"Half Pipe" by Greg Shewchuk

Half Pipe

A boy stands on the edge of a ramp. He is a child, really. 11 years old. It has taken him these years to grow from infancy, to learn to move, to make his way to the top of this massive curved structure. His body is just learning to express its desire for action and communion. His skin is soft and clear, his eyes wild, a determined look on his face, yet still innocent.

He leans forward and drops in. His legs unweight as he plummets in the perfect path of gravity. Nothing restrains his descent. He is 12 now, 13, his adolescence flying by as his wheels lightly grace the surface of the ramp. His eyes water, there is a trace of wisdom in the corner of his glare. He has shed his anxiety, his fear of the darkness, as he falls.

The ramp curves beneath him. Now he is a teenager, his attitude is changing. His style is more pronounced and there is a singular aggression in his stance. His strong legs absorb the increasing impact, his hands trailing at a perfect angle, like a painter holding a brush. He looks forward, no longer unsure of his footing, ready for the eventuality of his committed plunge. The ground rises up to meet him, embroiling him in a battle with light and sound. He is 18, 19, he has come of age, he is in his 20′s, a young man, fierce and intent.

His path straightens. He skates across the flatbottom at full speed. He stands upright, confronting the wind. His eyes take in the expanse of his surroundings, yet remain focused on his path. Time moves so quickly. He is 25 now, 30, releasing himself from his adolescent naiveté, letting go of his judgments and arrogance. The past streams behind him and he wonders how he can have come so far. He feels lucky to be alive, blessed to have seen so much of life’s kaleidoscope.

He is 40 years old. He approaches the oncoming wall at the same breakneck speed. The monolith rises above him and he bends his tiring knees, looking up, absorbing the shift in movement and feeling the wind pushed from his chest. His arms, knotted with muscle and pocked with scars, coordinate to pump his way up the wall like a bird in flight. He knows the answers now, he has freed himself from his misconceptions, he prays for the grace to keep moving, to keep breathing.

He shoots up the transition, a man in his 50′s, 60′s, his skin becoming thin and pale, his eyes retreating in space yet shining bright in luster. His regrets have faded, he has made his peace. His yellowing teeth revealed through a smile, his old legs pushing through the soles of his feet with a familiar assuredness. This is what he has always done, yet it feels as new now as when he was a child.

A 70 year old man reaches the vertical plane of the ramp, casting away the anchors of inertia, set free into the wind. His skateboard takes flight, his wizened frame delicately connected as they rocket into empty space. Rising into the sunlight. He is 80 now, 90, his bones frail but his heart still pumping blood, his thoughts lilting and simple, as if they never meant anything at all. He reaches the apex of his aerial at the age of 100, a centenarian, complete.

Having made the great ascent, he releases himself from his bodily form as his crude mass diminishes into dust and his essence releases into the ether.

He is 1000 years old now, having dissolved into the air and the clouds. He rolls above the earth, observing the movements and inhabitants with an impartial radiance.

100,000 years old. He is the light from the stars, reflecting off the planets and moons through the emptiness of space.

Now he is one million. He has absorbed the deepest, darkest secrets of the cosmos. The half pipe is gone. He is gone.

-GMS, 4/16/2009

March 28: A Day of Peace, Love, and Chaos

skateblastazpx091

For the past three years I’ve been blessed to travel to the San Carlos Apache Reservation in Arizona to partake in an inspiring and heartfelt expression of skateboard/punk/diy love. The event is the Apache Skate Blast, organized by artist and father Doug Miles, and centers around a skate contest and concert that takes place on family land in the heart of the Reservation.

This year marks the fourth anniversary of the Skate Blast, and as Doug says, “This is going to be special… # “4″ is a very sacred number to Apaches.” If you are anywhere near Arizona (or not, people come from across the country) I strongly suggest you come out for the day and see what it’s all about. A lot of young skaters coming up, good music (JFA has headlined every year), and immersion in a community that just keeps getting stronger and stronger. It’s truly a beautiful thing.

