Shaping hero – Thomas Meyerhoffer – part 05 (of 5)
Shaping hero – Thomas Meyerhoffer – part 05
by Sam Bleakley
I returned to Barbados especially to
meet Thomas Meyerhoffer in person. He’d flown down from San Francisco and
greeted me at Zed Layson’s place at Surfer’s Point wearing a black peaked cap,
black t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He was the polar opposite in some ways to
my first shaping hero, the shuffling and easygoing Cornishman Chris ‘CJ’ Jones.
Meyerhoffer was electric. He had a wide vision. He embodied cool – designer,
artist.
Zed, Meyerhoffer and I ordered
barbequed seafood at a nearby outdoor fish fry called Oistins. It was flaming
hot, with the occasional lick of wind. Meyerhoffer was energetic, busy, a
creative genius and gentle giant in the design world. He told me about his
small design studio with “big ambitions, currently re-designing the classic Coca Cola glass on the basis that, with
a glass of coke you want a ‘quiet’ experience that suddenly comes alive with
the first sip as the bubbles explode.” I explained how I was interested in
experimenting with his boards.
“Fancy working together to design a
new longboard Sam?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve tested the boards Zed has.
What do you think?”
“I think the noserider will be great
with the square tail Thomas. I'm imaging the tail of the classic Donald
Takayama combined with the same hourglass design you have.”
We paddled out together at Freights
- a short ride away on the south coast. Freights is a mellow, turquoise
coloured, bathwater warm, left reefbreak, interconnecting three tantalizing
sections and famous for its spaced-out sea turtles who swim right up to you as
you sit on your board and seem to gaze, inviting a response. I was a little
shocked when Zed told me that the only time he had ever seen a shark in the
water in Barbados was here at Freights. Californian Malibu surfers Butch Linden
and Johnny Fain left boards in Barbados 1965, and amongst the first wave of
local surfers to use these boards was David ‘Freight’ Allen. Freights is a
favourite location for Bajan beach culture, attracting easygoing locals and
those curious loggerhead turtles who swim right up and ask you the time. After
one such encounter, waiting between waves outback, Zed laid down the shark
story about Freights:
“You rarely see sharks in Barbados.
But one really good day a big tiger shark passed right through the line-up. We
all freaked out. The crowd cleared in seconds. Everyone paddled in, watched
from the cliff, the shark cruised back out to sea, and we all soon went home.
No one wanted to paddle out again that day. Then this couple who’d been out
eating in Oistins came back to check the surf. This was just after everyone
left. They had no idea what happened. They could not believe it was so good at
Freights and nobody was in the water. They paddled straight out and had the
session of their lives. The shark didn’t come back, luckily. That night they
came over to Surfers Point and told me all about their session. Only then did
they find out about the tiger shark as the blood drained from their
faces!”
For Meyerhoffer this was a story of
design. There is a powerful lesson to be learned from all sea life, so well
adapted. Humans work against currents and winds, powering machines, to journey
in the straightest possible line. But this is hugely inefficient. Turtles and
sharks use the currents to travel. Dolphins in pods leap so high because they
work collaboratively to produce strong vortices and eddies in the water that
supplement their muscle power, allowing them to burst higher and further than
their standing body mass should allow.
“But the board has got to fit the
curl,” said Thomas, musing on the fact that most surfboards are designed
against the grain of this observation.
“Ocean dynamics are complex,” I added.
“Complexity theory is key,” replied
Thomas. While surfers intuitively know about wave action and its relationship
to bottom shape, these links are still unexplained fully by science. Wave and
surf breaks, as interacting living processes, operate not in a formal and
predictable balanced position between order and chaos, but at maximum
complexity at the edge of chaos, as a nonlinear, adaptive system - that’s
complexity theory. Waves are emergent properties of complex systems, and so are
surfboards. But most surfboard shapers make boards with a linear mindset, so
the board is not emergent, but falls off the conveyor belt as a linear product.
And these boards surf linear and produce linear mindsets.
“How can we design a board inspired
by the lines and the spirits of sharks, whales, dolphins and fast cars?”
Meyerhoffer asked. It was a hypothesis, and our minds were ticking over as a
shoulder-high set arrived. The tide was now lower and these three waves looked
sure to connect into a 200 metres long wailer. They did, requiring maximum
trim. I climbed and dropped as the face sucked up with a distinctive hiss,
before unpeeling like a banana. I was concentrating on tail dynamics the whole
ride, then paddling back out, concluded:
“Hold it Thomas. I’m totally wrong. After thinking wider tails, I
realised on that ride that the more drawn-out narrower tails you are already
using in your designs (these prototypes we are riding) go like the wind. They
move beautifully. With your distinctive hourglass outline, the boards have to
use the narrow tail concept. But what if we shape the tails like a dolphin’s
nose – a nose at the tail - back-to-front-surfing-going-forwards.”
