Seven years ago I was living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I had a nice car, a nice apartment, and a successful broadcasting career. I could have been set for a lifetime career. But one day I started to feel really bad at work and was taken to the hospital by ambulance to undergo immediate surgery. Two weeks later I was stuck with the same feeling in my stomach, seven surgeries and a colostomy bag in my abdomen. I spent so much time in the hospital without the capacity of eating that I lost weight and had deadly eyes from all the morphine I was receiving. After all this, the doctors fixed me up, closed my colostomy bag, and told me I could never surf again.
During all this my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He died the 12th of April 2009. So three days later I went to my bosses at Turner Broadcasting and quit my job. They’d promised more money, medical care and credit cards, but I had learned I needed to live the life I’d dreamt of as a child. I’d grown up looking at photos of Pipe or Mike Stewart’s photos of Teahupoo, so on May 11th I took my one reflex camera and a cheap lens and bought a ticket to get to Puerto Escondido. I surfed two massive swells and stayed through September. Next up I went to the North Shore, bought a van, and lived inside of that because I couldn’t afford a room to stay in. Now I was surfing Pipe and swimming with my camera every chance I had, until the next spring when it was time to move again – now it was four months in Tahiti, shooting at Teahupoo. I bought used camera equipment from other surf photographers and for the next five years I stayed on this tour, mixing in California, Mexicio, Africa, Chile and back to it again. My equipment got better over the years and now and then my photos would be used in magazines. Sometimes my footage would end up on television networks. I had gone from working for Turner Broadcasting to selling footage to them.
When I returned home to Argentina I made a clip for Volcom and one of their Argentinean riders. They had learned about my story and offered to start helping me with clothing, offering me jobs, and ultimately supporting me in my new career. They’ve opened up the Volcom House and made me a part of the Volcom family. Through them I’ve worked with surfers like Gavin Beschen, Kai Mana Henry, Carlos “Cali” Munoz, and tons more. The ocean had saved me from attachment to a career I didn’t love. I learned everything in life goes so fast, and everybody can be a prostitute of time. There’s nothing worse than that letting time pass in front of your eyes. Nothing is more sad than letting your dreams be stolen – growing old, wishing you made different choices. But you never have to say “it’s too late.”
Icons / Gabin Beschen “surf for the love” from Juan Bacagianis on Vimeo.
