Here we go again, right?
Same tricks, same spots, same everything.
Why do we feel the need to catalog, appraise, and then revisit? Is there some inherent greatness in every hubba that’s been heel-drag noseslid? Are slick ledges so few and far between that grocery-listing the activity surrounding them is the only thing left to do? Is that pool cope so epic that it really needs to be slashed again and again?
More now than ever before, we need a Jason Lee frontside ollie in the L.A. wilderness. Who’s holding? Photo: Tobin Yelland
I mean, what happened? When did it become necessary to watch each other so closely that watching each other closely became part of skateboarding’s drive?
Well, nothing happened, really. Skateboarding got better. It got bigger, too. Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it. More people do it now than have ever done it before. But if you’re like Leonard Nimoy, in search of some tipping point, some catalytic event, or some turned corner, you’re probably not going to find anything.
Al Davis Roofing Service: No leaks; just peaks. Photo: Sam McGuire
And while our obsessive drafting behind the wind block of skateboarding’s history might seem like the easy way out—unearthing the recent past instead of charging forward into uncharted territory—it’s still a worthy path for our newly amassed numbers to travel. Many times, new approaches have been forged by the obsessive drilling of the old ones. By learning all those past patterns and standards, Herbie Hancock saw something on the other side, and now pianists everywhere grow up on a steady diet of “Watermelon Man” and “Chameleon.” Picasso tirelessly ground his teeth on the traditions of realists, and only then was he able to step forward as the father of the movement known as Cubism. Stevie Ray had his Hendrix, Malkovich had his Brando, Hemmingway had his Twain.
Not that future imitation or the immortality that comes with it was ever the goal of these pioneers, but it’s clear that breakouts don’t only come from leaders, they come from students, as well. With new thoughts and ideas come the next half step to a thousand more ideas, fortunate mistakes, and advances. The culprit in skateboarding’s love of recycling, it seems, is invisible—a gradual and slightly more focused increase in something that’s always existed. Art.
The tallest boneless begins with a single step. Lizzie Aramanto strides right. Photo: Grant Brittain
Art?
“Pshaw,” you say, or, “You wish.”
Well it’s not a sport. That seems clear. Competition with others is not the driving force. Sure, it exists (Thought it didn’t?), but it’s more personal than interpersonal and, arguably, a struggle for expression, not one for victory.
“The arts,” the poet laureate uttered, “are learned through imitation.” And so it goes … if life imitates art, and art is learned through imitation, then life is art.
Or is life imitation?
One culprit in skateboarding’s love of recycling, it seems, is the humble frontside grind. George Rocha gets guilty. Photo: Tadashi Yamaoda
Wait, now I’m confused.
Maybe that’s the newest movement—puzzled production. Dazed design. Super stupidity. Yes—run with it!
Regardless, comparing and then contrasting might be a hopeful way of describing where skateboarding finds itself today. We’ll have our Monks, we’ll have our Prefontaines, we’ll have our Einsteins, and they’ll do us the thankless favor of clearing the way, their examples becoming our Rorschach—blurry looks at our future that can become anything we want.
Something like this: Keep one eye on the one 180s, we’ll watch the nosegrinds. It’s the least we can do. Julien Stranger. Photo: Tobin Yelland
And the good word might go something like this:
Keep one eye on the Blenders, the Gonzs, the Hensleys, but if you see a fresh way to step in and do something new-fangled, try not to get too worried what’s been done before or what’s never been done. Just step.
Listen to Iris Skateboards’ Garage Days Playlist.
