Skateboarding Is... September

This hiatus of mine has been a long, painful one, filled with many ideas and little time to think them through, much less cement them into a post. Many a time, ideas have begun to manifest, only to putter to an abrupt halt, cast into the purgatory that is my "drafts" folder: while discussing this with Brad yesterday evening, he claimed the above to be a blue-faced statement, but I assure all of you that this is not the case. Some of you may recall that I ensured a particularly special post upon my prodigal return, but said post is suffering some logistical setbacks, so in the meantime I hope my offer of one of my regular features will satiate you all for the time being.

Skateboarding is... Versatility

Also Barrel-Jumping... kinda

In and of itself, skateboarding is something of a niche activity, even in light of being more or less accepted in modern society, and within the niche that is the activity we all adore, there are several other subcategories, so to speak. We, as skateboarders, have all come across them, and many of us have made a point subscribe ourselves to one or another: be it street, vert, mini, freestyle, downhill, slalom, or even longboarding, ours is an activity that seemingly thrives on the idea of specialization within a particular field.

Why, then, if this is the case, am I sitting here right now claiming the exact opposite? Well, because while, yes, on the one hand most skaters make a point of finding one specialized area and honing their skills within it, skateboarding by its very nature demands of its purveyors an inherent versatility.

From a more macro standpoint, it can be argued that skateboarding is greater than the sum of its parts. That is to say, one reason that skateboarding has flourished the way it has, especially lately, is because of the fact that, past the act of riding a skateboard, every other aspect of skateboarding is defined by the individual doing it. In many ways, a skateboard is the most versatile mode of transportation ever conceived; every microcosmic sect under the blanket term of "skateboarding" is a testament to the fact that skateboarding thrives on versatility through individuality.

From an individual standpoint, this is most essentially personified in one's ability to adapt to different terrain. Now, while I could take this opportunity to extol the virtues of being well-rounded in every discipline, or wax poetic about what Jake Phelps recently dubbed the "Round-wall Renaissance", I'll see fit to avoid doing so, because at the end of the day, not everyone wishes to play jack-of-all-trades. Yes, being able to skate handrails and pools equally well certainly epitomizes the idea of versatility, but in that same breath, no two handrails are alike, any more so than any two pools are alike. Every piece of skateable terrain, whether made for skateboarding or not, is inherently unique; such is the beauty of human fallibility. Every crack, every kink, every millimetre difference in measurement provides a unique challenge. Even the act of skating down a different stretch of sidewalk than one's normal path can prove a new adventure, a new exercise for the mind and body. It is the ability to adapt to these variables, to conquer the new and unknown, that not only separates the good skaters from the great ones, but has also been the defining point of skateboarding for its entire existence.

In the end, the whole thing seems like an elementary exercise in basic logic: If a skateboard is a versatile object, and skateboarders are versatile people, then by all accounts...

Skateboarding is... Versatility.

Deadly Sinner, Original Prankster, Lifelong Friend

Twenty-five years ago today, though I was unaware of it (and probably most things) at the time, a good portion of my life was set in stone. This twist of fate, one may even go so far as to call it destiny, came in the form of Brad McGinn making his way into this world.

When we were kids, Brad and I were often mistaken for
brothers; to this day, that hasn't changed.

I met Brad for the first time in Kindergarten; he was, if I remember correctly, a good couple notches more hyperactive than I was. Making friends at such an early age usually involves little social vetting, and the resulting friendships almost inevitably dissolve sometime between the next day and high school graduation. Brad and I, in spite of a brief falling out in the sixth grade, were almost inseparable through more or less all of grade school. By the end of eighth grade, however, the friendship had seemed to have run its course.

Brad and I spent the majority of our high school years with different friends, doing different things. I hung out with anime geeks, skated, and started listening to punk rock, and he hung out with goth kids, got into running, and started listening to metal. Come senior year we had but one common friend, and through said friend he and I reconnected.

Also, I found out that Brad had just started skateboarding.

I often like to recount the first time we skated together. I invited Brad out to my subdivision, to skate a modular park that set up in the parking lot of the local soccer fields. All told, not much skating happened, because about twenty minutes into the session, Brad's brand new ten gig iPod fell and broke*.

