By M. Sellers Johnson.
Taylor’s journey [involved] shaping the surfboards, and how he took them around the world to learn from others about what they were doing in their communities to protect the ocean….”
—Ben Judkins
As the life-support system of the planet, the ocean holds not only an integral place in the Earth’s ecosystem, but also a spiritual tenor in nature and humanity. Such sentiments find a fitting place in the following documentary, which takes a novel, funky notion of upcycling and filters it through a wider discourse on environmental integrity, coastal sports, and cultural reciprocity. Traveling across oceans to visit current and former surfers in Ireland, Hawai’i, South Africa, and Fiji, and even the U.K., the eponymous “Cigarette Surfboard” becomes a buoyant platform for thoughtful testimonies, reflections on surfing culture, and personal engagement with oceanscapes and humanity.
Ben Judkins’ buoyant and reflective documentary, The Cigarette Surfboard, follows industrial designer and surfer Taylor Lane as he crafts numerous drafts of cigarette-framed surfboards, not only as art pieces but as functional riding boards. Lane’s journey takes him from grassroots beach cleanups in his local city of Santa Cruz—along with early publicity and praise with his inaugural “ciggy board”—to beaches across the globe with professional and retired surfers, who work in equal measures as farmers, scientists, and educators. First tracing impressionable Old Hollywood film cultures of chain-smoking and casual flicking of cigarette butts, Judkins and Lane design their upcycled prototype, before taking to the road and seas to showcase a series of intriguing and cheeky surfboards. Drawing from an international community, surfers like Easkey Britton, Cliff Kapono, and Fergal Smith bring thoughtful perspectives on relating not only native and Indigenous experience with surfing and one’s environment, but also crucial scientific input.
Through different iterations of big-wave, longboard, and other ample board types, Lane’s various ciggy boards cross many oceans before making their way back to Santa Cruz, where the documentary then concludes with Lane’s appeal to his local city council for petitioning a ban on single-use filtered cigarettes (a first-in-the-nation ordinance approved for early 2027), as well as a final trial run of an unridden ciggy longboard at Mavericks Beach. Continued efforts through policy pressure, international interviews, and environmental action not only encourage positive community bonding within the global surfing community, but also greater environmental stewardship. By all means, enjoy your smoke if you prefer (coming from a former smoker, here), but please be ever-vigilant and mindful of what you leave behind. Because everything runs downstream, from cultural mindsets, impressionable habits, and discarded butts.
It’s interesting how both cigarettes and surfing have prominent film cultures. In different ways, there’s a sense of coolness or cavalier-ness inherent in both smoking and surfing. How did the confluence of these subjects inspire you to begin this documentary journey?
Initially, having these two very disparate things—the flick of a cigarette and the beauty of surfing—created this juxtaposition that just really stood out to me, and stood out to Taylor [Lane] as he built that first ciggy board and started talking to folks about the problem of cigarette butts on the beaches, and how that’s such a contradiction to the soul of surfing. But as you said, it’s funny because over the years and decades, surf films have had this iconic role in the space of sports films. The Endless Summer (Bruce Brown, 1966), for example, is a classic sub-culture sport film that came to prominence when surfing was gaining a stronghold in California and across the world. Putting it on the map in this new way.
So, The Cigarette Surfboard became a way of challenging this longstanding motif in cinema (and in culture itself) of people flicking their butts, and that being this cool thing to do. I was fascinated with how that had been cemented in film culture for the past 80-90 years. It felt like a really cool way to bring this issue to light that does have a strong foothold in the culture of film. Taking these two things and blending them together creates a great starting point to explore the relationship we have as humans and as surfers with the planet.
It’s not what you normally think about with smoking in film. The last thing you’d be connecting the dots with is surfing. So, with smoking and its long history with film, we’re hoping to bridge the gap, even though there’s such a natural contrast between the two. This allows us in the film to take a little dive into that history of the flick of the cigarette. I feel like that could have been a much longer chapter, in a different film, but I’m glad that we got to have a brief riff on the flick of a cigarette, where it came from, and how cinema has been a key part of cementing that in our culture, even outside of cinema.
