The Making Of Gwynnik

This is the third film that Seth and Mike have made together, an unintentional trilogy, bound by the theme of belonging, and following in the footsteps of the youthful vibes of Cynevin and the surf-trip based 'Hireth'. “What draws me to making films with Mike is that he’s on his own path of becoming more rooted in one place and Gwynnik sits inside that shift," says Seth. "It’s about staying put, paying attention, and allowing a life – and the craft of waving – to be shaped by one stretch of coastline rather than the chase for something elsewhere.”

Gwynnik, a name that Seth settled upon through accident not intention, is anchored on the 50th parallel, the shared latitude of Cornwall and Brittany, in whose waves the film was made. “I typed “Gwinnick” because I liked the shape of the word,” recounts Seth. “But after a bit of research on Breton I discovered it translated to “little fair one". A Cornish-speaking friend then offered up the correct Cornish spelling, and the title Gwynnik was born. “It felt like the perfect nod to Mike’s two blond-haired kids, and also to Gwynver, the beach he spends a lot of time at,” chimes Seth…

The film opens with a guls-eye view of Mike, weaving across the sands of his home break and then out into empty lumps of Atlantic swell. Like the rise and fall of Mike’s board on open faces, the story carves between Cornish juice and his life at home, with his children. “There is a version of me which is Mike Lay the surfer – Mike Lay the surfer surfs, he travels, he writes about surfing, he competes in surfing. Mike Lay the surfer is a very important part of the overall person who is Mike Lay, but he isn't all of me, indeed he has been taking a bit of a back seat over the past couple of years because of parenting.”  

This ebb and flow are accompanied by soundscape of the Cornish troubadour Finnegan Tui – part melancholic, sometimes upbeat but always conjuring an impressing of Cornwall and Mike’s belonging there in. “I think, if nothing else, that the viewer is treated to a visually and sonically beautiful few minutes,” says Mike. “Seth is masterful at film making and Finnegan Tui is equally as talented a musician. I am so lucky to have my surfing showcased by them both.”

Fear not, for the Jonesing among you, although Seth describes Gwynnik as “a slower, more inward-facing film, rooted in belonging and being at home rather than progression,” there is no shortage of effortless deck work by Mike to generate an gut-churning froth – he fades, cuts back, sidesteps, hangs 5 and even tucks into the odd barrel on waves that range from thigh high to well over head.  

“Being a parent and learning to live in greater harmony with the land has been a deeply rewarding experience,” explains Mike of Gwynnik. “It has served to re-frame my relationship with surfing in a positive way and I now revel in the joy and fun of surfing and relish my opportunities to surf as they are more fleeting than they once were – mind you, I still catch my fair share of waves.”

It takes time and space to realise that that which is under your feet can be as fresh and fulfilling as the unknown. “I hope the audience see a person surrounded by love, love of family and love of his home and love of the sea.”

So, pour yourself a dram of your preferred poison and and settle down for a soothing cruise through parenting and pulling into wet Cornish transitions. “I hope this film makes people want to go surfing,” says Seth in closing. “Not to improve, or win, or travel far. But to surf on a normal day at home.”