Recording the Ride: The Rise of Street-Style Skate Videos
In Memoriam: Michael Anthony Ternasky (March 4, 1966 - May 17, 1994)
Will the ‘90s skate video one day be studied in museums and acadamia as a form of high art? That day may already be upon up as Jacob Rosenberg, Michaela Ternasky-Holland, and the Museum of The Moving Image in NYC sit on the verge of opening their Recording The Ride: The Rise of Street-Style Skate Videos this coming Sept. 7. Focusing entirely on the VHS tape era, Recording The Ride breaks down the key releases from ’84 through ’00, showcases all the trappings and artifacts that came with them whilst seeking to communicate to the general public how these videos acted as proto-social media—spreading the culture’s technical, stylistic and even musical evolution worldwide.
In addition to possibly setting the stage for Questionable, Virtual Reality, and Video Days being entered into the Library of Congress, RTR is also simply an incredible story of a daughter (Michaela) learning about her father (Mike Ternasky) and the medium he helped create. Ternasky tragically died in a car accident in 1994 before Michaela was born and she had never even heard his voice before Jacob showed her footage of MT filming Pat Duffy for Questionable. Synchronicity is a big word these days but it is nearly impossible to watch all of this unfold without believing some stars are aligning in the cosmic friends section in the sky.
In hopes of further illuminating this extraordinary exhibit (running from Sept. 7, 2024 - Jan. 25, 2025) as well as the deeply human subplot I spoke to Jacob, Michaela, and MoMI Lead Curator Barbara Miller one week before it opens.
JACOB ROSENBERG
Can you tell us how this came about?
JR: I have long wanted to get skate videos into a museum setting and to get Mike Ternasky’s name in the historical record. Mike’s daughter Michaela came into my life in 2012 when I had finished Waiting for Lightning. Michaela is a director and creator in her own right and had a film installation for a Virtual Reality project she made at The Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. We were coming up on the 30th anniversary of her dad’s tragic death and we talked about trying to pitch an exhibit around him. She mentioned her relationship with MoMI and pitched the idea to them. They came back to us with complete enthusiasm for skate videos and the goal of expanding the scope of the exhibit while still including Mike and our Plan B trilogy as a focal point. We hopped on a call with their Curator Barbara Miller and Designer Dánae Colomer and we just dove in. Their passion and constant curiosity was really invigorating knowing they would treat the culture and the exhibit properly.
Has the skate video itself ever been featured at this level in a museum setting?
I screened Waiting for Lightning in 2013 at the Smithsonian to coincide with them accepting the first skateboarding artifacts into their collection. Bones Brigade Video Show (‘84) also screened that weekend. Skateboarding has had exhibits that have featured video tape objects. There was a MOMA panel and screening around a Spike Jonze retrospective, but for all of our research and knowledge there has never been a bona-fide museum placing a skateboard VHS tape at the center of an exhibition and identifying their cultural, technical and historical significance.
Does this exhibit differentiate between street-style skate videos and skate videos in general?
These videos and the curation of this exhibition is centered on helping to capture how the contemporary voice and tone of street skating videos came to be. In the mid-90s most videos were street only, but in the beginning of the ‘90s it’s street and vert and then ironically with The End (‘00) at the end of the ‘90s it’s street and vert. We are calling out street skating because in this era – skateboarding itself took on a new relationship with urban cities and unique architecture. When you go from sessioning “spots” in the Plan B trilogy (‘92-’94) to flowing through East Coast streets in Underachievers (‘96), you clearly see the growth of the form and the environmental elements being more pronounced.
What made the Museum of The Moving Image the ideal host?
I deeply believe in the meaning of things. So of course, a big reason is because they said yes to the exhibit and Barbara and Dánae came with intelligence, discourse, and passion for the culture. But the biggest reason why they were ideal is two-fold, one – Michaela has screened her VR work there, so there was trust and integrity and a history to the relationship. Two – they are an institution rooted in the celebration, preservation and exhibition of Film and Cinema. If you want skate videos to be cataloged properly then we need to start looking at them as “films” and works of art that are within the total conversation of filmmaking. MoMI provides that legitimacy immediately – in fact, I don’t think there is any better of a backdrop.
Lance Mountain acid drops at the CMA building in LA for The Bones Brigade Video Show (1984 by Powell Peralta) as Stacy and crew film—showing the world how street skating is done in the process.
How did you decide which videos to feature?
I lost sleep over this and had a lot of stress, but in essence, Barbara Miller (Lead Curator) and I had a ton of conversations about skate videos over the course of many months. We knew that the Plan B trilogy and Mike T would be a center piece and we subscribe to the point-of-view that those videos are foundational to the structure and presentation of the modern skate video. I believe this to be fact. There are undeniably outlier videos and videos that contribute to the depth of the language of skate videos, but if you look at Questionable (‘92) and Virtual Reality (‘93) – you see for the first time – a truly THEATRICAL presentation of a skate video. Of course, there were premieres prior to those videos, but skate videos were not the same after those premieres and those videos were released. So, we looked at videos that provided a direction for the format to go in and are undeniably foundational and reference points to the moment today. We showcase two videos prior to 1991 and then everything after that goes to 2001. Barbara and I agreed that once a skate video was released on DVD and a part could be “skipped,” this era is over. So, the focus is VHS skate videos that expanded the language and expression of the medium. The way the exhibit is built too – we have videos we are featuring, but we also have VHS Tapes in original boxes (thank you The Secret Tape) that help showcase more than the primary videos of the exhibit.
