The late Shawn “Barney” Barron was truly the clown jester of the Santa Cruz surf scene. His antics, in and out of the water were over the top, to say the least. He was an incredibly skilled surfer, with the ability to go out and charge maxing Mavericks one day, and launch massive aerial rotations on two foot waves the next. He was also extremely kind and sharp-witted—with Barney the heckles were endless. After his tragic passing in 2015, an incalculable wave of grief brought the collective Santa Cruz surf community to it’s knees, one that it’s been unable to fully recover from to this day.

One of the people closest to Barron was filmmaker Josh Pomer, who routinely shot the spastic surfer ripping waves in and around Santa Cruz with other close friends, such as Flea Virostko and Jason “Ratboy” Collins. His films, such as The Kill and Punk Rock Surfers, helped bolster the growing reputation of the extreme surfers and personalities coming out of Santa Cruz in the 90’s. This exposure contributed to big sponsorships and an increased spotlight in surfing media.

To honor his late friend, Pomer spent many years putting together a film to explore and celebrate Barron’s exciting career. Titled Particle Fever, the film was shown at the Rio Theatre last Thursday to a sold out house. In the film, Pomer took an oftentimes scattered approach to storytelling, detailing Barney’s existence in short, themed vignettes. His manic editing and storytelling could be seen as an attempt to channel Barron’s own mental health struggles, most notably his bipolar personality disorder. 

Barron’s illness was a double edged sword—it fueled his extreme highs while also contributing to his debilitating lows. It also likely powered his savant-level artistic side, one that enabled him to self-soothe and process his mental anguish, while providing him the opportunity to produce countless thoughtful works to the people closest to him. One person responsible for teaching a young Barron how to harness his talent was his high school art teacher Katie Harper, who was featured prominently in the film.

“He used it (art) as a therapy, as a playful medium, an exploration, as an adventure,” remembers Harper.

“We had a lot of fun in those days. We played around and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get super traditional stuff out of him so I just tried to guide him in his areas of strength– which was spontaneous, energetic, and colorful. His art was textural, very tactile; not too abstract like other abstract artists, but very playful. He was a playful kid. Because of that, I realized that he wasn’t going to let this go, like, “Oh I’m going to take this art class and be done with it”. I realized that he was really an artist. Truly an art spirit. A young art spirit and it was just a matter of time before he locked on and used it for his life, the way he navigated his life.”

While the film did a great job expressing the depths of Barron’s creative genius and was full of action and funny moments, it was also painful for those who knew him. Mark Taylor, one of Barron’s close childhood friends, found himself experiencing a range of emotions during the course of the film.

“There were times where I was uncomfortable, there were times where I was sad, and there were times where I was happy and just really stoked,” says the stocky surf rep turned carpenter. 

Despite the pain, he wasn’t surprised at the amount of love in the room that night, as Barron was known for being gentle and kind to all members of the local surf community, in a town where neighborhood affiliation often fostered deep animosity between competing sides of town. 

“He didn’t dance to the same song as everyone else, which allowed him to be more free-thinking and completely free,” he reflected after the credits rolled.

“What made him most special to me was that you never knew really what was comin’, and also the fact that he had such a massive heart for his friends and family, even someone he didn’t know!”

Long live Barney!