The magic of Clark Little's vision happens at nine frames per second. In the time it takes to twitch, the North Shore surf photographer opens a door to a hidden world of evanescent beauty.

Then the violence arrives to close it.

With a Nikon camera sealed in a waterproof housing and tethered to his wrist, Little journeys into punishing shorebreak waves to capture inside-out perspectives that ordinarily go unnoticed.

Inside these collapsing waves, suspended for an instant, he found glass-like walls of scalloped water, barrels of shadow and foaming textures that dot the water like meringues. They are the snowflakes of the ocean, no two ever alike.

But the real magic here — the miracle? — is that Little started photographing shorebreak only three years ago. In that short time the former city horticulturalist has become an artist with an international reputation.

He's sold thousands of photographs — online and through galleries for $50 to $4,000 — and he's frequently hired to give slideshows of his work at galleries, museums, conventions and community events. This summer, organizers hosted him in 13 locations, including Brazil, Canada, Japan and California.

This month, the 40-year-old Little published "The Shorebreak Art of Clark Little," a 100-photograph collection of his best work. The book includes forwards by musician Jack Johnson and pro surfer Kelly Slater; 1 percent of sales goes to both the Kelly Slater Foundation and Johnson's Kokua Hawaii Foundation.

Little relishes his up-close encounters with the surf.

"I'm looking for a beautiful sunrise or sunset and getting right into the barrels," he said. "A lot of it is playing in the ocean. I want to be there. I don't want to be on my butt on a stool with a telephoto lens. I want to be tossing around in the mix of it."

FAMILIAR WAVES

Thanks to the Internet, Little has tapped into a world market: Turkey, Australia, Switzerland, France, Germany and, of course, the United States.

Many buyers say the same thing about his photos, no matter what wave is in an image.

"All over the world, people say they were in Hawaii and swear they saw that same wave ... that same look ... that same view," he said. "It gives them a little serenity or peace."

Little likes to tell the story of how all this began. In December 2006, his wife, Sandy, wanted a photograph of the ocean for their Pupukea home.

So Little took a cheap camera into shorebreak waves he had surfed for years — he grew up on the North Shore — and discovered a view he had never noticed. Moved by what he saw, Little bought $4,000 worth of equipment and dove in.

Nine months later he held his first gallery show, and pretty soon, everyone wanted his view from the tube.

When Little displayed his work at Chinatown Boardroom art gallery, a reviewer said his photographs revealed the beauty that hides inside a split second.

Little found himself on network television as talk show hosts dressed in suits ogled shots by the T-shirt-wearing photographer.

"It gives me chicken-skin to talk about it," Little said.

At the time this began, Little was the supervisor at the Wahiawä Botanical Gardens, a good job with regular hours, holidays off and health benefits for his wife and two young children.

But things were going well enough that in fall 2008, he quit his city job after 17 years of service in order to take photographs full time.

"I was getting stretched thin — family, city job, photography," he said. "Thank the Lord it has worked out."

NO TRAINING

Little has no formal photography training, despite the fact that his father Jim taught photography at the high school and college level for 37 years.

"We're amazed," said Jim Little, who retired in 2000 and at 72 spends much of his time growing and selling plumeria. "I didn't take his hand and say, 'Clark, do this.' He saw a lot of photographs, naturally, when he was growing up. He was around my dark room."

His son isn't following accepted rules of composition but it hasn't affected the quality of his photographs, said the elder Little, who is especially fond of his son's use of light.

"Light is just breaking out of Clark's pictures like I have never seen before," he said.

He's concluded that photography is his son's true calling.

"He loves it so much that he can't get enough of it," he said. "I see that in the pictures. Right now he can't stop. It is exciting."

There's a bit of irony in that, explained his mother, Doric Little.

"Every morning that the sun is out, he is in the water," she said. "Every evening, too. Of course his wife is not thrilled. Well, she is thrilled with the effect, but she misses his company."

Until his success, Clark Little was probably better known as a former professional surfer and the younger brother of big wave rider Brock Little. He had surfed the North Shore since he was a boy but unlike Brock, he had carved an unusual niche by surfing almost unridable shorebreak waves at places that included Waimea Bay.

The daredevil practice, in waves strong enough to snap bone, was the perfect training for his new career.

"It's a lot of water that breaks right on the shore," he said.

"All this water has nowhere to go except, boom, onto the shore. It's beautiful. The clarity of the water is gorgeous. And the power, is like thunder."

The surge will push him 30 to 50 feet up the beach, a human piece of shore trash, eyes closed and his finger squeezing the camera trigger.

But to see into a wave — to see into its heart — can be risky business.

Last year, at his favorite spot, Ke Iki beach, he was dragged from the shallows and into a series of 12-foot waves that held him underwater, then spit him onto the beach, gasping for air and bordering on panic.

"It's something that most photographers don't want to put themselves into," he said. "I'm a fanatic. I want to go in there. I love the view."