Jack Bober Shoots San Francisco Surf

There is an urban alpenglow that creeps into my workspace (bedroom) every evening that reminds me to wrap my things up. The soft oranges and delicate pinks bleed into my white desk and pale walls, turning my little cave into a tucked away memory of Baskin Robbins Rainbow Sherbet. It’s around this time that I check the evening cams, open some online magazines, and begin my own transition away from the cluttered numbers and graphs that litter me screen. 

For the next thirty minutes or so, my slack messages trickle to an end while my mind moves elsewhere to less pressing, but far more fulfilling, matters. It’s in the post-work haze that I wind down and graze my surf media as calmly and methodically as a buffalo munching a field of grass.

First I scan through my favorites, Surfline and Inherent Bummer, for news and interviews before picking out a creased spine of a Surfer’s Journal from my bookshelf and daydreaming of a coastal adventure somewhere across the globe. This trifecta alone is enough to keep me up to date on surfing’s past, present, and future, but, being the simple human with addiction issues that I am, I eventually come home to Instagram and begin my mindless pre-dinner scroll.

Since first moving to the Bay Area seven years ago, and ultimately San Francisco for the past two, I’ve gone down my fair share of Instagram rabbit holes pertaining to Northern California surf. The feeds of local surf shops, the Ocean Beach hashtag, the occasional mainstream shoutout… they have all introduced me to a variety of Bay Area surf photographers, capturing moments in one of the most dramatic and wave-hungry regions in the world. It’s no wonder I can’t take my eyes off of this gosh darn phone. 

In a time where everyone with an iPhone feels like a photographer, it’s harder than ever to stand out. But like a dear friend once told me, there is plenty of room at the top; it’s the bottom that’s crowded. Over the past year, Jack Bober has shown up, time and time again, in the photo credits of some of the most notable moments of every new swell. He has quickly (and rightfully) made a name of himself in one of the toughest industries in the world. Oh yeah, the kid’s also in high school. He’s seven-freaking-teen.

Bober barged into the mainstream– and I mean mainstream mainstream (not just surfing mainstream)– two weeks ago with his viral photo of the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, framed by a frosty Baker Beach tube. Even as a long time follower of his, I was a bit taken back by the shot. But, having grown accustomed to this kind of stuff from Bober, I continued through my scroll after a few well deserved moments. 

The next day I saw it featured on a friend’s IG story, and then another’s. By that afternoon, it was everywhere. I even had remote coworkers reposting the photo from across the country. 

While I respect and have grown accustomed to the occasional viral pic, clip, or story, I often find that it rarely does the creator justice. A single picture, especially on social media, is just that, a single picture. But when we sit down and look at Bober’s work as a whole, his mastery of sea-scape photography becomes painfully clear. 

Bober’s eye for diamonds in a sea of cold water closeouts is enough to make me consider paddling out on even the most ridiculous Ocean Beach days. His diverse focal points tell the same story in countless ways, making our age-old fascination with offshore barrels feel new again. It’s the kind of stuff that you doodle in the margins of your notebook as a kid, the stuff that keeps you up the night before an epic forecast. His photos are raw, they are clean, they are unruly, quirky, cold, warm, empty, crowded. They embody the surfer’s gaze and they are so, so, so San Francisco.  

Back in January, I passed by Jack on my way down the beach at Noriega Street. He was posted at the edge of the breakwall, firing shots off into the sunset. The waves were good, don’t get me wrong. It was offshore and fun sized. But it was chaotic– packed, all over the place, and frustrating. Later that evening, as I defrosted in my car before the drive home, I saw he had posted on Instagram. Somehow, Jack had managed to create some magic from the madness; a perfect left unloading behind a golden dune. 

I threw the post a quick like and began the quiet drive back to Noe Valley. 

“Where the hell was I when that thing rolled through?”

Check out Jack Bober’s website here: https://www.jackboberphoto.com/