FROM SOUTH AFRICA TO SOHO:
THE ARTISTIC ANGLES OF SURF PHOTOGRAPHER GRANT MYRDAL

By Mike Fish

Picture this: A ritzy art gallery in New York City’s famed SoHo district. Within this gallery, there’s a man dressed in an expensive suit swilling white wine out of a plastic cup, his eyes a bit agog as he views a photo of Pipeline spitting like an irate python. His look is static until he gulps down the last drop of vino, puts his hand on his chin emphatically, and points wide-eyed at the picture like a child who sees something through a toy store window.

“Wow… that’s just amazing,” he sputters sincerely.

That’s part of what New York-based surf photographer Grant Myrdal was shooting for with his photographic exhibit, “Turquoise Dreamland,” which ran for two months in NYC’s Belenky Gallery this fall. Myrdal looks to bring the unparalleled, eye-catching beauty of surfing not only to surfers like himself who’ve experienced the sensual glory of waveriding first-hand, but to people everywhere—even unjazzed businessmen in expensive suits. A former competitive surfer raised in South Africa’s Jeffrey’s Bay, Grant knows a good wave. This shows in his wide range of colorful technique, ranging from pure Zen to gut-wrenching. The photos in his exhibit, shot from both land and water, are meditations on Hawaiian surfscapes mixed in with Grant’s growing collection of Right Coast material. Some shots focus on the act of surfing and some display artsy natural imagery of the waveriding environment devoid of human interaction. Outside of his exhibit, Grant has infiltrated the mainstream surf press as well, having been published in a variety of mags including Surfer, The Surfer’s Path, ESM, and Zigzag. ESM caught up with Grant during a Rhode Island hurricane chase and spoke with him about his budding photography career and the unlikely, somewhat perverse, transition from being housed 30 minutes from one of the best breaks in the world to being stuck in North Salem, New York.

ESM: From J-Bay to inland New York… seriously, what gives?
GM: Basically, it was all about wanting to see the world. Even though J-Bay is one of the best waves on the planet, and some people think I was crazy to leave, I’ve always had a deep wanderlust. I left home about 10 years ago, and my wife and I traveled extensively through Europe, Central America, and the U.S. But it came to the point where we wanted to stay in one place, and we were offered green cards through my wife’s job in New York. I came here thinking it was the end of my surfing, but it all turned out good. And it kind of led me into the art world of New York City.

ESM: Were you just baffled that there was even a surfing community in NYC?
GM: Totally. I joined the local Surfrider, wanting to make some kind of contact with surfers, but I thought it would be a hoax. I thought it would be a bunch of suits hanging out, dreaming about surfing, not real surfers. And I’ve gotta say, I was pretty impressed. Even with the lowly waves you get around here, guys are hardcore, and they surf through the winter, which is pretty admirable.

ESM: Were you into photography back in South Africa, or did you develop that interest later?
GM: While I was traveling, I bought a cheap second-hand camera, and I shot scenery and lineups from the beach. I wasn’t doing any legitimate surf photography. After six years on the road and having so much freedom, I ended up having to take a day job. It was during that period, during the time when I first got to New York, where I got to a crossroads and thought, “I don’t want to have an office job forever. There must be a way I can follow my dream and still make a living.” That’s really what drew me to surf photography.

ESM: What were your early experiences once you decided to seriously start shooting surfing?
GM: I’d been taking photos of landscapes and stuff for 10 years prior to stepping into surf photography, so I had a fairly good eye for composition. But with something like water photography... well, I wasn’t very good. I remember a small day in Hawaii where I was in the water, and about halfway through the session my friend Richard Sills, who I’ve subsequently scored a few covers of, came flying at me. He was ready to bust a big move but overdid it a little bit and slid right into me, breaking the top off my housing as well as my camera. It was a lot of trial and error in the beginning, but I’m starting to get it.

ESM: As evidenced by the variety of your work—both high action surfing and mind-blowing natural surfscapes—your material is somewhat different from the average lensman. What are you personally trying to achieve with your surf photography?
GM: At first, I would go out shooting guys—snap off thirty shots and think I had it sown up. But then I’d look around and see all these amazing images that a lot other surf photographers ignored because they only focused on the surfer. I guess the essence for me, having been a surfer all my life, is all those incredible moments you have. There’s a myriad of them just when you’re paddling out. A friend was telling me the other day about surfing in Long Island when the sun was coming up and the moon was setting, both opposite of each other. It’s that kind of thing… all the visions you see. Amazing moments like paddling over a wave and looking down thinking, “Wow that’s insane.” It’s all a matter of bringing those memories back.

ESM: There was a pretty diverse crowd at the exhibit opening the other night. Do you think non-surfers can appreciate your work, too?
GM: Absolutely. The most fun is all those non-surfers who come up and ask me about the waves and Hawaii, saying, “You surfers are crazy. How do you do it?” Questions a lot of surfers already know the answers to. But to a non-surfer, I think it’s really quite unusual for them… I think they can appreciate the whole picture of what we are lucky to see every day: The beautiful sky, the incredible reflections off the water, and the surfer doing his dance in the middle of that. I like that these people can check it out, enjoy it, and see a little bit about what we do and what we enjoy about our sport.

ESM: Now that your work has been accepted as “art” by the notoriously scrupulous collectors in NYC, do you view your work from a surf artist’s standpoint or a surf photographer’s?
GM: That’s a good question. When I started off, I actually thought I was going to be a surf photographer. For the magazines, you have to capture the action primarily: it has to be well-lit; it has to be sharp. For the most part, they’re not really worried about art. As long as it’s some top surfer doing some crazy move, you’re going to get your shot in the mag. But as I got more into it, especially having a camera in the water, which most photographers never have a chance to do, the art aspect sort of developed subconsciously. I never really said, “I’m going to go out and do surf art.” I was out there shooting and developed this kind of separate strand of focus. I think the more you see the art of it all, the more creative you get with your action photos as well.

ESM: Having established yourself as a transplant Right Coaster, what do you think defines the East Coast in comparison to other places you’ve traveled?
GM: I would say that surfers here are really happy with what they have. And that’s saying a lot. It’s amazing. Surfers in other parts of the world complain about onshore winds, two-foot waves or stuff like that. On the East Coast, guys are so committed, so happy to get anything. I know a lot of them travel and get really good waves, but when they’re at home, it’s really incredible how they go surfing at all costs.

ESM: So are you sticking around this time, or are you starting to get the globetrotting itch again?
GM: I’ll always have the globetrotting itch, but I’ve got my green card now, so I can’t really leave [laughs]. I spend three months in Hawaii every year, and that kind of makes up for it. Also, I’ve been exploring the East Coast, and I really enjoy that. I’d like to eventually go back to J-Bay because I’ve never taken photos there. But for now, I’m really enjoying being able to put something back into the surf world—feeding the stoke like it’s fed me.