Even our trick selection seems related: twin streetplants, 2009.

To this day, I truly cannot think of what my skateboarding would have been like were it not for that day back in 2004, or for that matter, this very day back in 1986. Since then, Brad and I have learned tricks from and with one another, skated contests and demos together, released parts for the same videos, and even wound up skating for the same board sponsor. We've watched each other progress and mature, not only as skaters, but as people in general: I watched him learn inverts and frontside grinds, and at the same time I watched him meet the love of his life, and was one of the first people to see her engagement ring, even before she did. I visited him when he broke his leg, and he did the same for me. The stories I have are nearly unending, but for the sake of relative brevity I'll leave them at that. Though we now live far enough apart and have enough responsibilities that we don't skate together all the time, and very rarely for an entire day, when we do get together we have just as much fun as we did back in high school, learning bertlemanns on our local pyramid and then going to Taco Bell and ordering drive-thru with fake Scottish accents.

I may have learned frontside airs first, but Brad's got 'em
better than I probably ever will.

Brad has told me from time to time that he's not sure if he'd still be skating if we weren't such good friends. While I hate to entertain the notion for either of us, I wonder if I could say the same. Thankfully, I need not worry about the notion, as the litany of e-mails and text messages between the two of us contemplating trick ideas only serves as a confirmation of the fact that he and I are in this for life.

So happy birthday, Brad. You are, among other things, a great skater, a stand-up guy, and very possibly the best friend I could ask for. Enjoy your day, and I'll see you at the party this weekend.

*Editor's note: Don't worry about the iPod: Brad got the extended warranty, and got it replaced the next day.

Beauty: In the Eye of the Beholder, or the Holder of the Fisheye?

This morning, during one of my many daily perusals of the handful of skate news sites I frequent, I noticed a video over at Skate Daily , a short part welcoming Phil Ladjanski to Keystone Skateboards, a small company operated out of Phillidelphia, PA. I figured I'd share it with you, not only because the skating is good, but something I noticed about it brought to mind something I've mulled over to myself many times.



Any guesses?
Anyone?
....Bueller?
For anyone who didn't notice, not a single clip seems to have been shot with a fisheye lens. For that matter, the entire part looks as though it was shot with a point-and-shoot digital camera, as opposed to whatever high-tech HD camera, replete with a price tag higher than my last year's university tuition, is considered the "industry standard" these days.

Panasonic AG-HVX200A (enough of a mouthful, guys?) - $4,295

Panasonic AG-LW7208G Wide Angle Lens - $499

Filming a skate video that looks like every other skate video in the last decade? - Priceless?

Now, I'm not one to completely downplay the usefulness of the fisheye lens - I've been on the subject side of a fisheye in both stills and video on several occasions, and under certain circumstances I think it's very useful, after all, why lese would it have become the standard for skateboarding documentation? What I will say, though, is that the industry has developed an unhealthy dependence on the fisheye. I can remember being fifteen, and picking up an issue of Skateboarder Magazine that featured a list of "The 100 Greatest Things About Skateboarding"

I couldn't find the actual cover anywhere, so here's another one that just so happens to have the number 100 on it.











At any rate, one of the spots on the list was given to filmer Fred Mortagne's use of rolling long-lens footage, notably in the 2000 èS video Menikmati, as exemplified in Eric Koston's ender in the video:



For what it's worth, the number of second, and occasinally third angles seem to act almost as a gentle hint to other skateboard filmers, a way of saying "Hey guys, look! All these tricks can be shot using different angles and lenses!" That's the kind of creative filmwork I can admire.
Having recently finished editing the FnM promo video, all of which was shot on lower-end cameras (mostly point-and shoot), and having filmed a good portion of my own part myself, reliance on creative camera positioning became a must, and I feel like the effort put into it paid off.
Maybe I've gone off on a bit of a tangent, here... I guess the moral of the story is that people just want to watch some good skateboarding, and filming it well shouldn't have to involve taking out a line of credit.

Oh, and best of luck to you, Mr. Ladjanski.