sary to trash talk him. I learned to refine my draft­ing skills by watch­ing the pen­cil of my step­fa­ther, who was, and is, an archi­tect. Around the time of high school, I really admired my dad’s wild nature. He took me out on Hobies, Sabots, week­end Catalina jumps galore and jaunt or two on an 8m Cup Run­ner or two.

When did you get your first surf­board?
My first board was a 5’10” chan­nel bot­tom dou­ble fly swal­low tail thruster that I got about a month after I started surf­ing. That was a Tube­line and I loved it like chips. I was 14.

What was the feel­ing you had when you first stood on a surf­board?
A drifty, falling down­stream weight­less­ness was my first real sen­sa­tion as I sur­veyed the water below my feet mov­ing all around over orange sandy eddies. I had dropped into plenty of waves, but this was a whole new per­spec­tive on wavecraft—laughingly sim­i­lar to an elevator’s cord being cut.

Where did you inter­est in art come from?
I just liked the way cer­tain things looked that had a sense of per­son­al­ity, style and indi­vid­ual qual­ity. I always loved good news­pa­per comics with sys­tem­atic black spot­ting, whether or not they were inked with a brush or a pen. When a pen or brush touches paper, it can carry a lot of impact. Rick Grif­fin, printed in stacks of Surfer mags in every garage of my neigh­bor­hood grow­ing up, was God. He can’t be topped … ever. (Sorry Robert.) For car­toon­ing, there was only Mad, ZAP, Play­boy and EC … the best.

What is your process when cre­at­ing your art?
My stuff is now more about the research than it is about the craft and tech­nique. The approach does vary depend­ing on what I want out of the process, and it is always sub­ject to change. Cur­rently, I’m fin­ish­ing a por­trait of Dora this week that I started months ago.

With gouache paint­ing, I try to honor the thumb­nail sketch, but it often evolves as I sit with it and some­times an idea becomes dis­pro­por­tion­ately ambi­tious. I love what I do, so I do it as best I can.

Of all the places you have trav­eled to, what place in par­tic­u­lar stands out? And why?
My bright­est oceanic moment lies in a sin­gle night between the Pacific islands of Hawaii and the real west, about half way out, on a dead calm sea, fer­tile with phos­pho­res­cent micro­jel­lies spread­ing giant gen­tly slow rolling pointed V’s off the bow wake below the pul­pit on a mir­ror that seemed to end at about 50 feet off. I was calmly, cos­mi­cally and stone cold soberly buf­feted by the cot­ton candy of the milky way from hori­zon to hori­zon. Green/white water­bound lights, accom­pa­nied by cor­po­rate satel­lites over­head and per­fect water all around, fused into what seemed was an island. It was peace.

Who or what inspires you?
My 7 year old daugh­ter. Those that are self-possessed, with­out being self-righteous about facts, who elect to man­i­fest their own hon­or­able ver­sion of their history—history inspires! Venus, a girl­friend, music, art, food, sex, tiny nerds with big ideas, cam­eras and writing.

What is the great­est thing you have learned in your life?
That you go now. Patience. And that famil­iar­ity breeds contempt.

What are you most proud of?
My daugh­ter. I’m con­stantly ask­ing the uni­verse, “She’s really mine?”

Who are some of the peo­ple you feel are shap­ing the path for surf­ing today?
Nobody is. The waves are shap­ing the future path of waverid­ing, not surfers or shapers. Nobody is lead­ing surf­ing any­where it hasn’t been already. The ancient surfers went straight so that they could share waves as communion.

What is cur­rently your favorite board? Your favorite surf spot?
By far my favorite board is a 6’6″ Klaus Jones stringer­less “Arc board,” inspired by Este­ban Bojorquez’s surf­boards like all of Klaus’ hulls. Klaus made this board for him­self. Now, it’s mine. I also love my 9′ CC Slider when it’s flat or lulled out—such a fun one

Rin­con is my favorite spot because of the com­mu­nity; it’s less of a has­sle than surf­ing L.A. County.

What’s your favorite meal?
Ahi Tuna Pon­char­train at The Palace Grill in Santa Bar­bara. I just had some seri­ous pump­kin, red pep­per and cashew action—that’s pretty good. Sweet pota­toes and thyme, gin­ger, breads, nuts, beans, salad and cheese. I still eat ani­mals, but am doing it less and less in an effort to curb car­bon impact.

What are you cur­rently lis­ten­ing to on your iPod?
I’ve bought and sold music since junior high. I like her­itage jazz a lot. I like every­thing but punk from Orange County in the ‘70s. I’m not imper­vi­ous to the whimsy of a Moog, a Ther­min or the human voice.

What are you most grate­ful for?
My ex-wife—her life after a year of can­cer treat­ment, her love as a friend. We were 13 years together, so she’s fam­ily and I just love that she’s alive. I’m immune to all shit thanks to entirely to this one natural miracle.

What’s next for Miles Thomp­son?
Pro­mot­ing Ocean aware­ness and Global Fish­ery Management.

In July, I’m tak­ing on a one man show in Leu­ca­dia with an old friend. Plan­ning an art board or two—maybe do some lim­ited edi­tion fins— with por­traits of surf his­tory, such as the Duke, Da Cat, Da Bull, Gree­nough, Lid­dle, etc.

I’m curat­ing a Tiki Ti 50th Anniver­sary event in 2011 and pub­lish­ing a vol­ume of that show as well as pro­duc­ing my own inau­gural ceramic set with Munk­tiki for that event.

I really want to con­tinue my series of Cal­i­for­nia por­traits, and am plan­ning a show a year and a half out with Jim McMil­lan on another por­trait show.

All images cour­tesy Miles Thomp­son. All rights reserved.

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{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }

jimmie hines June 9, 2010 at 10:12 am

Wow! His art is insanely good, great interview

Reply

Gavin June 11, 2010 at 6:18 am

Great article and love your work, keep on keeping on!
(I’d love some fins too if you do them)
G

Reply

Mick June 14, 2010 at 10:40 pm

Great interview. I’ve long followed Miles’ site and his work. Thanks for chasing him down. His great oceanic moment proves you don’t have to be surfing to be surfing.

Reply

Jonathan July 10, 2010 at 5:19 pm

I Love his artwork!! I hope one day he opens up his Rudderman Blog. At the moment it’s set for invited readers only. He always had an eclectic collection of great photos, music and artwork. Reading it was a joy!

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