Romanticism
Does romanticism exist in skateboarding?
A strange question, maybe, in a world where masculinity has always been a strong reference point (despite the recent years of “liberalization”).
Well, in my personal opinion, YES—skateboarding is romantic.
A push, given in a certain context, city, or street, is romantic.
One of the countless photos published over the years in various skate mags is romantic.(Unforgettable: a photo of Dill in the middle of the rain, who knows where, during the golden Alien Workshop era)
It’s romantic in the stubborn determination that keeps us trying the same trick for hours or even days.
It’s romantic to carry on a passion that started in childhood and is still going strong at 50—like grandparents who married young and stayed together forever. You, the board, and the world to explore—or even just the curb outside your house, where we all began.
It’s romantic, to me, to look at the board from underneath—from the angle of the trucks and wheels. Those lines make me smile. The sound of a snap in the distance, or wheels rolling on pavement—that’s romantic.
Heath Kirchart is romantic in the first line of This Is Skateboarding, with that slam off the hubba. Not the slam itself, but the way the whole moment was conveyed to us.
It’s romantic to arrive at MACBA every time, to skate Red Plaza in Copenhagen, to push through the streets of NYC, to skate the Natas slappies in Venice, and so on.
The Yeah Right! section with Death in Vegas is romantic—with Rick Howard delivering one of his best parts ever: starting with a switch backside tailslide and ending with that epic trick on the bank-to-bench, breaking his board as if letting go of a weight… all of that moved me, and I believe it moves you too.
But hey—don’t go telling your suburban girlfriends… this stuff hits deep!
Photo credits:
- Jody Morris – Dream team, Nottingham 1994
- Greg Hunt – Jason Dill, NYC 2005
– S