So, Taylor Lane is an industrial designer, by trade, and had only designed two surfboards prior to this project?
He had only shaped a couple of backyard surfboards prior to this project. The Cigarette Surfboard was born out of a contest that prompted people to build an article of surfcraft out of upcycled material. Taylor, as an incredibly creative person, an industrial designer by trade, and a passionate surfer, saw this as an opportunity to take all of those skill sets and shape the first Cigarette Surfboard. And the first draft wasn’t the best or most functional surfboard shape (it was very heavy, compared to subsequent boards), but eventually he found a way to make them a lot more functional, a lot lighter. The art of them actually grew over time, as well. Then he started working with professional shapers, who came in to share their expertise and help with the crafting of the foam, so that Taylor could focus on the cigarette artwork that goes on the top and bottom of the surfboards.
There was definitely a trial-and-error period with the boards, right? To make sure that they didn’t leak or (God forbid) disperse back into the water?
The first time that the ciggy board went out in the ocean, it started taking on water. As it filled, it looked like a sort of Titanic situation, where it was compartmentalized by the wooden frame that had several different sections. Only one or two of those compartments actually flooded with water, so actually having that compartment system saved the whole board from getting waterlogged. We had to learn from those initial mistakes and material designs, going back to dry out the surfboard, the cigarettes, and taking it out into the water for a second time.
Taylor’s journey shaping the surfboards, and how he took them around the world to learn from others about what they were doing in their communities to protect the ocean, had almost an “on-the-fly” approach. You know, he wasn’t a trained environmentalist or activist; we kind of just said yes to a lot of these things that came our way. It was the same with the film. We tried quite a lot of different things, and filmed a lot of footage. In the end, you do your best to weave together a story from over five years of filming. Bringing together a lot of the footage into a cohesive narrative that holds people’s attention for 90 minutes.
It became this kind of vessel for sharing the stories of what professional surfers and ocean activists are doing around the world, in their multifaceted ways, to protect the ocean. It was this connective thread between these participants in the documentary.”
After winning the upcycled surfboard contest, Lane had a burst of PR and news attention. But this then oriented towards different efforts in re-designing the boards to be more functional for surfers.
Taylor built that first ciggy board for the 2017 Creator’s Contest, which was hosted by Surfrider Foundation. When he won that contest, we had an interview with the Orange County Register that night, and then the next day or two, that story got picked up by the Associated Press. Going from OC to then across the country, and before we knew it, Steve Inskeep was talking about it on NPR; NBC, ABC, and PBS were all covering it. Then later, The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. Almost overnight, it gained this virality. I think that people were really attracted to this idea of a surfboard built from cigarette butts, all picked up off of the beach. Around that time, Taylor realized that beyond just making that one surfboard for this contest, there had been so many conversations circulating at the different beach cleanups with people who were enthralled with this idea. This opened up conversations about not only the problem of butt litter but about what people could do, or what was already happening. And also, our role as surfers to lead the charge in protecting our beaches’ coastline and ocean.
So, he realized that to get further out into the world, having more surfboards of different sizes and shapes that were more functional would ultimately further the reach of the message. It could also allow him to get some professional surfers to ride the boards. He became so committed to it. He wanted to improve upon the prototype board and his craft, while simultaneously using those improved ciggy boards as a way to have professional surfers ride the boards and be a platform for them to also talk about ocean activism and environmental stewardship. More specifically, they connected him with this incredible cast of surfers from around the world who were really doing something important with their platform and within their community to give back to the ocean. And so, it became this kind of vessel for sharing the stories of what professional surfers and ocean activists are doing around the world, in their multifaceted ways, to protect the ocean. It was this connective thread between these participants in the documentary.
So, the project is really just a novel way to open up a dialogue about surfing, environmental stewardship, and surfers’ relationships with the ocean? The project itself as a conduit for those conversations?