When you enter the exhibition space you see the outliers in focus and then you feel this massive collective conversation. It's important to add that I had a small group of skate nerds and filmmakers who I gut checked things with – but the responsibility for the curation and selection falls on my shoulders and Barbara’s. Anyone who has written a book, made a film or curated something like this, knows you can’t please everybody, but I am looking at the big picture of this being a FIRST and the chatter and noise and opinions about what’s missing or what someone else’s favorites are – can help build the NEXT exhibition that someone else does. Michaela’s and my goal was to plant a deserved flag for her father and make sure an institution backs the medium that her father helped pioneer.
VHS - The straight dope delivery method for skate culture. Some beloved classics from 1992- 2003. Photo: ME
Can you break down Michaela’s involvement? Your own story and hers (and her father’s of course) seem almost like a firsthand subplot to the wider history of the street skate video.
That’s a lot to unpack but I will try to shape it right, while respecting the heaviness and depth. Michaela was born after her father died and her mother Mary took over the reins of Plan B and did her best to run it. It became obvious that it was too much for her and so she eventually re-married and moved away. After Michaela’s second birthday (1996) she was no longer in my life save for the family Christmas card updates. Fast forward 16 years, Michaela secretly used her mother’s phone to text me around the time I was premiering Waiting for Lightning in 2012. After she turned 18 later that year – she asked to meet me. I was at my production company at the time and this little Mini-MT spark plug comes into my office and I just collapse. It was so overwhelming to see her after holding her father’s legacy for so long. Somewhere during that gap of not seeing each other, I wrote in a diary, “Someday I hope you find me and ask me about the man your father was.” The universe made those exact wishes come true – and then some.
At that time – she didn’t know anything about her birth father and had never even heard his voice. I put her in the screening room at the office and I let her watch the entire raw footage of her dad and Pat (Duffy) filming the backlip in the rain. It was a baptism by immersion, but it felt right – despite the enormity of that moment. From that day forward I helped guide her through her father’s friends and associates and became an uncle and mentor figure. I imagined what Mike would want me to be for her and I just tried – with all of my heart – to provide guard rails and zero judgement for the choices she was making and simply tried to support the essence of her identity that was emerging the way her dad supported me.
Hand-me-down dubbed VHS skate tapes carried the message of the culture worldwide. Photo: ME
Fast forward to a few years ago - Michaela is a director and creator making VR films and AR experiences, she lives in New York and is thriving. We still have that close mentor/uncle/father relationship, and we talk often about a tribute to her dad. She has the relationship with MoMI and she pitches them and we were off to the races. Our partnership for the exhibit was that she is the custodian (with her mother) for the artifacts that belonged to her father, and she is stepping into the role of really helping to plant a flag for his legacy. She has deep roots in experiential design so she co-designed the exhibit with MoMI, she aligned with me on how we present her father’s legacy and the Plan B trilogy and then I would curate the videos, get the artifacts and guide the skate centric aspects of the exhibit. It was a 100% tandem effort where each of us played to our strength but built it together with the amazing support of the MoMI staff. In a beautiful way, Michaela also recognized that there was a deep need inside of myself for me to have my hands dirty and really push for artifacts and videos and filmmakers from the era, so she had my back making sure what was important to me pushed through. At the end of the day – this has to be an exhibit that a culturally curious person on the street can walk into and feel. The MoMI team always kept that vision, which is important.
The last thing I will add, which makes me a bit emotional to write is that it is FACT that the process of putting the exhibit together, touching all the artifacts, watching all the videos and being immersed in the culture helped her finally know her father at a level that she wasn’t capable of before. I firmly believe that that aspect of this exhibit is the most profound and beautiful, that a daughter can finally know her father through the process of making something for the culture. And in this way – as a mentor/uncle/father I feel like I have completed the task set out by her father’s impact on me and that profound diary entry.
Dan Sturt shoots a photo (via remote trigger) of Sean Sheffey lipsliding at School Q whilst simultaneously filming a clip that ended up in the Questionable slam section. Sturt and Mike Ternasky were frequent collaborators on projects from H-Street, Life and Plan B. Both were masters of their craft. TWS March 1992.
It sounds like this exhibit is also very much a tribute to Mike?
