I was first introduced to Surfer magazine as a middle schooler in Massachusetts, on a trip to Barnes and Noble with my late grandfather. He bought me my first magazine, and I became hooked, looking forward to that trip to the bookstore each month to buy the new issue and eventually coming home from school to find the newest magazine waiting in the mailbox. Thus, it was a sad surprise when Surfer suddenly furloughed its entire staff this past October, signaling the end of the publication’s 60-year history. Unfortunately, Surfer’s demise is the latest in a long trend of magazine closures; it represents the end of once common and massed produced publications, caused by the rise of technology.  Upon reflecting on Surfer, I’ve come to realize that this moment in 2020 forces us to look towards the past to understand Surfer’s history while also looking forward towards the importance of print in the uncertain world of 2020. 

When talking about the importance of physical objects such as print magazines in an increasingly digital world, one can draw upon Stephen Greenblatt’s ‘Resonance and Wonder.’ Greenblatt argues that artifacts of the past possess the same ability to tell stories as literary history, and thus should be treated with the same form of reverence by scholars. At the essay’s start, Greenblatt discusses the deeper significance of a hat worn by an actor playing Wolsey in Shakespeare’s Henry VIII. Eventually Greenblatt concludes, “The peregrinations of Wolsey’s hat suggest that cultural artifacts do not stay still, that they exist in time, and that they are bound up with personal and institutional conflicts, negotiations and appropriations.” (Greenblatt, Pg. 11) As a scholar of renaissance literature, and as a new historicist, Stephen Greenblatt seeks to understand history through literature, and in turn, literature through its cultural context. In light of Surfer’s closure this past October, the magazines and their history can be viewed as a moment in time, and thus they can now be approached as artifacts like the hat Greenblatt discusses in this passage. This lens allows Surfer to take on another form entirely, becoming far more than just a monthly surf magazine. 

As the essay continues, Greenblatt further explores this idea of investigating artifacts, leading him to conclude that the importance of an artifact lies in its ability to evoke resonance and wonder.  Issues of Surfer from the present and past possess both these elements, making them the perfect example of Greenblatt’s beliefs surrounding historical artifacts. In his own words, Greenblatt describes the first term, writing, “By ‘resonance’ I mean the power of the object displayed to reach out beyond its formal boundaries to a larger world, to evoke in the viewer the complex, dynamic cultural forces from which it has emerged and for which – as a metaphor or, more simply, as metonymy – it may be taken by a viewer to stand.” (Greenblatt, Pg. 19-20) The concept of Surfer Magazine perfectly fulfills this idea. Simply put, Surfer resonates because it puts the abstract sport of surfing on display, and uses it as a medium to discuss universal issues, such as politics, economics, and even human relationships.

Throughout Surfer’s tenure, and my time as a reader, its articles and contents have reflected the times we were living in. Surfer’s last print issue does this as well as any issue its ever put forth, which is a testament to the magazine’s power, especially considering the tumultuous roller coaster that 2020 has been. The magazine’s cover is an aerial shot from July 3rd of this year, depicting the paddle out ceremony that took place in Encinitas, California in the days following the death of George Floyd; The photo shows 3000 people participating in one of surf culture’s sacred ceremony’s in order to honor the life of George Floyd and to protest systematic racism in America. The cover, which also shows the magazine’s title in its top left corner and a small phrase reading, “we’re all in this together,” could not do a better job of capturing the events of this past summer through the lens of surfing and its culture. 

In the letter from the Editor, Todd Prodanovich reflects on the magazine’s plans for 2020, its 60th birthday, and how those plans were put on the back burner in light of the Coronavirus, the election, and the summer’s social justice movements.  He also uses the magazine’s anniversary as an opportunity to look back on its and surf culture’s past mistakes, in order to look towards the future with hope and an initiative to make change. Three of the magazine’s five major articles discuss topics of 2020 in great detail, including motherhood and its relationship to surfing, the LGBTQ+ surf community, and a black Surfer from Queens, New York’s initiative to bring surfing to black youth, while also leading surfers to protest racial inequality. Another article discusses the place of professional surfing in a Covid-19 world, poignantly asking, “Pro surfing has been an indulgence in a time of plenty – where does it stand in an uncertain world?” (Surfer Pg., 36) Someday, if my children or grandchildren find this magazine amongst my belongings, they will be able to read it and better understand the world I lived through in 2020, truly proving Surfer’s resonance. 

