I Wish I Knew This About Creativity When I Started 40 Years Ago
Some say that failure is the greatest teacher, but I disagree.
When I finally got my ass off the couch and out into the world, I realized that real creativity isn’t always found by doing things, but instead, by experiencing them.
This story is part of this month’s creative exploration series. If you missed last week’s introduction, check it out here:
Side Note: I have a big announcement below. I’m bringing something back that will make being a member even more valuable, so stick around for that.
So there I am, sand warming from the midday sun, the waves lapping at my ankles, and people encroaching into my personal space with each passing minute. There’s hundreds of people staring out at the ocean, all of them waiting for the majesty and mayhem of nature’s fury while a couple dozen brave souls get tossed around in the froth, pushing aside fear as 20-foot monsters come crashing down on their heads.
Every summer in California, warm water is pushed up from Mexico from storms in the mid-Pacific. These south swells usually create some of the best surf conditions across the southern part of the state, but every once in a while, we get a swell so heavy that it creates epic conditions, resulting in the largest (and often most dangerous) waves, especially for one famous surf spot; The Wedge.
Whenever a South is headed our way, the news travels fast; first with the amateur climatologists, then the surf watch websites, through the different crews of local surfers, and eventually to the normies who have only heard the legends but never experienced them.
I grew up near Newport Beach, the home of The Wedge, and frequented the beach almost daily in my early summers. I’ve surfed that beach many times, but never in these conditions. That wave is a thrill ride on regular days, but unpredictable and terrifying on it’s biggest, but always a spectacle.
It’s probably been twenty years since I went down to see the waves in action, and honestly had no intention to go because I live 45 minutes away and gas is expensive, but on Tuesday morning, I saw a random video on Instagram talking about the big South hitting the area, and on a whim, decided to go see the action.
I unearthed my photography gear, which I had not used in years, from the closet only to find it dustry and badly mismanaged. All of my batteries were dead and my SD cards were missing. I started charging one battery and then dug out the large power station we use for emergencies so I could charge the other batteries while I drove down (yes, this was an emergency). I packed the power station, my tripod, and my camera bag into my truck and headed South, opting for a trip down the coast instead of the highway, so I could see the conditions on all the beaches along the way.
The Wedge is located at the very end of the Balboa Peninsula, which on days like this, creates a heavy choke point for traffic. It was crowded and I was worried I would have to park a long distance from the spot and walk in (I thought about bringing my skateboard, but since I hadn’t been on that in years either, I didn’t want to risk a broken hip). I got lucky though; as I neared the location, another guy in a truck was pulling out, leaving me the perfect-sized space to occupy and less than 100 yards from the beach entrance—this was going to be an epic day, I could feel it already.
I parked, grabbed the camera, tripod, and one battery to charge in case I needed to come back and get it. People were everywhere, as were amateur photographers carrying the kind of gear I wish I had but didn’t. I never felt the need for an ultra-long lens, so my meager 200mm kit lens would have to do, but I would find out soon enough that it wouldn’t do at all.
I found a gap in the lineup of other spectators and shooters, unpacked my gear, set up my tripod, and waited for the action. As I was getting ready, I noticed my camera’s operating system wasn’t working correctly. I couldn’t adjust my focal settings, or at least the readout wasn’t displaying them. I also couldn’t see the screen on the back. Between the high-noon sun and my dark sunglasses, reading anything was near impossible, and without the sunglasses, I’m too blind to read anything. I was going to have to wing it. I only had about ninety minutes before I had to head home to grab my son from school, so I made the most of it; taking photos of the waves, the surfers, the lifeguards, and the crowd.
The energy was high; everyone was hooting and hollering for the big sets and cheering on the brave ones that took their shot at greatness along the face of a wave large enough to pulverize the on the sandy bottom. One surfer got smashed hard, came up for air, but was struggling as another monster barreled down in front of him, and then another. Two lifeguards immediately went into action to grab the young man, but even then struggled to maintain their footing. The amount of water that comes rushing in is met with near-equal power of the water trying to get back out, creating a washing machine effect that would tear down the largest and strongest of men.