Absolutely. A center piece of the exhibition is a bit of an unpacking of Mike personally and creatively. Mike really looked at the form of skate videos and constantly pushed to make them more impactful and progressive. If you look at Powell Peralta videos – they progressed the content and style and form in that they had a severe amount of art direction, skits and little snippets that gave them shape and flavor. If you watch Mike’s voice from Shackle (‘88) to Hokus (‘89) to Now n’ Later (‘91) to Not the New (‘90) to Life (‘91) and then to Questionable (‘92), he is stripping out the “artsy” stuff (which is great and has a place) and reducing the videos down to a quality of photography, a sense of scale with tricks and a clear goal of making a skateboard video feel like a theatrical and fast paced experience. You feel the essence of the skaters with perfectly crafted parts and a building structure that constantly pays off.
Mike wanted videos to be more and express more and I know that the bar was raised with the Plan B trilogy that we made together and everything sort of grew around that and rightfully as a reaction to that. I don’t want to get on a soapbox and say those videos are more important than other videos because everything has its own significance. But what Michaela and I want to say is that her father’s voice is foundational to the modern form. That our collaboration (Mine and Mike’s) reflect a core component of mentorship that is critical to helping artists grow. Mike mentors me, I mentor Michaela and here we have an unprecedented exhibit that goes beyond the core culture. So there is rightfully a section of the exhibit with artifacts devoted to Mike and the production process of the Plan B trilogy. There are personal items from the H-Street era and one of my own prized possessions, his Canon A1 Digital video camera which is part of the exhibit. There are artifacts related to our personal relationship as well.
Sal Barbier, Sean Sheffey, and Mike Ternasky (possibly holding his famous Canon A1 Digital Camcorder) in '92 as they plot what to film next for Questionable. Photo: Rosenberg.
Will there be some archival goodies from your vault and others?
The artifact situation is bonkers and I feel like skate ephemera nerds will not only lose their minds seeing original tapes, but we have an exhaustive collection of items from the making of each featured video. I connected early with Brendan from The Secret Tape to pull all the physical VHS tapes from his collection, so we have amazing original tapes that are featured. I connected with Kevin Marks from Lookback Library and he provided all the magazines that are featured. And then I introduced Tim and Sarah from Deckaid to MoMI and they provided all the decks.
I feel very very strongly that the culture of skating needed to contribute the objects and have their fingerprint on the exhibit. Anthony Pappalardo wrote the descriptions for the Videos (and was a confidante) and worked with MoMI to get them into their museum language. It’s just super important that the voice of the actual culture shines through because so many times it becomes institutionalized and you lose the authenticity and voice of the actual culture. Jamie Thomas physically handed me his raw tapes from Welcome to Hell (‘96) for the exhibit, so it’s skaters sharing with skaters in order to expand that awareness.
This is probably a tough one to answer but what would you choose if you had to pick a single video as the most influential?
It's a super tough question because it’s so personal and I could answer as a historian and then as a filmmaker. I think Bones Brigade Video Show is really insanely influential because it is both montage and mini-follow-story. It’s one of the first time you see street skating as a through line to the transition skating and the presentation is so premium and clear. I don’t know where skate videos would be without what Stacy put together and felt right about. Also because tonally it’s sarcastic and then super heart pumping. Just the opening from the skit to the '“Skate and Destroy” montage. You can point a straight line from that to Mouse (‘96), for example. And then as a filmmaker – it’s kind of a toss-up between Shackle Me Not and Memory Screen (‘91), they really cracked open the format and tone and made a young kid and the culture think differently about the presentation and progression (visually and with tricks) of skateboarding. Too tough of a question because there are videos that very few people have seen that have moments that jump off the screen like Natas’ part in Tony Robert’s Going Off (‘87) or just about all of Sick Boys (‘88). I guess I would hope that people would go to the exhibit and write down all the names of the videos in there and watch them all and have the debate. See the work - feel it and study it from a historical and formal perspective. It’s rich.
This exhibit touches on something unique I believe that sets skateboard culture apart from almost every other pastime or sport. Can you name another subculture driven by a similar parallel universe of videos and videography?
I have tried hard to think about this and certainly surfing was the first “sub-culture” to document itself and create theatrical experiences. Warren Miller pioneered snow filming. But both of these examples don’t really achieve what skateboarding has which is the dialectic conversation between videos and progression that pushes the culture (tricks) forward and also pushes the medium (videos). In this beautiful way skateboarding is ALWAYS having a conversation with itself through the making of these videos. If you just take on being a historian and watch videos closely – you can see the culture taking shape. All the trends and choices are on the screen and it has never stopped since the proliferation of videos in the '80s.
Do full-length skate videos still carry the cultural weight they did in the ‘80s/‘90s/and ‘00s? Is this living history or has the paradigm changed yet again?