The print magazine has an ability to resonate both in the present and for years to come, and following Stephen Greenblatt’s essay, it is also able to evoke a sense of wonder in its reader. In his essay, Greenblatt defines wonder as, “the power of the object displayed to stop the viewer in his tracks, to convey an arresting sense of uniqueness, to evoke an exalted attention.” (Greenblatt, pg. 20) Print magazines especially have the ability to create this sense of wonder, because their physical presence stands the test of time. At their very core, magazines are made for their reader to sit with and to spend time with. This idea has become a rarity in the world of ephemeral Instagram posts, tweets, and online articles, further proving the importance of print. 

One of the beauties of print publications is that it allows you to keep coming back. On Blackout Tuesday and throughout early July, people saw countless photos and images showing support for Black Lives Matter and the black community. But, the nature of the internet is that the world kept moving, and a few days, weeks, or even months later, those images of support have come and gone. In contrast, the final Surfer Magazine has sat on the top of my bookshelf for months since I bought it, placing its supportive cover on full display for me to see each time I walk by. As a result, I have spent far more time in the past few months reflecting on the world today through the lens of the cover of Surfer Magazine, than I have through any other modern medium where I might encounter another photo like it. 

This idea and notion holds true on more simple matters, such as the giant photo spreads that Surfer is known for. The invention of the iPhone and digital cameras has all but eliminated the need for print photos, and yet, the nature of print photos is that they leave you in a daze, wanting to pour over them for an extended period of time. There is something about the photos in Surfer that makes you want to sit with them, taking in all of the colors and details, allowing your mind to wander to the places where they take place and all of the possibilities of this great world. In a pandemic stricken world, Surfer and other print magazines like it can offer their readers an escape from their day to day lives, something that has become increasingly necessary in 2020.

Returning to Greenblatt’s view of literature as something that needs to be understood through its cultural context, it would be remiss to not mention the moments Surfer has created for its readers and staff. On the eve of Surfer’s passing, Brendon Thomas, the magazine’s editor from my childhood posted a thread of tweets as a form of reflection on the publication, as well as the moments and opportunities it created. One of the most touching tweets reads:

“Near the end of my tenure, I organized the Momentum Reunion trip to the Mentawai Islands in Indonesia. It wasn’t lost on me one day down there that I was on an island for two weeks surfing with every one of my childhood heroes. That couldn’t have happened without @Surfer.” (Thomas) 

“My heroes became my friends and I made many, many more thanks to @Surfer. It brought me to the U.S. and I consider it one of the great honors of my life to have been handed the keys and trusted with capturing and steering surf culture. RIP SURFER. 1960-2020.” (Thomas) 

 

As the editor, Thomas has magazines to his name to show for his lived experience, but the publication has surely inspired lived experience, thoughts, and emotion to countless readers. Clearly, the magazine’s resonance exists far beyond the physical print for its former editor, and this holds true for surfers and readers across the world who were graced with the opportunity to read and experience Surfer throughout its 60-year run.

Luckily, despite the increasing closures of traditional print establishments, hope for print is arriving in the form of reader supported print publications. In the world of surfing, a bi-monthly print magazine called The Surfer’s Journal has taken the place of Surfer, and is even published by former Surfer editor Brendon Thomas. Contrary to the traditionally mass-produced magazines, the Surfer’s Journal is unique because it resembles a coffee table magazine rather than a flimsy print magazine. Magazines like these are popping up in all sorts of different fields, including The Golfer’s Journal in golf and Hodinkee Magazine in the world of watches, and their existence prove that there is still a market for thoughtfully curated and carefully constructed magazines, even in a world with smartphones and Covid-19. I would argue this market exists due to the resonance and wonder these magazines are capable of instilling in their readers. My hope is that print and these magazines will continue to stand the test of time, so I will someday be able to buy them for my grandkids, introducing them to entirely new worlds of their own.