On and on, on and on, and so we ride. From the gentle slope to the forgiving flat, rail to hubba, coping to spine. Lo’ and behold, we miss what is right in front of us: the unappreciated artists who grace our skateparks with their art.
“I believe it was American author Joe Navarro who spake: “The problem is that most people spend their lives looking… but not truly seeing.” [sips wine]”
You may be shocked to learn that I, Professor Christopher Skitchins, am actually an avid fan and keen follower of the urban form of artistic expression known esoterically as “graffiti”. Graffiti – the etymology of which lies in the Ancient Greek word graphein [γραφειν] – is akin to skateboarding, in that both are countercultures developed by disenfranchised groups looking to reject the status quo and perceived values of modern society. It is not unexpected, then, that some of the most remarkable examples of street artistry emerges upon the very same earth on which we toil: in skateparks. Here I would like to outline and explore some of the most impressive instances of skateboarding and graffiti coming together in a meeting of minds.
1. The Progenitor
Oh, what better way for it to begin. Let us not be repelled nor dissuaded from our analysis simply by the presence of the word Cunt. Indeed, the artist here is utilising the Gaze, turning the lens on the onlooker, who must come face to face with the word they know is so unexpectable in society despite it referring to the same reproductive organ that creates all life.
Even, it seems, the friendly bubble-esque writing cannot disguise the gruesome power of the word. Alas, it is not simply that the artist wishes us to come to terms with one of the great taboos of language here. No, the artist is reminding us that skateboarding is a male dominated sport; so while we may be put off by the piece, we must acknowledge our own role in excluding the feminine in our culture.
2. The Conqueror
Another politically charged message, that much is clear from the get go. Notice the grand emblazoning of the letters, the uniform height and separation of the characters, and the way it sits proudly across the shaft of a victorious phallus.
In modern skateboarding it is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the presence of huge competitions like Street League, and how the money is rapidly shifting in their direction. It seems despite the origins of skateboarding lying in the DIY philosophy, the trophies will always shine brighter than Mix-Your-Own-Cement bags at the abandoned pool.
But what are these trophies if not totems to decide the alpha-males, to decide who is most well endowed. There is an optimistic end to this tail… the piece reads “2013”, suggesting that in 2017 we may well be returning to a time when this sort of primitive competitiveness is no longer at the head nor base of our culture.
3. The Patient
This piece looks less towards what is wrong within skateboarding culture, but rather casts its net more broadly outside, towards Western society in general, and particularly tackles our addictive tendencies to anaesthetise ourselves day in and day out. Indeed, where better to discuss this than on the blank canvas of self-expression: the skatepark?
In this piece, the artist begins with the words we read so often in our ‘generously’ supplied public spaces: “Pick Up Rubbish”. This instruction, nae demand, to clean up after ourselves pulls at our culturally indoctrinated subservience to the state: if we leave no dirt, there is no dirt to speak of.
However, as the artist goes on to elucidate, it is not only the rubbish we see that suggests deterioration of civilisation. And with the flick of his spray can, this renegade turns the sentence from one of state domination, to one of civil uprising. “Pick Up Rubbish Pills 4 Life”, it says. The message is clear: our self-medicating with social media, television, junk food and alcohol does make a mess, and it’s time for all of society to pick up the slack if we are going to regain control.
4. The Age of Innocence
UK Punk icon John “Johnny Rotten” Lydon once said “Remaining childish is a tremendous state of innocence.” Of course, he hardly looks as fresh as the day he was born nowadays thanks to drugs, alcohol and sexual promiscuity; but nonetheless, when Wittgenstein said “where on one cannot speak, one must remain silent”, I’m sure there was a clause which excused the Sex Pistols.
This piece is all about loss of innocence. Alas, we all feel it, the slow suffocation of our childish wonder, the playful nature that rendered colourful characters and imaginary friends the population of our own personal paradise. The mere passing of time strips us of this, and we are left to face the unreasonable silence of the world, the chaos of the Absurd and the immovable, unfathomable truth: we are all going to die.
Winnie The Pooh is one such childhood memory that can almost universally signify innocence. The search for honey (for sugar, candy, the only thing of meaning as a child), the need to bounce (to jump, to play), and of course, the pure joy of playing pin the tail on the donkey.
As we grow up these things are replaced with shallow pleasures that mask the frightening facts that come hand-in-hand with adulthood. Prime among them, sexual desire replacing true human connection, and, of course, drugs to replace imagination. “Tigger Getting Frisky” here depicts the innocence lost to both of these. But is there perhaps an optimistic message, that the artist is still able to hold on to enough of his childlike imagination to create such a telling portrait?
5. The End
There are some works of art which fill the heart with some profound sadness that it is difficult for the blunt tool of language to really explain the emotive efficacy of the art. This is one such piece. The artist here manages to encapsulate many of the themes we’ve encountered so far: the loss of innocence, the immediacy and inevitability of death, the shallowness of prejudice and competitiveness. But the specificity of “My” and “Dad” place all of this in the immediate, in the now.
The artist is revisiting a place that once meant a lot to them. Perhaps the skatepark was where they and their father bonded, and now the place holds an almighty stench of the past, of loss for this person.
While in the background we can see more traditionally skilled artists working the typographical gymnastics with courageous lettering, this artist instead chose the red Sharpie to scrawl a much more profound message, which almost appears to be written in blood.