If you are a skateboard filmmaker and you take the time to craft and execute a vision it 100% has the power to impact culture. It’s just a matter of the attention span and the ways in which the culture consumes the videos. I recently think of Josh Stewart and Daniel Wheatley and if those films screened often and only on big screen the culture would be talking about it on a bigger scale. Because the people who do see those films that way – talk about it. Strobeck’s full-lengths are still so powerful and undeniable as complete works. I think the “rules of the platforms” changed the paradigm and put unnecessary guardrails up, but I would hope there is an advocacy for preserving the theatrical experience and making full length videos as experiences for the culture. It’s tough right? Thrasher obviously has a complete ecosystem of dropping “parts.” They likely aren’t motivated to kill that in order to shift the culture back to something more sacred. But that’s a byproduct of SOTY and this run up to the end of the year. But then again – Josh and Daniel’s work (for example), can thrive because it is different, and it demands a different type of attention. But it’s certainly the wild west right now. Bill was explaining to me that kids were filming at a premiere and/or “clipping” enders from a full-length and posting them immediately to their accounts. I don’t know how to process that – but it’s a different generation and they have a different relationship to video. I believe in the medium and the format and I know there are incredible videos that haven’t been made yet, hopefully by some people who go to church at the exhibit and are inspired to experiment and use their voice.
The Sony VX with Century Optics Fisheye. The settup of choice by '99/'00. Photo: ME
Most challenging part of making this a reality?
Oh man – it was a complete team effort to pull this together and Michaela and I went through a very beautiful growth aspect of our relationship where she is stepping into her father’s legacy, and I am gently relinquishing how tightly I have held it. That was just challenging emotionally, but in the end, it was an insane blessing. With that aside – it was exhausting and gratifying staying on top of all these filmmakers to get their permission to include their works and then to get our hands on specific artifacts from the making of the videos. In a real way it was a full-time job because many of these people are pure artists and you have to be able to engage without a moment’s notice and then you gotta drive to where they are to get your hands on the stuff. It’s hard to express how honored and humbled I am by their trust – but the partnership with Michaela and then backstop of this legit film museum made it easy for me to guarantee to them that this would be special and that the artifacts would be treated with extreme delicacy. The last 6 months have felt like a beautiful immersion back into the depths of the skate video world, getting on weekly calls and constantly unpacking the culture from Barbara (curator) and Danae (Designer) from MoMI was this reminder of how rich skateboarding is with stories and life and craft. It was really gratifying to see them “getting it” and then them wanting certain types of artifacts and watching videos and then talking about it.
Longtime videographer Josh Stewart films Jahmal Williams with a VX-1000 for his recent Static series. Photo: Kim.
What would you like people to come away with after they see this?
I want people to walk away being overwhelmed by the magnitude and volume of work that skateboarding puts out to represent itself. I want them to read names and know that it is a vast collection of cultural contributors who helped progress and define the culture. I would love for some of the people from this specific era to get their shine (Dan Wolfe and Jon Holland specifically) and then I would love for skaters of all ages to see the focus we put on crafting meaningful work and then see all of these other videos that are a part of the same conversation. The best thing would be to feel the effort and the vision of each of these works, then write down and take pictures of all the other box covers that you haven’t seen or are curious about. I guess I would hope that VCR sales go through the roof and that I get an invitation to another exhibit in a few years.
Skate videos bring people together, sometimes in the theater watching it, definitely in the streets filming it and always in the editing bay making it. That cultural and personal connection is core to my experience with Mike and that communal feeling comes through in the exhibit. I want people to feel the harmony of it and I want Mike to be proud. I know he is.
Left: Jake, Carl Hyndman, and the Ternasky's on their wedding day 1993. Middle: Mike's business card. Right: Michaela Ternasky-Holland and Jake. All photos courtesy Rosenberg.
MICHAELA TERNASKY-HOLLAND
Hi Michaela, how did you get involved with this exhibit?
MTH: Throughout the time that Jacob and I have known each other, we have always tossed around ideas of how to honor my father’s legacy and work. There have been brainstorms that range from documentaries to installations. Earlier this year Jacob mentioned that in order to submit my father’s films to the Library of Congress we would need to find a museum to screen the films. This sparked an idea for me because at the beginning of 2023 I worked with the Museum of the Moving Image to create an exhibit that highlighted a virtual reality experience.
I floated the idea to screen the Plan B trilogy to Austin, Barbara, and Dánae at the Museum of the Moving Image. After initial conversations with Jake and the Museum of the Moving Image team the original idea quickly expanded into the comprehensive deep dive exhibition into skate filmmaking from the late ‘80s through the ‘90s with surrounding programming and screenings of certain skate films.
Yourself and Jacob are obviously uniquely positioned to shed light on your father’s contributions to the evolution of the skate video. Can you run through your connection to Jacob through the years?
Uncle Jake has been a massive part of my life since I turned eighteen. Becoming an adult allowed me to leave home and move to Southern California. I broke the limited contact that we had previously had and was able to freely build a deeper relationship with him and his family.