Having a physical, tangible vessel, such as the ciggy board, makes such a visceral statement, so you understand immediately what is happening when you see it. It’s a really good icebreaker for having conversations with people. You have this art-object—this functional art-surfboard—that tells a brilliant story about how all of our small actions really add up, whether negative or positive. However folks ended up connecting with the ciggy board opened up doors to talk with some really amazing people, inspiring Taylor’s journey and that of the ciggy board. This eventually led him to use the board to help influence policy in California.
That’s right, Santa Cruz is approving the petition to ban single-use filtered cigarettes soon. They’re supposedly the first-in-the-nation to do so?
The County of Santa Cruz was the first jurisdiction in the nation to pass a policy to ban the sale of cigarette filters. That means cigarettes that have that classic filter on the tip. The City of Santa Cruz then followed the County’s lead; then the City of Capitola (within Santa Cruz County) was the third jurisdiction to follow. Those three together begin in 2027. Two of those ordinances go into effect January 1st, 2027, and then the one in Capitola takes effect next July. The ciggy board had joined a movement that was already happening in Santa Cruz, where local organizations like the Tobacco Education Coalition, Save Our Shores, and Surfrider Foundation (among others) were pushing for their elected officials to draft and pass a policy that would ban the sale of single-use cigarette filters. Which is, in effect, stopping the problem at the source. We can keep doing beach cleanups forever…it’s the most littered item on beaches across the country and in the world. But that’s not going to solve the problem. What we can provide is kind of an upstream approach and policy preventing these things from ever being sold in the first place. Something that tackles that problem at the source.
With this movement already happening in Santa Cruz, after Taylor took the ciggy boards around the world with all of these incredible people, he was inspired to return home and started working with those local groups to take the lead with this policy initiative. The surfboards served as this great visual symbol that Taylor and other local surfers could take into city council meetings. We had the power of local community coming together around a single issue, and the ciggy board was that unifying thread within the surf community. Also, we were collectively working with the local nonprofit community and organizations that had already been working on this for years, and I think that pushed the needle into getting these policies passed. Like a plastic bag ban, a Styrofoam ban, or a straw ban, these initiatives first happen in small towns or counties before spreading into statewide policy. That domino effect is, hopefully, about to unfold.
Speaking of surfing and documentarians, you have Jack Johnson as a major subject in the documentary. Did you face any challenges in reaching out to these popular figures in the surfing world?
Having this physical board opened a lot of doors and provided an in, and the more we put ourselves out there, the more we said yes to a lot of things. The more surfers that did get involved, the more that it continued to open the floodgates, and people were validating what we stood by and what others believed in. Of all the people that are featured in the film, it wasn’t hard at all to get them involved in the project. They wanted to be a part of it, and were excited to join in and share their stories as a part of the film.
With Jack Johnson, we met him at a marine debris conference in 2018 in San Diego. We just approached him, and Taylor said that he had built a surfboard from cigarette butts off of the beach. And Jack, being the incredible human that he is, said, “That’s so cool! I would love to ride one of those. You guys should come out to Hawai’i.” Flash forward a year, we made that happen. And Jack is such an epic human in the space of film and surf filmmaking (so, a big inspiration for me); his music is incredible, and he’s a great environmentalist using his platform to speak out on ocean issues and other environmental issues. We really admired this, and all of the folks that ended up in the final cut of the film were people that we looked up to in the surfing world. People that we were inspired by and wanted to have them be a part of this collection of micro-stories that fit in the web of “What is the Cigarette Surfboard?” We were honored and privileged to connect with people like Jack Johnson, Cliff Kapono, Easkey Britton, and all of these incredible people in the film who really inspired this journey and gave it fuel. And also gave Taylor the inspiration and tools to look at what he created with the Cigarette Surfboard and the ways he used those boards to make tangible changes in the community.
