The Sea is my mistress. Here I am after 40 years in the commercial and fine art business, using my creativity to develop universally appealing ideas for films, commercials and books. Today I am playing a major part in a new movement in marine painting called SURF ART.
Find Ron's art at RonCroci.com
Having spent half a lifetime shaping my ability to draw and paint the human figure in all forms of activity from war, to sports to sex, which are not as different from one another as you may think, I am now devoting my energies to this new movement. I have created my art illustrating surfing, spear fishing and many other kinds of water sports activities. All of these epitomize and create the basis of my love of marine art.
After years of participating in this sport I have seen it all; the good, the bad and the ugly.
The good. I’ve watched the lovely Hawaiian sunsets over Diamond Head while happy hour music drifts across the lagoon. A whispering ocean spray showers my face as a rainbow forms in the mist. Palm trees swaying while little pink puffs of clouds in the distance drift across the waterfalls of Manoa Valley. I’ve seen the flaming corona of a setting sun as the full moon rises to greet the flying fish that leapt across my surfboard. I’ve gazed through my final wave, tubing over my head and seen the moon’s pale blue orb distorted through the curl. Life is good.
The bad. Another day on the beach and some swaggering surf punks are walking to the shore with their boards, snarling at tourists, scarring them into sitting on the waves shoulder and keeping away from the perfect waves they will never catch. “IT’S MINE,” I hear a voice shout as two men try to catch the same wave. The surfer who shouted is closest to the curl and races past the one in front of him. As he passes, he backhands the other across the face. Why? Because the hard core surfer spends every day, plus a fortune, to live near the beach; spending money on gas, equipment, and making many friends and sacrifices. Then when a pidgin breasted, tow haired kook right off the plane drops right in on that perfect wave on that perfect day. That beautiful wave that is coming right at the local surfer, yes, he’s going to rage.
The ugly. Fueled by alcohol and drugs the surfer thieves appear. Creeping around parking lots like weasels, looking for car doors left open. They slink around and break into vehicles, taking wallets, purses and anything they can, only to buy more intoxicants and continue the cycle, until they’re spotted and a rumble breaks out. Police arrive, but by then everyone has disappeared. And, it’s very ugly.
This is what the sport and art of surfing is; the losers and the winners. The lousy and degraded grey, windy, cold, junk surf; and nature’s liquid gem which brings whispering off-shore breezes that feather along the edge of transparent turquoise waves all heading toward land to dissipate finally on the shore.
I have lived it all. This is the subject matter of my art.
For thousands of years the Sea has been portrayed in its many moods and forms; however, not until now have viewers of the genera seen the perfect peeling wave pin wheeling around a point of land or folding onto itself across the sands of a snow white beach. The tropics, the desert, the open Pacific coast, or even at the Arctic Circle; all have given us the beautiful waves that we love to paint.
But, why do I stand apart from most other surf artists? It is because I rarely paint waves or the beach without people. The surfers, the lovers, the thieves or the wanderers, all are integral parts of the beach scene.
I invite you to join me in experiencing the exhilaration of the marine world through my work. Picture yourself where I have placed my people and ask, “Could this be me?”