Jake, Michaela and Rodney Mullen at the premiere of Plan B True in 2014. Photo: Hundreds/Brink
Jake was the reason I even knew about my father’s skate films. During our first meeting he showed me the outtakes from the Pat Duffy lipslide in the rain, and it was the first time I could remember hearing my father’s voice or seeing him on video. In my early twenties, Jake would be the first person I called when I was in either celebration or crisis. He became a pseudo father to me, and then morphed into a life mentor. He was the one who encouraged me to start therapy. He exposed me to bomb food and the idea of treating yourself. When it felt like no one in my immediate family accepted the idea that I was queer and dating a woman, Jake encouraged me to pursue my happiness.
Throughout the years, our relationship has been defined by emergency calls, amazing food adventures, and tough conversations. As Jake and I continue to grow as people, so too does our relationship. Working on this exhibition has been an incredible milestone together, because it is the first time we both are utilizing our separate strengths as equals. There truly is no Recording the Ride without both Michaela Ternasky-Holland and Jake Rosenberg. It isn’t just a testament to our names but also our journey together as two beings connected deeply through the grief of losing some one like Mike Ternasky.
What do you think made your father love creating skate media so much?
That’s a great question! Looking at the ephemera of my father’s life and speaking to people who knew him is the only way I can get to know him. When I review the stories and the objects, I find a trail of excellence and achievements. In short, my dad never did anything half-heartedly. I think my dad got a kick out of making films, because it was a way to immortalize the artistry of his skaters. He was also a master marketer, so he knew a video was a way to broaden the reach of his company and the skaters he had on his roster.
Do you have a favorite video part or moment that he made?
I have a few!
• When Danny (Way) skates the handrail in the apartment during Shackle Me Not.
• Rodney (Mullen)'s part in Questionable. I love the choice of music - "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong.
• The opening montage for Virtual Reality, because I know Jake had a really important vision for that section.
What did you learn over the course of creating this exhibit?
Honestly, what didn’t I learn?! Because of the way I was raised, my only connection to and knowledge of skate filmmaking was Plan B and the trilogy of films my father was a part of. This project has been a crash course in both the history of skate filmmaking and the people who actively work to preserve it. I am so honored by everyone who has been a part of supporting and/or lending to the Recording the Ride exhibition. It is an amazing community, and I am humbled to be a small part of it.
Does the process help you connect with your father and his broader legacy?
Definitely! Over the last decade, I have slowly been immersing myself in my dad’s life. There has been so much to discover. Skateboarding is only a small piece of his whole life, even if it is the place he is most widely recognized. As an immersive and interactive storyteller, creating Recording the Ride is the most genuine way that I can express myself as a steward of his legacy and work. There are small moments, like when Jake and I sat together and watched all three videos together, which was something we had never done. There are also huge moments. This exhibit allowed me to revisit all of my dad’s personal belongings with a totally different lens. This time, I didn’t just look, I also took, not only for the exhibit but also for myself. Now I proudly wear a few shirts that were my father’s, as well as display more photographs of him throughout my apartment.
Lastly, meeting skate filmmakers that knew, respected, or were inspired by my father has been an extra special experience for me. In my day-to-day life, people often interact with me as Michaela Ternasky-Holland, it is not often that people meet me within the context of being Mike Ternasky’s daughter. I love sitting with these people and hearing their stories about my dad, or their relationship with his films.
Keenan Milton (RIP) filmed by Aaron Meza in 1998 for The Chocolate Tour. Photo: Blabac
Barbara Miller, Lead Curator MoMI
Hi Barbara. Are you guys pretty much ready to go with this?
BM: Right now we are going into intense final week of installation. The mental work has happened but now it is time to implement all of that and shape the space.
Any experiences with skateboarding in your life prior to this exhibit?
No. Not at all. This has been an amazing way to dive into skate culture—through the literal lens of the skate video. Just to see what an incredibly prominent role that the skate video plays in the culture at large. To have the opportunity to unpack that history for people and to honor it by showing the foundational videos and having the artifacts that show how they were made.
I guess in some ways it’s kind of perfect that you didn’t have experience with it because it then forces Jake and everyone on our side (the skate media and skaters) that is already very knowledgeable to make the exhibit translate to someone who has never heard of this.
I think that’s exactly right. For myself, I’m working closely with Jacob and Michaela to make something that the general public will understand. Not just in terms of understanding the insider language but also that they understand the importance of the genre. From the museum side, just being able to understand this as a genre that doesn’t really conform to any other.
What was you initial reaction to a museum exhibit based around VHS skate videos?
Honestly, to me it made perfect sense. In terms of our purview at the Museum of the Moving Image, we are always looking to tell these really interesting fine-grain stories about different mediums. So in a way, the exhibit is also about the rise of relatively affordable video cameras, VHS players and the circulation of VHS tapes as it is about skate culture. The technology and the affordable access to that technology sort of created the methodology that led to the community. We describe it in the exhibition as almost a proto-social media where these skate tapes—not only the ones that were released—but also the ones that were dubbed with many videos on one tape and then handed down through the skate community and essentially tied it all together.
Tape formats circa '84 -'00: VHS (A dubbed hand-me-down), VHS-C, Hi-8, and MiniDV. Photo: ME
Jacob and Michaela’s story (and their relationship to her father Mike) also feels like an important subplot. How would you describe that very human story within the wider focus on skate video evolution?