We truly became friends with these people and spent a lot of time with folks, which I think is inherent in documentary filmmaking. You have the time to really connect with people, and hopefully do that before the cameras are rolling, so you can build that relationship and trust. We really had time with people like Fergal [Smith] to spend a week or so on his farm, work there, and get to know his community and family; and then pull the cameras out. I think there’s a reciprocity in that exchange. It serves the film well, and it feels good to be reciprocal with folks who are giving us their time and knowledge. Trusting us to tell their story as part of the film. What a cool thing to get to hang out with people like Fergal! Outside of the surfing world, people often don’t think of Ireland as a prime surfing location. It’s certainly a challenging place to be a surfer. It’s cold, it can be windy, stormy, all of those things, but there are some really great waves if you know where to look.
This was a little bit of our mission, too, to look at the surfing world and ask, “What does it mean to be a surfer today?” “How can we use this film as a way to highlight this side of surfing that isn’t always seen in mainstream media?” To use the ciggy boards to bring out stories and highlight positive things within the ocean space. To highlight people who are using their platform and their time for something that matters for the health of all people and the planet. It becomes this global story and call to action, even though all of the cigarette butts came from California and Hawai’i beaches. The surf community has a bit of an obligation to be the ones who stand up and speak out for the ocean that has no voice.
The ciggy surfboard(s) traveled all across the world as a way to share international stories and perspectives. How has it been touring the film these past couple of years? I know that we initially met a few years back in Wilmington, NC, at the Cucalorus Film Festival.
It’s been an absolute joy to screen the film for so many audiences in so many different settings across the country and internationally. We had a pretty extensive festival run, with about 60 screenings. This also helped us to start designing community screening tours and educational screening tours, so I’ve spent the better part of the last two years, with a couple of the ciggy boards, going to community screenings. Some of which were held in the backyards of breweries, a small pub in Ireland, and other community/thirds spaces, to proper venues and even IMAX theaters. All across the board. We went to some high schools and middle schools, but then also into a lot of universities such as UC San Diego, UCLA, the University of Rhode Island, the University of New Hampshire, and the University of Georgia. Going around the country, I probably attended close to 90 screenings over the past two and a half years. Having a couple of physical ciggy boards at those screenings is great for speaking with audiences to hear their stories and reflections on the film.
It’s been a really beautiful thing to have this be such a community-oriented project. To gauge how audiences are connecting with it or what conversations it might be starting. Spreading the message that we as surfers and we as ocean people that live by the coast can be the ones that stand by and do something. Hopefully, it gives people that bit of hope during a time when there are quite a lot of things to be dismayed about.
We’ve done about 50 educational screenings, 30 community screenings, and a number of festival visits. Doing a lot of educational screenings, they’re some of my favorite events, because the 18-25 range of people at community colleges and universities seems to really resonate with the film. They can laugh, listen to some great music, see some great surfing, and still receive that environmental message throughout, without being hit over the head with it. Students seem excited to see a film that gives them hope for the planet and one that highlights positive stories that are happening in the world.
At the end of the day, it’s a film that’s inspiring, hopeful, and gives a pretty clear call to action. We want people to walk away feeling fired up about doing something in their community, or in their personal life. With Taylor, he wasn’t this person coming in with a huge background in environmental activism. He was an industrial design college graduate who was passionate, skilled, and cared deeply about the ocean. As a surfer, he just rode the wave (no pun intended) that the ciggy board provided. So, it’s been a true joy to take the films and the surfboards around the world these past couple of years. And now it’s available on Eventive.org for folks to enjoy at home and with friends in their free time.
M. Sellers Johnson is an independent scholar and editor whose research interests include French art cinema, transnationalism, historiography, and aesthetics. He received his MA from Te Herenga Waka (Victoria University of Wellington) in 2021 and his BA at the University of North Carolina Wilmington in 2018. His work has appeared in Afterimage, Film International, Film Quarterly, Media Peripheries, Mise-en-scène, Offscreen, and sabah ülkesi, among other outlets. He is the founding Citation Ethics Editor for Film Matters, and the current Book Reviews Editor for New Review of Film and Television Studies.