“Surf Forward is my motto,” said Meyerhoffer,
horizon-bound as ever.
“Why
don’t we push everything to the limit – a sleek new nine footer - a supersonic
amalgam transcended to another form – but let’s not make this clinical. We’re
not talking about a white cube here, but a motion, a fluid, a liquid thought
and an animal leap of faith.”
“A
Porsche of longboards.”
I groped
for a decent analogy in the face of Thomas’ curveball. But instead asked, “What’s the plan for the nose shape?”
“Square nose? I really like the look
of them – the hammerhead shark.” This seemed feasible all of a sudden.
“It’ll look like a strange, elusive
sea creature, and it doesn’t really have any negative impacts on noseriding
ability.”
Thomas was already sketching in his
mind.
“Where are we going to design these
board Thomas?”
“I can bring the shaping bay with me
Sam. It’s on the computer.” The white cube of Silicon Valley design is actually
a moveable feast. The only barrier is a zip and your imagination.
Back at Zed’s apartment Meyerhoffer
opened his MacBook Air and suddenly
the aura of the white cube minimalist San
Francisco shaping bay came alive as bubbling design software, more alchemical
than chemical.
“Computer
assisted design (CAD). This is what I use. It’s the best way to explore the
shapes. When we are happy with the design we program the file into a computer
numerical control (CNC) machine back in San Francisco. Cuts and shapes the
board to exact specifications.” Thomas was humming with enthusiasm.
“What about the
blanks?”
“I use recycled epoxy blanks. The
computer-controlled router leaves a few rough edges, so I sand the rail shapes
at the very end by hand. Then I deliver the board to the glassing bay.
Everything still gets a personal touch.”
“This is
sophisticated stuff.”
“It’s the now Sam.
Or the near future, like J G Ballard’s novels. You grasp the tail of the animal
that outruns you and get used to the liquidity of the ride. Gotta surf forward,
look ahead, or else we’ll get lost in the past. The computer for me
is as much as of a tool as any other tool to get to where you want to be as a
shaper. I can go through tens of prototypes while designing these longboards on
the computer. Such experimentation would be impossible with conventional hand
shaping due to time and cost. The planer and saw are great tools for hacking
off unwanted bits of foam, but nothing beats a CNC machine for efficiency and
consistency.”
Meyerhoffer, Zed and I scribbled and sketched on
notepads and soon built up a series of CAD files on his MacBook Air between surfs and strong coffees. Somehow the computer
seemed to give off an aroma too or at least it beamed and we reacted. We
stretched out lengths, accentuated curves, tweaked tail shapes. We talked
future-forward languages of radical contours to bring animal life to basically
the dead matter of the surfboard. The overall look was feminine – it had a
pulled in waist and hips. The back area was designed around an egg shape. This
should allow a particular turning arc. The waist on the board is what makes it
look unique.
“The design purpose is to reduce
volume in the board where you don’t need it,” said Meyerhoffer. “Less waste
through the waist, based on principles of redundancy in information science.”
“Complexity theory meets
hydro-physics.”
“Yes. I get it. Long lengths of
thick rail can cause drag.” This also makes the board easier to paddle, as the
arms do not need to be extended so much as on a regular board, and it’s easier
to carry, making it a good choice for kids and the less bulky (my wife Sandy
will love it).
“If longboards are politicians
Thomas, this is a forward-looking left-winger.” The nose was squared off
(modelled on the hammerhead) and the underside was concaved out to give maximum
noseriding lift.
The tail was my favourite element,
pulled out like a dolphin’s nose to provide sharp acceleration. Then we got
seriously detailed on bottom contours. The radical single-to-double-concave
should offer slick rail-to-rail transitions. A shallow but wide indentation in
the middle of the board led to a pair of lateral concaves in the dolphin tail
area underneath the fins, aimed to improve both speed and turning
characteristics. The intention is that it glides, and never slides. It’s a
board that invites improvisation.
Suddenly, the secret to surfboards
was to ‘think’ with the board.
“The material world must expand our
consciousness, not hinder it. If we design badly, we live a cumbersome, dulled
life. If we design well, we enhance life through beauty and aesthetic,” said
Meyerhoffer. ‘Aesthetic’ literally means ‘sense impression’ and aesthetics
expands our senses. We can become more animal-like in our bodily awareness
through good design, as an extension of the body. Every surfer knows that
improvisation is key, as no wave unfolds like the one before. Expert surfers,
like artists, greet uncertainty and ambiguity with a smile developing what the
educationalist Donald Schön described as ‘practice artistry’, the ability to
‘reflect-in-action’ or improvise.
Meyerhoffer and I travelled back to
our respective daily routines in California and Cornwall. The last burst of
momentum in the design process was the cyberspace exchange of the final board
specification pdfs. Meyerhoffer decided to call the new model the XYZ - a
design alphabet of surfboards - an entire surf history collapsed into one design
moment. Meyerhoffer entered the CAD file into the
CNC machine. It cut and shaped the recycled epoxy blank to exact specification
within an hour, leaving a rough rail edge that Meyerhoffer sanded down by hand. The personal touch continued as dextrous hands glassed
the board by applying plant-based resins. Meyerhoffer made three versions of the
XYZ.