That’s a great question. Jacob and Michaela came to us with a general idea of recognizing Mike (Ternasky)’s role and maybe organizing screenings around Questionable, Virtual Reality, and Second Hand Smoke—specifically unpacking Mike’s legacy with H-Street and Plan B. I think we saw that there was a wider story to tell and blew it up from there. But we definitely wanted to honor the original idea—that MT stayed front and center. When you enter the exhibit, you will see different teams and videos; we are highlighting about twelve videos, then we have an installation within that exhibition space that’s more of a fine-grained look at the Plan B videos and the team. So we are really combining this detailed look at Mike T and Plan B within the wider range that starts with The Bones Brigade Video Show (’84) and goes all the way to Birdhouse The End (’00).
As skateboarders we constantly like to tell ourselves that what we are is very unique. As an outsider looking in do you think we are as unique as we believe?
I would agree that much of the culture is quite unique. I think there is definitely a unique perspective just with street skating. To me, what is so interesting and provocative is the way skaters look at public architecture and basically map themselves onto it. It’s a really different way of looking at space and moving your body through that space. That one facet alone is incredibly unique in my opinion. Skateboarders’ relationships with each other also strike me as intense and beautiful—almost like recognizing a kindred spirit.
Tim Dowling films Guy Mariano's NBD SSBTS on a handrail in Vancouver as Jody Morris shoots a photo from the other side (TWS Nov. 1995). Tim's footage (screengrabs on the right) ended up in Las Neuve Vidas de Paco (1995).
What was the most difficult part for you as the lead curator?
Cutting the story down I suppose was the hardest part. There were definitely videos that we would have liked to present to that we just didn’t have space for. There were some very hard decisions made, not wanting to leave any team, video, or person of importance out. Also just collecting all the objects—this part was actually very fun—at MoMI we have what we call a “material culture collection”. We get cameras, artifacts, videotapes, and all these things that have been sitting in boxes for years and can now tell these stories. So that part was challenging but also very fun.
You guys sort of decided to focus only on VHS and not including DVDs. I read that one metric was that once you could skip parts on a DVD the old format was over?
I know that for Jacob that point has resonance. I think for me it comes down to the story we are telling, sort of an origin story where the visual language of this genre is being set over that decade. Having our primary constraint be VHS. This is the VHS era—it’s pre-digital, pre-internet and is just the circulation of these tapes through the community. It was almost a convenient way to show the rise of handycams in the mid-‘80s to the end of the VHS era around 2000.
Favorite skate video?
I’ll choose 3. There is an incredible excitement in Virtual Reality (’93) that I love. Knowing what was going on behind the scenes for Questionable (’92) makes that video come to life for me—knowing Jacob’s story and how significant the video was for the genre. Lastly, I get a tremendous amount of joy watching Video Days (’91).
For a non-skater those are three very good picks. Thanks for taking the time to understand and showcase our culture.
I appreciate getting to peak behind the curtain and be a part of it. I’m so happy that we were able to do this. Come see the exhibit!
Recording The Ride: The Rise of Street-Style Skate Videos
Museum of the Moving Image, NY, NY Sept. 7, 2024 - Jan.25, 2025
Location: Amphitheater Gallery
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Book Review: Read and Destroy / The Book of the Mag
Today is the day that the long-awaited RAD Magazine book officially releases worldwide. I was lucky enough to get an advance copy to check out and here were my two cents.
SKATEBOARDING THROUGH A BRITISH LENS ’78 TO ‘95
Book by Dan Adams / ACC Art Books
Cover: Eric Dressen at Dean Lane* by TLB in 1987
July 8, 2024 — St.Paul-de-Vence, France. Today is the day that the long-awaited RAD Magazine book officially releases worldwide. As you may be aware, Dan Adams, former designer at the mag and curator of the @readandestroy Instagram handle has been working diligently with Tim Leighton-Boyce, Paul Sunman, Wig Worland, Sebastian Palmer, Steve Douglas and a host of others to get this book released since at least 2018, when I interviewed him (https://www.skateboarding.com/photos/r-d-book-magazine) for TWS about the project. While the ’18 initiative ultimately failed to raise enough cash to get it to the finish line, in testament to Dan’s persistence and labo(u)r of love, the book will finally reach coffee tables worldwide this week.
I was lucky enough to get an advance copy to check out and here were my two cents (along with an exclusive sneak peek below). First off, I’m heavily biased as this magazine shaped much of my worldview growing up skating in Europe circa ‘87-’94. Two of my closest friends were British and the early ‘90s skate scene in France was very similar to the one developing in the UK. The best description of it being “against all odds.” The visuals alone hit me square in the sweet spot. The Nick Philip RAD logo and overall design aesthetic—cut and Xeroxed and in neon glory—personifies everything I love about DIY skate culture (ironically or perhaps fittingly Nick was a BMXer). Strictly from a design perspective, without even getting into the absolutely historic and beautiful skate photography, the book is a pure joy to flip through.
