Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25037
Klein Baai, September 1997-Late on the second night of the shark expe dition, Oily and Suzi pray the storm will pass. The entourage eats in the ironically named restaurant, C'est La Vie. Around midnight, Rodd Mann who claims to be an MTV producer although their New York offices say they have no idea who he is-enters. "I wanted you to model an MTV shirt," he says while eyeing Oily, "but judging from your size, your very girth, that won't be possible." After proceeding to insult everyone, Mann leaves. Why would people who take themselves seriously as painters invite someone who's supposedly from MTV to invade their artistic nirvana? I turn to them with raised eyebrows. Do the pair merely create for the fame and money? Not at all, says Suzi: "We paint endangered wild animals to spread the word. To be honest, we've only gotten recognition in the last year or so. Most of what we make from the art goes back to helping animals in jeopardy. The art's primitive. It raises many questions. It makes you think." Sharks don't care about ecology or fame or money or art. They care about eating and, at 8AM the following morning, in goes the chum. "It's a shark frenzy!" yells Craig Ferreira, oozing emotion like a 10-year-old at Disney World for the first time. There are four or five great whites seeking the chum and turkey-size pieces of whale blubber baited on Caribna hooks. Suddenly, Ferreira moves to the edge of the boat and ... unzips his pants. "Suck me, baby," he cries, while peeing a golden arc into the ocean. If the sharks were in a frenzy before, they're now going wild. Ferreira laughs. Sharks apparently love urine the way teens love Hanson. Nearby, Suzi isn't that excited. "I simply hate the water," she says. "I've always feared it." The pair recently practiced diving in more inviting waters off Malta. "I'm very proud of the way she dove," says Oily. "She embraced her fears." But the water still gives Suzi nightmares. She could n't sleep the night before. Neither could Oily-it's sharks, after all. Worse, it's the myth: capture, chomping and death by serrated, super sharp teeth. It's everything you've ever feared about falling from the top of the food chain. Down below, the pair float in their cage, waiting in the bone chill ing water. The sharks have disappeared. Suzi begins to freeze. Oily pulls her near and holds her so that his body warmth penetrates her wetsuit. Minutes pass. Then, like a prehistoric wraith, it's Jaws-the Benchley/Spielberg kind-trying to bite the cage. Suzi jerks back into Oily. The shark is a mammoth monolith, almost 20 feet long. As Oily and Suzi paint underwater, their art supplies not holding up as well as expected, the shark chews bait from the hook and pulls the cage and the boat-anchor and all-toward Dyer Island for what seems like endless minutes. On the surface, Louw pulls hard, too, taking in the slack on the line so precisely that the mother of all sharks' mouth is less than two feet from me and inches from Louw's hand. It attacks the blubber beautifully. There is grace here: silent movement that's like Baryshnikov in its glorious, effortless proportions. Then, when the shark finds it has been fooled by a hook, it pulls with intense anger. After a splash as loud as the crack of an M-80, it passes ghostly into the grievous deep blue merging of the Atlantic and Indian oceans. When Louw pulls in the hook, the salty captain who's seen it all is amazed. The Caribna hook-that same steel hook that's used to pull and even lift Range Rovers-is bent miserably. Down below Oily and Suzi run out of air and motion frantically for the crew to pull in the cage. Once they're on board Louw and Ferriera make good-natured fun of their painting while they hook, chum and loft it into the ocean. A shark takes a chomp out of the lower right corner. Were they frightened? Says Oily, "Gus D'Amato, Mike Tyson's one-time coach, said fear should be treated like fire. It's a good thing. It keeps you warm. It can also burn the house down. We use our fear."