We met up back again in Barbados. It
was the ultimate testing ground for these new craft and is half way between our
respective homes, has a variety of waves to trial, and there is a welcoming
host (and fellow test-driver) in Zed. The Caribbean has emerged from the worlds
of slavery and colonialism with pride. Caribbean cultures have maintained
dignity but also a dark lyricism. The Meyerhoffer XYZ board is also a syncretic
product – a vast array of design characteristics brought together in one object
and celebrated for its multiple voices.
I unpacked the new
quiver of XYZs, fumbling with anticipation to handle these futuristic hybrid
shapes. As I pulled the first magic rabbit out the hat I smelt the fresh cured
coat of epoxy resin. The board was clear white, her curves enough to get my
heart racing. I noticed the bottom contour. My arm hairs stood on end. It
started with a tear drop nose concave under the nose, amplified to full volume,
then blended into an elongated single shallow but wide indentation in the
middle of the board to a radical double concave lateral to the fins through the
back area, kissing the dolphin-nose shaped tail. ‘Fast!’ and ‘Alive!’ were the
first two words that came to mind, capitalized, exclaimed. I added fins, waxed
up and ran down the beach like a kid.
The water was bubbling with foam
from spent waves near the shore. We paddled out together. Long lefts unpeeled
like zippers and left the air stained with spray. Meyerhoffer was mid-thought:
“You know what Sam. Hot air is going
to be spent arguing the relative merits of this board, but if we don’t take
risks, surfboard design will stagnate. Design should be about the creation of
disruptive innovations and new experiences.” We must break through sets of
expectations and crystallized habits and thinking to emerge with something that
will set our surfing at a new standard. From looking at and thinking about the
XYZ, I began to ‘think with’ the XYZ, facilitated by technologies that were not
available to the first surfers – the kings and queens of Hawaii.
The XYZ had a voice. It was lyrical.
I’ve never had a board before that I can truly say ‘sang’ in the water in the
way that this did. I rose on a set, throwing caution to the wind and turning
the board so sharply that I feared the fins would pop clear out the water in a
wail. Relief struck as I gripped and accelerated up the waveface. I met a crisp
edge of saltwater lip with a sharp, precise turn to race back down the wave.
There was no skitter or stall. Through the inside sections I created
latticework in the wave, throwing a range of shadows on the sea. The noserides
felt distinguished - as if I was absolutely right on the pulse – that is, just
off the beat, responding to a bend in the curl, an eddy in the reef. The board
followed the same complex pattern of breaking wave, breaking the design mould,
thriving in the moment, surfing into the future. New contours. New horizons.
Jazz musician Ornette Coleman invented the term
‘harmelodics’ to describe his lyrical but often free approach to music –
strange, escalating harmonies that retained bright, memorable melody. This was
close to riding the XYZ – bottom turn, trim, cutback, turn again to gain speed,
duck under a crumbling section, walk to the nose, five toes over, walk back
tastefully, S-turn, gain speed and find the pocket, drift out and bottom turn,
kick out as the wave expires. A strange
rhythm, or playing one rhythm behind another, or bending notes to produce
flattened ‘blue’ notes, or improvisation around a theme, or dissonance, or
unexpected chord progressions, are all part and parcel of what makes harmelodics interesting and
challenging. Riding the XYZ was harmelodics
in action. No room for squares.
“This is pretty eccentric stuff, a
hammerhead shark of boards, an encyclopedia of design contours” said Zed.
“Surfers risk ridicule from the
entire line up riding something so different,” I added.
“But who cares?” concluded Zed. He
was right. Who cares? No room for squares. We were proud that we had the confidence
and open minds to ride these beauties. To surf a Meyerhoffer requires letting
go. Can you let go? Do you have the confidence to try one of these?
Meyerhoffer’s view of the world is that the human mind is extended into a
material world of artefacts – objects, instruments, and equipment. But, to
expand a beautiful mind, these must be challenging objects. Useful and
worthwhile yes, elegant and desirable, but also challenging and unconventional.
Riding the XYZ, I realized that
Meyerhoffer had taught me, in the search for the perfect longboard, that body,
mind, surfboard and wave are part of a complete unit that is itself a fluid
design problem, constantly being addressed through flexible thinking and
physical design know-how. I have never met a surfboard shaper who has this
risk-taking creative design mentality, to think (and feel) with an object, and
who has a crystalline view of design without the clinical trappings that place purity
before funk. I would argue that the XYZ is minimalist - everything stripped
back to pure functionality, creating a wonderful complex aesthetic, but it
screams like Ornette playing his particular brand of funk, future bound…the XYZ
of surfing.