Broken down into four time-frames; 1978-1980 “The Routes to RAD”, 1980-1986 “Death & Rebirth”, 1987-1993 “In Full Colour”, and 1993-1995 “Phat & All That”, “Read and Destroy” chronicles the history of skateboard media in the UK and follows Tim Leighton-Boyce as he navigates from the “death of skateboarding” around ’77 and lack of any skateboard-focused magazines in Britain to the launch of RAD a decade later when it essentially takes over and converts BMX Action Mag into just that.
From there, Adams does an absolutely stellar job dissecting the peak newsstand glory days of RAD’s tenure, its wider impact and connectivity within the resurging scene, whilst name-checking and quoting some of our biggest heroes along the way. The final section covers Tim Leighton-Boyce and his team losing control of the title in ‘93, the short run of Phat (which for myself as a teenager with full-blown Big Brother fever was a favorite), and ultimately the post-TLB run of RAD with Wig Worland and Andy Horsley that would set the stage for the UK’s next bible—Sidewalk (’95-’15).
The book itself is massive—272 pages of gorgeous large-format 300 x 240mm, hard-bound history. I went into pretty deep detail with Dan in our previous ’18 interview, so I’d suggest reading that for more bits of trivia, factoids and historical context. But if I had to boil down what makes this book indispensable—beyond the amazing TLB story-arc, neon RAD visuals, and testament to so much hard work done by so many with the love of skateboarding as the only pay-off—the real nuclear cultural energy leaping off its pages—is the result of the near decade Dan spent combing through the photographers’ archives—painstakingly selecting exactly the right photos. Photos that may very well never have seen the light of day again or in some cases—ever, had Adams simply phoned this project in and scanned a few old mags. The photos will speak to you, whether you were a part of it then or not. The creativity, determination and passion are simply that infectious.
Buy this book today here: https://www.read-and-destroy-archive.com/.
Check the @readanddestroy Instagram for upcoming book launch events:
• July 11 — RAD Magazine Photo Exhibit & Book Launch, 6-9pm at Pure Evil Gallery in London.
• July 12 — RAD Book Signing with OG RAD staff, 6-9pm at Slam City Skates in London.
• July 13 — Custom Tee Printing Workshop with RAD designers, 11:30-1:30pm at Imprint Works in London. Exhibition open from 11-6pm. RAD Forum hosted by @scienceversuslife and @beeps1973, 3-6pm at MOTEL in London. After party from 7pm-1am at Horse and Groom Pub. Exhibit will remain open (at Pure Evil Gallery) 11-6pm until July 21.
• July 21 — Skate session all day starting at 11:00am at Crystal Palace Skatepark. Full details at @readanddestroy.
Rest in Peace: Gavin Hills 1966-1997
Rest in Peace: Tony Luckhurst 1977-2023
Huge thanks to Dan Adams, Tim Leighton-Boyce, Paul Sunman, Wig, Skin, Dobie, Stig, Ray Calthorpe, Simon Woodstock, Andy Horsely, Nick Philip, Jay Podesta and everybody who ever worked on this book or at RAD.
* Side note: I was stoked to see Dressen get the cover of this. I’m sure the decision to put an American pro on the cover was heavily debated. Regardless, I had also interviewed Eric about that same ’87 trip (when he shot the cover photo at Dean Lane) to England for the Slam City Skates site. Head there (https://blog.slamcity.com/dressen-southbank-1987/) if you want more background on that.
Exclusive Sneak Peek:
411VM 30-ish-Year Anniversary
I drove down past the Orange Curtain today to check out the 30-ish-year anniversary celebration of skateboarding’s original video magazine, 411. ‘30-ish’ because the first issue with Jeremy Wray on the cover was released 31 years ago in the summer of ’93. However, the operation—which later spawned On Video, 411 Snow, 411 Surf and at its peak had nearly 200 employees and a worldwide team of contributors—wasn’t really fully functional until early ’94.
I was invited down by Steve Douglas. Steve launched 411 in ’93 with Josh Friedberg, Paul Schmitt, and Chris Ortiz whilst running New Deal, Underworld Element, and Mad Circle; he also recently unveiled Sidewalk Distribution, born from the ashes of Dwindle’s collapse. enjoi has been revamped as Jacuzzi Unlimited; Bill Weiss’ Madness is now Opera; and Slappy Trucks are in there, too. Sidewalk also just announced the return of Steve Rocco to the skate industry, joining Douglas, Bod Boyle, Weiss, and Louie Barletta at their fledgling distribution project. Having made a small career for myself writing about Rocco through the years, Douglas lured me down to Costa Mesa with the promise of the new Sidewalk ‘SWD’ t-shirt, which is a knock-off of SMA’s old Rocco Division logo.
