Full Circle
A night dedicated to print, with The Surfer’s Journal, County Highway, and Wayward Magazine
Written by Angie Stevens | September 26
Six o’clock and there was a nip in the air. It was the evening before the fall equinox, the telltale sign one season was folding in on itself and another would soon unfurl and take its spot. Folks stood congregated along Cambria’s Main Street on a corner that feels like the center of the world and the gathering place of outcasts, of dreamers and artists, and those that live off the grid or live to subtly rebel against the chaos of the times.
Owen and I had come straight from Moonstone Beach, shoving the car doors of his old Tacoma shut and waltzing arm-in-arm towards the crowd. Soon we were in the center of beautiful conversation with friends old and new. Two buckets of 805s on heaps of ice were situated in a truck bed parked on the street in front of Cruise Control Gallery, dwindling by the minute by outstretched hands.
It was evident that all the gallery-goers knew of Cruise Control’s magic; how it holds space for every weary visitor and remains inviting, while making apparent it doesn’t want or expect anything from you. The art on the walls is never pushed on your wallet, only good conversation on the couch and perhaps a cup of freshly brewed coffee from the owner, Charlie Smith.
In this manner, to show up and spend precious hours at an event like this was of everyone’s own volition. And there was great beauty in that, as always.
Dedicated to print publishing, the evening included The Surfer’s Journal, County Highway, and Wayward Magazine. The great Jamie Brisick and Alex Wilson of SJ stood by Ryan Baesemann of CH, and Allan Gibbons—whose mesmerizing airbrush paintings were lining the walls with rich color—mingled about.
“Here for the show?”
“Sure am,” I replied to a perfect stranger.
Only later when the crowd was called in and to their seats, and I stepped up and found mine on the couch in the front with the big dogs of print, did it become clear that I was the face of this third, lesser-known publication in the lineup; the newcomer on the block, the young, female voice who would contrast the decades-long experiences of the others.
Questions of how I got there swirled about in my mind. Just a few months earlier I found myself in Feature Writing, one of my last Journalism classes at Cal Poly, with Ryan, a guest speaker for the day, diving into the ins and outs of his newspaper and leaving me with lightbulb ideas. A year prior I found myself on a call with Alex, picking his brain with curious questions and yearning for any wisdom he could bestow. And there I was, bouncing ideas and experiences off of them in front of a crowd of smiling faces.
Talk revolved around print costs and endless cycles of not knowing. Of the friction it takes to commit time and time again to a slower medium of knowledge-sharing and storytelling, and the unmatched feeling of seeing a long haul process to the end. Jamie spoke of his decades-long relationship with the Surfer’s Journal, having written for the first issue way back when, and how he’s grown to become the one of the publication’s right-hand men. Alex shared the pressures of stepping up as editor of such a highly-revered entity in the surf and print culture canon, and Ryan dove into finding a voice with his 19th-century, newsprint deep dive into the country’s grittiest stories.
Unlike the thousands of pitches the others receive between every print cycle, Wayward’s nonexistent contributor-base meant I had to bug any friends or creatives I knew and convince them to pen a story or share their images for my “zine.” Sharing this painful yet fulfilling journey with the crowd freshened up the landscape of the conversation, and garnered some grins or good laughs.
The waning light outside added to the chat’s natural progression. I reveled in the room’s passion for slowness. I felt endless inspiration for issue 002, which will soon be born in this next season of creating. The night proved to me that putting my head down and getting my idea to print these last ten months can lead to connections with some of the faces in the industry that inspire me the most.
Wayward Mag, Issue 001: the foundation made tangible, resting in a stack by my seat on the couch. Soon, copy after copy was picked up by new hands, ‘til they were gone. Chatter amongst the crowd resumed as we all flooded back onto Main Street in the dark night. I was high on energy; connecting with fascinating people always does that to me. There was so much flowing in the mind, and simultaneously a perfect blank slate.
Owen and I didn’t listen to music the whole way home. Windows down, the warm September air whoosed in and we bounced between ideas and excitements a mile a minute as the car ate the dotted white lines along Highway 1. Everything made sense. Our perfect stubbornness that leads us each day to our creative endeavors. The shortcomings and enlightening moments. We’ll take ‘em all, we said. Always!
