Block

Steve Olson: Where does the name “Block” come from?
Block: I got a big head. Everyone thinks I’m Samoan.
SO: And where did you grow up?
B: I grew up in Venice.
SO: Original Venice.
B: Original Venice, man. Went to Westminster Elementary, Mark Twain Junior High, then I went to Venice High School. After high school I went off to CalArts for photography.
SO: What was it like growing up in Venice?
B: It was a lot different than it is now. Most of the families were either on welfare or in poverty. I was born in ’66. So, say, ’76 was still pretty broken down and cheap. It’s gentrified now. But growing up in Venice, I never really realized how poor we were. You went to school, and after school you had your basic little bicycle, you had a skateboard, and you went to the beach. You played in the sand and the water all day. That was our backyard, and that was good enough for us.
SO: Did you start surfing young?
Or skating?
B: I started surfing around ninth grade. I grew up with Solo [Scott] and a lot of the local guys down there, and we used to see [Allen] Sarlo surfing at
the Breakwater.

We were always on boogie boards. Jay Adams was the one that was hitting us up. Jay was like, “When are you guys gonna stop boogie boarding and start surfing? Take my board! Go in the water!” And then it became surfing for real. Then you learn the whole surf lifestyle. I didn’t grow up with surfing parents or anyone else in my family that surfed.
SO: But did your older brother surf?
B: Yeah, but I turned him onto surfing.


SO: Who started the MSA?
B: MSA was the Mexican Surf and Skate Association. Back then there wasn’t a lot of Mexican surfers. Surfer magazine isn’t successful for showing brown-eyed, brown-haired people. I remember there was an article in the magazine for the Black Surfing Association. Solo [Scott] and Craig Little and a couple of other people that we knew from the west side were in the interview. All our friends by then were surfing, so in the Venice Breakwater there was probably a good six...seven Mexicans, or more. I remember being out in the water one day, and Steve Shelp, who’s a photographer, was like, “I don’t see no BSA out in the water; I see a bunch of Mexicans! This looks like the damn MSA!” And we were like, “We should start the Mexican Surf and Skate Association.”

We kept it 13 members only. We would have meetings every week and everybody would pay their fees and we’d put that money together and throw events. It gave us something to do and it gave the Latinos pride, like you can be a surfer in California and not have to say that you’re “Whitewash.” We all spoke Spanish and we all still had our Mexican culture. None of us were gang members. We weren’t about that. I was into other things. I was into drama class and art—
SO: You were into drama class? Oh, dude. You have to tell me. I love that.
B: I did all of the plays in my junior high. We did Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I played Augustus Gloop, and I was hilarious.

I was doing alright, and then my mom passed away in the eighth grade. When she passed away the family home broke up and it was like “on your own” time. I think I got straight fails that year, and they still passed me into the ninth grade. And then that’s when I was dealing with, “What the hell am I gonna do?” Lucky enough, I felt like I was born with a good head on my shoulders.
SO: Were you tight with your mom?
B: Not at all. Never had a conversation with her, really. She was a single mom. She was just a provider. “There’s food on the table. Eat, get out of my face.” Later on as an adult I tried to understand the issues that she had. My older brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles were all like, “Your mom went through a lot of shit.” And I’m like, “OK, now I get it.”

SO: When did you get your first camera?
B: I picked up a camera in ninth grade, and then 12th grade—
SO: What kind of camera?
B: A Canon AE-1. My brother and his friends I guess burglarized some place and had a bunch of cameras. I said, “Let me get this camera,” and he’s like, “Yeah, if you shoot pictures of me and my homies.” So I started shooting pictures of them. By the time I graduated high school I had five periods of photography.

I remember going to the beach to do most of my assignments. And then 15 years later I was doing it for a paycheck, shooting photography on the beach with artists. I shot a Kid Frost album down there and I got paid $5,000. I was thinking how cool it was, ’cause it was the same shit I was doing when I was 15…16 in high school.

I remember being like, I wanna do photography ’cause I like it. It makes other people dig you, and you get applause and pats on the back for it. But selling it, when you’re getting money for things, it takes a lot of the fun out of it because it becomes so serious about budgets. Someone gives you $20,000 to go shoot, you better give them what they like, or now they’re gonna talk shit about you because you fucked off their money. And with photography, it’s just a matter of opinion. And as an artist, you gotta accept criticism.
SO: But to look back and think, Whoa. I get paid.
B: “I’ve been paid,” I could say. I wouldn’t say, “I get paid.” [Laughs]
SO: You could say, “You could get paid.” [Laughs]
B: Yeah. “I could get paid a lot more.”
SO: Like I never thought as a kid, that in the tenth grade I would be driving a car more expensive than my teacher’s, from skateboarding.


B: Then the photography thing, with me, led into directing and other things.
SO: How did that happen?
B: Paul Stewart had taken the photography class and was a grade ahead of me. He was getting into music. He was staying I think with DJ Muggs and Skatemaster Tate, and I ran into him again and he said he had a band called The Pharcyde. He was like, “Why don’t you come and shoot these photos for me. I need photos of the band for this album.” So I hit it off with them. We were hanging out, we’re all smoking weed. It was ’93…’92. They were at the studio and I was like, “Come out in the alley and shoot some photos.” And there was a mirror—you know those round mirrors that you see in garages? I ripped the mirror off and I put it on the ground and told the guys, “Look into the mirror and I’m gonna shoot into the mirror.” And they’re like, “…What’s that?” I’m like, “The Pharcyde, to me, is the reflection, like, ‘What’s on that side of the mirror?’ That’s the Pharcyde. You guys are taking us there. We’re going on this bizarre ride with you guys through your music.” And they were like, “Love it!” [Laughs] It’s fucking concepts that make sense, bro. Not just images because you have some famous people, or you’re shooting a beautiful face in a car. That doesn’t do nothing for me. That’s elementary.

But it started at an early age, man. Telling people what to do and being  that directive type of character. I was always the kid that was like, “Let’s go steal the wood and build a ramp! We’re all gonna meet at my house.” There were no parents at my house, so we could all do whatever the fuck we wanted.
SO: The orchestrator.
B: The Pharcyde asked me to do a music video for them. They’re like, “We got a $100,000 budget.” I never had a hundred grand to spend on nothin’. I’m like, “What am I gonna do?”…“Start writing it!” So we got horses, and we had Hummers, and we had a mansion. “Runnin’” was talking about Black people being scared of their success. That was my first music video. So things matured as they went on.

SO: How is it to look back? You traveled—skating, surfing, and shooting photos—around the world, made documentaries, you make music videos, shoot album covers, all of that.
B: And I run a skateboard shop and a clothing company.
SO: [Laughs] Oh, I forgot.
B: Yeah, we’re trying to do a brand now.
SO: Oh you’re branding?
B: Yeah, we’re branding! We learned from people like you guys.