Aspen – Unlike some skiers I know, Greg Stump’s “Blizzard of Aahhhs” did not change my life anymore than the Broadway musical “Cats.”
Just as I’ve never dreamed of bursting into song donning whiskers and roller skates, I’ve never aspired to a life as a full-time camera model, either on skis or off. Photogenic shortcomings aside, I ride snow to neither show nor prove.
Still, for all I remember, the 1988 Stump-directed classic may have been the first ski film I’d seen. I certainly recall Scot Schmidt and Glen Plake being among the first to live up to the “extreme skiing” description that emerged shortly thereafter. But my green eye of nearly 20 years ago could discern little more than a patchwork yellow North Face suit and a towering mohawk skiing otherwise unfathomable peaks on a video in the corner of the room. Whether the images were captured by a guy named Stump or Miller or Scorsese never registered at the time.
Perhaps a greater life-change occurred last weekend, when I met the so-called ski film genius at the second annual installment of “The Meeting” in Aspen. And while I try not to make a habit of conducting interviews at the bar, the ensuing histrionics helped me through the embarrassment of not initially recognizing the disheveled, late-40s filmmaker I’d awkwardly encountered on the street only a few hours earlier. More than “Blizzard,” “Groove Requiem” and “Fistful of Moguls” combined, his little barroom tantrum helped me put some things in perspective.
The underlying purpose of “The Meeting” is to bring ski and snowboard industry professionals together in an early-season film festival that doubles as a roundtable discussion. Directors, producers, athletes, sponsors, publishers and other industry “insiders” share notes maintaining and sustaining the image of modern snowsports, primarily through the movie medium.
Event coordinator David Perry of the Aspen Skiing Company described it as “more of a tribal gathering” of those responsible for creating the “mythology” and “future” of skiing and snowboarding. Personally, I hold the activities and associated lifestyle to a higher ideal.
There are some cultures – tribes, if you will – that believe having your photograph taken actually steals a piece of your soul. If we are to accept that soul-sucking postulate as remotely plausible, then perhaps it would be wise to reconsider our modern era of womb-to-tomb photography and the ego-based industry of reality entertainment it has spawned. In the unquenchable thirst to act out life on camera, true soul may never have a chance to develop. Or the bit we’re born with is simply sucked dry.
The camera is an amazing tool, with the power to record history and entertainment. But it is important to remember that it creates neither. Creativity is born of ideas and style, and the future of something as soulful as skiing and snowboarding demands more than the half-hearted annual attempt to capture images of yourself sliding rails, hucking cliffs and drinking vodka in the hot tub. Those entrusted with the myth-making would do well to keep that in mind.
The sensation of riding a snow-capped mountain may be as difficult to replicate as floating through outer space. And while I firmly believe the movie medium must aspire to inspire, I’m convinced that it’s equally important to turn off the camera – or the television or iPod – and simply savor the elements that draw us to the activity at their essence. That is where the truly life-altering moments occur – live and uninterrupted.
Legends are not created on a whim, and heroes – in any aspect of life – should be chosen with thoughtful consideration. Otherwise you may wind up at the bar wondering whether your tribe was ever really sincere in its search, or is merely a group of individuals attempting to promote themselves in an egocentric array of mad steeze and dysfunctional soul.
Scott Willoughby can be reached at 303-954-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
