The black-out of coverage is refreshing. Results
drip-fed through written updates. Secondhand reports of the
conditions and the vibe on the sand. Pirate streams giving us shaky
footage.
An old booze buddy of mine used to talk about a
documentary he wanted to film. Sort of an artistic
project, I guess. One of many such ideas that would come up during
a session of solid day drinking, the type that only the young and
unencumbered can regularly enjoy.
Shit talking and banter flying about like a drunken firefight.
Some ideas would hit, but most would miss.
The basic premise of his doco idea was about him pushing a piano
off a cliff. The documentary would follow him as he prepared for
the task. Selecting the piano. Transporting it to the cliff top.
Long, deep, philosophical interviews about the ontological meaning
of the entire event.
Probably shot in black and white. Maybe a bit of Super-8 spliced
in.
But the rub was that he wouldn’t actually film the act of the
piano being toppled itself. When it came to the moment the entire
project had been building towards, the coup de grace, the camera
would turn away and film the static horizon instead. Or maybe just
cut to a black void, Sopranos-style.
It would be an artistic statement. What the statement was, I’m
not sure. I was pretty canned at the time.
But I can’t help thinking of it in
relation to the 2024 Vans Pipe Masters.
Say what you will. Despite recent downgrades, the comp is still
one of the most prestigious – and viewer attracting – events in our
sphere. High-profile surfers from around the globe have been flown
in to tackle the jewel in surfing’s crown. Various advertising and
sponsorship partners brought on board to plug and promote.
Surely tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars sunk into
the whole venture by the flailing shoe company. The Pipe Masters is
still a big deal.
Yet the Vans Pipe Masters is not
being live-streamed.
In the digital age it’s one of the most basic and expected
deliverings for any high profile competition. Fuck, it’s the entire
reason you’d do it. YouTube advertising. Eyeballs = revenue
On face value the decision is inexplicable. I don’t think it’s
an artistic statement, like my mate and his piano had intended.
Likely it’s more to do with simply running out of the money to do
it.
But there is something vaguely refreshing about the semi
black-out in Vans Pipe Masters coverage. Results being drip fed
through written updates. Secondhand reports of the conditions and
the vibe on the sand. Various pirate streams giving us some grainy,
shaky footage.
Remember the days of getting comp news three months later in
your print publication of choice? Or waiting another six months to
watch only the curated highlights in VHS form?
Things have changed. We come to expect everything
instantaneously – and for free. Anything less is an abject slap in
the face to us. The audience. Have we become too demanding?
Not to excuse Vans for the obvious own goal.
How easy is it to set up a camera and a mic? Da Hui been doing
it on the cheap for 20 years. Blak Bear Social Club and Nate
Florence are filling the void for us just now, at what you would
think would be either zero or at most minimal cost.
But it is a conversation, starter, to say the least. A guerilla
marketing tactic
And here I sit, in the small window of time I have before the
rest of my house awakes, ruminating on the meaning of it all and
typing up this bullshit instead of being planted on the lounge,
coffee in one hand and live chat phone in the other, my eyes glued
to multiple screens like the hopeless social media junkie I am.
They’re giving our time back to us. There is that.
Still, it would be sick to be watching it, but.
C’mon Vans, ya hopeless
cunts.