The day kicked off with a skate session at Costa Mesa Skatepark (formerly known as the Volcom Park) from 4:00 to 6:00pm. Having never skated the park, I took the opportunity to beat traffic and get there early. It offers your standard array of banks, bowls, and ledges; but the one tight-and-wide “Blender” (aka Neil) quarterpipe tucked in the park’s corner was immediately my hit of choice and a trip there is worth your time for that quarter alone.
Pivot fakie on the ‘Blender’ quarter by yours truly.
By 4:30, 411 founders, employees, stars, and affiliates began filtering in. Vern Laird arrived with Dan Corrigan, Chris Hiett and much of the Powell team in tow; Kevin Marks rolled up in the Lookbacklibrary van; Jeremy Wray and Pat Channita started skating the Euro Gap with a still impressive Ron Resurrection; Josh Friedberg rolled up and promptly heelflipped the gap. Meanwhile, Steve Douglas, Paul Schmitt, Bod Boyle, and Bill Weiss sauntered in and conversed with Steve Caballero, Miki Vukovich and Chris Ortiz in a patch of sun by the big bowl. I noticed a bearded gentleman with a hoody and sunglasses mingling with them too. Lookbacklibrary Kevin later clued me in to the fact that it was none other than Jeremy Henderson—SHUT NYC/London skate godfather and ‘70s/’80s legend.
By 6:30 we headed to Skullcandy’s offices a few blocks away (and near the location of the original 411 offices) to find a museum trove of artifacts and ephemera on display from the video magazine’s two-decade run—classic VHS boxes, ¾ tape editing bays, VX cameras, 411 and On Video T-shirts and merchandise, and every cover of every issue hung in chronological order around the room.
Douglas, Ortiz, Friedberg, and Schmitt then sat for a Q&A moderated by Rob Brink. Skate nerd highlights: Mark Gonzales was supposed to be the cover boy and featured part for the first issue, but decided against it at the last minute as he wasn’t sure about video magazines yet. J-Wray stepped in as his replacement and the rest is history. (Gonz later appeared on the cover of Issue 6.)
Chris Ortiz also shared that it was through his aunt that worked at MCA Records that they got rights to near-endless free music. 411 soundtracks were extremely influential, with Guru’s Jazzmatazz; Souls of Mischief’s “93 ‘til Infinity” in the Back to the City contest segment; Paul Simon’s “Obvious Child” in that one South Africa éS tour; or even Tom Petty’s “Running Down a Dream” in On Video’s opening montage. Hearing about Ortiz’s back door to the music industry explained how they got the rights to those kinds of hits.
Of course, there can be no mention of music and 411 without bringing up the opening “dun dun dun dun…” jingle that every skater on the planet hoped to get a slow-motion clip to. Josh Friedberg explained, “You can blame me or thank me for that.”
After Douglas told Josh he wanted a “Cheers” like song to start each video, Josh had randomly received a DAT (Digital Audio Tape) from one of the sales guys at New Deal (Ken Wood) who’s band called Sol had recorded a song called “The Boxcar”. Josh laid the percussion/horns intro to that song over the very first openers in Issue 1 and the formula was set.
Josh Friedberg explains how the 411 intro song came to be.
As far as the rationale for starting 411, Douglas explained that he was in a London pub one day in ’93 with former R.A.D. Magazine editor Tim Leighton-Boyce right as Big Brother was changing the print landscape with printed video grabs of the latest tricks instead of photo sequences. They looked at the video grabs and wondered, “What will Rocco do next?” TLB apparently became convinced Rocco had a plan to start a video magazine. Believing TLB’s prediction, Douglas decided they would beat Rocco to the punch and make one of their own.
After racing to devise 411, they ultimately realized Rocco hadn’t thought of that. But once everybody found out about 411, skate media quickly changed, with Thrasher (who went as far as firing Ortiz), Transworld, and later Digital, Logic, Progression, Puzzle, and Big Brother all creating video offerings, too.
411 also broke ground by showcasing international skate scenes—something some in the industry were not happy with; they felt it flooded the industry with “no-namers” and diluted the careful marketing of a select few California pros. With Steve Douglas coming from England and Josh Friedberg coming from Kansas, they both felt an obligation to shine a light back on those not fortunate enough to be in sunny CA. They went as far as sending VX cameras and death lenses—free of charge—to filmers around the planet, launching the careers of filmers like like French Fred, Ewan Bowman, Anthony Claraval, Colin Kennedy, and many more.
As the night wound down and I made chit-chat with many of the people I have been fortunate enough to spend the past two decades working with, I was struck by how deep a connection many of us have to 411. During my teenage years and early twenties, I must have watched these videos hundreds or even thousands of times. Thirty(ish) years after I bought Issue 1 at Skateworks in Santa Cruz on my summer vacation, I’d like to give heartfelt thanks to Steve, Josh, Ortiz, Paul, and everyone who ever worked on 411.
I also got the Sidewalk Distribution t-shirt Douglas promised me right before driving back up to LA. Now, let’s sit back and wait to see what the creators of 411 do when they’re actually on the same team as Rocco. “What will Rocco do next?” Go get your popcorn.