The crowd grew quiet as the situation became more harrowing, but two more guards went in to assist, and eventually pulled the young man to shore. Everyone cheered but then immediately turned their attention to the next big set of waves coming in, these. ones larger than the last.
I’ve lived by the beach most of my life, grew up in the water. I’ve been to the North Shore of Oahu and seen some big waves, but nothing like these monster walls that were rolling in. I felt so fortunate to be here witnessing this event, celebrating the magnificence of Mother Nature with hundreds of strangers, but my time was short, and I had to leave.
It felt like taking a wave on the head
When I got home, I had to drop my gear and immediately run out the door to pick up the kid. We came home, ate some food, and then headed out to take him to swim practice. I was smart enough to grab the SD card and computer so I could go through the shots while he swam, but then my heart sank.
The first few shots were underexposed, but not terribly and could be adjusted. However, those were test shots, not really meant for anything dynamic or interesting. Then there were the shots with my long lens, and every single one of them was desperately over exposed.

I went into this excursion with the intent to experiment with photography as I mentioned in last week’s article, and though I had been taking photos of urban signage and architecture throughout the week, and though some of these waves were as big as buildings, this landscape work was a departure. In the moment, though, the adventure was more important than sticking to the subject matter. My curiosity won out despite knowing I probably wouldn’t come away with any great photos.
I was upset by the results, but not entirely surprised. I knew the lens I was using was not the best. It takes a lot of management to get it to work well, but since the camera wasn’t operating correctly, I was shooting blind. As I went through the camera roll, found a few gems worth sharing, I made a realization.
This project isn’t about becoming a great photographer. It’s about finding my creative spark while doing things outside of my norm.
In that moment, I knew what to do with these seemingly worthless photos. Instead of bemoaning my lack of skill, I brought the images into my skillset. Opening my Affinity app, I started manipulating the colors, tweaking with filters, and applying creative cropping to come up with some artful gems.
I started slow with some color range adjustment and black and white conversion. Then I went into high contrast and started tweaking the saturation.
Then things got weird.
I took major liberties, turning the blasted-out images adding elements, and making something entirely new, but this is the whole point—go into the world with curiousity and turn what I find into art.
When I said above that curiosity is a greater teacher than failure, I meant it. The failure may have created an opportunity, but had I not had the instinct to get out of my comfort zone to go take photos of something I knew I would not do well, use a camera that didn’t work correctly, one of these would have occurred.
Had I not done this, I would have instead driven around my city, looking for some graffiti stained building with bad typography, taken a photo with my iphone, and then posted it here. I also wouldn’t have had the beach experience or the story to share, which was definitely more interesting than driving around to random dilapidated urban neighborhoods.
Now it’s your turn
I challenge you to go out, visit a place or event that you’ve thought about but never taken action on. Take a camera, a sketchbook, a notebook to write stories in, and come back with something you can share, either by itself, or turn it into something else. Don’t just do the thing, go experience the thing. Take it all in and use that experience as the catalyst for making something.
UPDATE: I’m bringing back the digital assets
In the past, I’ve shared graphics, brushes, and other digital assets with members. Starting next week, I will be delivery graphic assets once a month as part of the membership. If you’re into that, consider upgrading today.
Also, if you only want the graphics and none of the behind-the-scenes experiences, I’ll be selling them as individual packs soon, but I can promise that membership will be the much better deal. Stay tuned for that.
Cheers,
Dave











You’ve just helped me understand better what I’ve been doing in my writing but couldn’t yet articulate - being in the world and out of my comfort zone to see with fresh eyes the messy beauty around me. Great piece.
Great read Dave. I loved the black and white with the broken Costco boards. I bought a couple when we lived in Maui; I know they're styrofoam and are great for 3 foot waves. I can't imagine someone tried to take them out in those waves.
And I'm right there with you on the gas thing. It's what's keeping me from getting out and exploring more. Where I am in the far west suburbs of Phoenix, almost everything worth visiting is 45 minutes away. And I already explored the best of what's close. https://dammitdavid.substack.com/p/finding-beauty-in-the-sketchy?r=22kyyv