Welcome to another installment of The Joy of Skateboarding, an illustrated column in which Fancy Lad pro and SKATEISM resident philosophizer, Orange Man, tries to get at the meaning behind it all. This column, with a very obvious homage to Shel Silverstein, reflects on what is and isn’t a skate spot and why. It may not be necessary to gaze at one’s navel and think very intently about the definition of a spot, and why we care so much about that, but it is certainly pleasant. And it is actually very useful, we would argue, to occasionally take a step back and think about the unwritten rules that govern our little corner of culture. They may seem frivolous or tedious or not worth noting, but they have a lot to say about what makes skateboarding unique. If we examine, for example, the strange allure of the crappy ledge spot down the street from the skatepark, we see that street skating is only partially about technical mastery of tricks, and is actually much more concerned with how we relate to authority. We skate the bad loading dock ledge not because it’s an easy place to get a few tricks, but because someone somewhere doesn’t want us to. And that’s a very good thing. – SKATEISM
Words by Abraham Dubin (Orange Man)
Where exactly does the skatepark end? Where the street section intersects with the street. The point break of the sidewalk surf and the sandy shores of the training facility.
Sometimes defined by a chain link fence, or maybe just a manicured patch of grass, there is a clear distinction between the institutional “meant for skating” arena and everything else. Swirling around that obscure and often invisible boundary line between the should and should not, the wildflowers of play spring up. The curb on the parking lot just outside of the million-dollar skate facility is more slathered in wax, pocked and pulverized by grinds than all of the ledges or quarterpipes nearly 10 feet away. The roll-away of the 3-set across the street is cratered by the axle nuts of prime put-downs. The loading dock around the corner, reeking of boiling garbage juice, is invaluable in its real street credibility.
Back here, away from the helicopter parents, skaters have the privacy to learn tricks and to just exist. Unadulterated in the wild. In a place where every crater and crevice is an obstacle to claim as such, to decide what is and what isn’t a ramp!
In fact, the skatepark is the ONLY place that is NOT a skate spot.
The skate park, however, is a community center, almost a religious house of worship where the fellowship congregate for practice. Like any temple, it’s what you learn there and what you take with you into the real world that matters most.
As my good friend Weird Eric always says, “you go to the skatepark for directions on how to leave the skatepark”. Take the plunge into where skating really happens: the streets.