You can see more flyers and get info at myspace.com/apacheskateblast

See you there, warriors

Indulging in Roughhousing

Plucked from the SkateDaily blog:

Skateboarders in Poway will have to register and be fingerprinted before using the Skate Park.

The city council voted in favor of the new high tech entry system Tuesday night. Skaters will have to press a thumb pad on a turnstile. If a scanner matches a skateboarder’s print to the one given in a new, free registration process, they’ll be allowed in. A security camera will record the entry.

Full article at MSNBC.

Whenever I’m confronted with this sort of thing, I like to ask myself: would a tennis player suffer the same indignities in pursuit of their recreation?

Or, would I submit my kid to this bullshit? What exactly is to be gained by treating children as untrustworthy, uncontrollable criminals?

It will cost taxpayers 50 grand, by the way.

“Go fuck yourselves, San Diego.” – Ron Burgundy

"Backyard Waves" by Greg Shewchuk

arthur-rampsketch

Years ago I built a 5′ tall, 20′ wide mini-ramp in my backyard. I’d recently moved in with Reza Bahador, my Hapkido instructor, and we were both keen on using our immediate physical surroundings to full capacity, taking advantage of every space to develop ourselves physically and spiritually. Beyond the momentous task of designing and building the structure, which was a challenge and process in itself, the ramp soon became my training ground and my temple, a place for me to clear my mind of confusion and connect to the real world.

When I moved, I broke down the ramp and kept the wood in storage, and in the last few months the Land Of Plenty interns have revitalized the sleeping behemoth out in the mountains of Los Angeles. I am so happy that what might have otherwise been discarded was effectively recycled, and now some other young skaters have the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of their own backyard ramp. In a world of fenced-in skateparks and the ever increasing criminalization of skateboarding in the streets, there is a special magic to containing your own secret skate wave in the privacy of your home base. It’s a place to learn and grow and share.

Arthur readers in particular should be hip to this situation. On one hand, skateboarding is of the world- you can, and should, do it anywhere. Break down the barriers and run wild. On the other hand, it is an opportunity to go inside, to create the most introverted sacred space available and find the silence within. If you are lucky enough to have a yard, use it! A backyard ramp is like a playground set for the spirit. Transitioned walls reverberate a spiritual energy right up into the heavens. You can skate for hours, with your friends and family around, playing music, burning fires, drinking tea and dancing into the night.
This link will take you to a page I created about the LOP ramp development process: taking a look at the space you have available, cultivating a design from your imagination, and then building that imaginary construct with your hands. As with skating, there are no rules, but there are some conventions that tend to result in the most constant and progressive skating: circular transitions, flatbottom, platforms, coping… but anything is possible, using any number of materials, and there is no reason to limit yourself to what has already been done.

I’m currently working on some small, portable ramp designs, and waiting for the universe to land me in a ramp-ready situation again. In the meantime, I hope you can find some inspiration in the LOP ramp, and maybe look at your backyard in a new way. If you don’t skate, don’t worry about it- once you have a ramp, you’ll probably start, and either your kids or the local kids will be able to roll through and show you how to have an endless good time with the simplest things: earth, wood, wind, and fire. Light it up.

-GMS

"Real Eyes": Greg Shewchuk's "Advanced Standing" column for Arthur 32

This is the text of the “Advanced Standing” column for Arthur No. 32:

Real Eyes: What Are We Skating Towards?
by Gregory Shewchuk

“To know the truth of one’s Self as the sole Reality, and to merge and become one with it, is the only true Realization.” – Ramana Maharshi

One indication that I am not quite an enlightened being is my temper—I can get very angry and lose touch with my higher purpose. As much as I enjoy skateboarding, when things are not going well I occasionally lose my shit: throw my board, punch myself, scream at the heavens, and curse myself for even trying to ride the thing. It’s not always fun and games. In addition to the physical challenge, skateboarding can be highly emotional and often takes me to the edge of some very unpleasant feelings: doubt, frustration, depression, seething anger. Yet I keep coming back to my board, to roll around and delve deeper into the process. After 20 years of sidewalk surfing, I’ve started to understand what I am looking for.
Continue reading