
(click to enlarge)

Top to bottom: a wedging peak near the Shun Tak Centre; long period swell hitting the sandbar off Tsim Tsa Tsui; smokin' right barrel in Macau.
Whenever I'm gazing out from the Star Ferry, I find myself thinking that the only way Victoria Harbour could be more spectacular is if there were surfable waves peeling into Sheung Wan. So during a slow work period a couple of years back, I knocked these out in photoshop to keep my skills up. Later, in August '08, typhoon Nuri was making international headlines...and, well...the Victoria Harbour surf pics seemed to be begging for release. Adopting the nom de Wacom "Otis Chen" (in homage of Otis Chandler, long-time publisher of the Los Angeles TImes, who loved to surf), I submitted the somewhat questionable pictures to a famous surfing website. They were quite well-received. There's a hit counter on their page for each photo, and I could see it was climbing fast. I began to get alarmed when one was automatically entered into the "photo of the month" contest, and won second place. Thank God it didn't win a prize, I said to myself, envisioning handcuffs slapped on my wrists as I showed up in boardshorts to claim my free trip to the Pipeline Masters, or whatever. I was relieved when things seemed to be dying down. The hit count began to level off and I thought that was the end of it. Then one day I received an email from the editor: would I be interested in doing a surf-travel feature? By then work had picked up, and slightly freaked-out Hong Kong correspondent Otis Chen had no choice but to decline. Cowabunga.

Cheung Chau was once inhabited by pirates and it's got a couple of spooky old temples. Friend of mine who lives there says the island is haunted. Fast forward to me in the studio working on this little oil study, and about an hour into it I suddenly realize I'm not feeling well, my arms are so heavy I can't lift my mahl stick. I lie down on the floor and it passes, but as soon as I start working again, sick and dizzy. I push on and wrap it up after another hour and a half, and then I'm perfectly fine again. Could just be the humidity...


I don't know the name of this building in Wanchai — I've always referred to it as The "Wine of China" Building, because that's what the enormous neon sign on the roof says in Chinese. Each time I sketch it from another angle I realize it's not quite the shape I thought it was before. It's like a giant puzzle — each side of the building steps in a little differently than the others.
Last week I took the ferry out of Wanchai, which I hadn't done for maybe 6 months, and I noticed something different:


I'm going to a party tonight where everyone will be getting temporary tattoos, and this is my contribution.
I can't see a tattoo without thinking of my friend back in Los Angeles, Alexis "Gents of Desire" Ross, who not only designs groovy tattoos but applies them with a homemade contraption fashioned out of what appears to be piano wire, a sewing machine motor, and the plastic casing of a ball-point pen. Alexis is a learned connoisseur of what I like to call the "LA Latino Ex-convict Sign Painter Flirting With Parole Violation" style of design.









