Beyond The Board is a personal project investigating the subculture of skateboarding.
The motivations and misconceptions behind a timeless rebel sport.
Joey, 16.
With his whole generation beside him, Kooper came to skateboarding via Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 4.
The game's punk soundtrack - The Dead Kennedys, Agent Orange and The Misfits, also crafted his wider identity. Once Koop tuned to the punk frequency, he dove further into thundering stoner rock, embracing the D.I.Y spirit along the way. He soon began altering and making his own clothes in tribute to his newfound lifestyle.
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Originally a surfer from NSW, Kooper prefers skating's diverse community and says it changed him for the better.
"It may not be a team sport, but you've got a team with you at all times, he reflects.
"It's opened my eyes to be friends with anyone. Even if you're very different, that's who your real friends are. Even if you're complete opposites, you look at each other like 'fuck being alive without this.' It just makes you grateful for having that sport in your life."
Troy was raised on punk, has a D.I.Y haircut and rides a 9-inch skateboard.
"I keep a broad smile and I try to do things that sometimes don't necessarily line up with 'traditional skateboarding.' I'm very open to weird ideas. I like dumb skateboarding tricks like no complies and wallies.
I think skateboarding should be whatever you want it to be."
Dev, and the scar he received from bombing a hill while drunk.
Harry, 25.
Skip, 25.
Xavier, 14.
Estelle, 13, is a fearless skater about to make waves in the Melbourne scene. She came to my shoot with her mum, who was continually impressed by her daughter’s courage on four wheels. “
Skating is 90% commitment,” Estelle earnestly tells me before jumping down several stairs.
Colin is Indonesian, grew up in Malaysia, and has lived in Canada. His parents owned a pharmaceutical company so he moved around a fair bit.
He often skates in Melbourne with friends he met at an international school.
"I don't know what I would have done without skateboarding," Sam proclaims with a ready smile.
He says skating kept him from temptations that seduced others in his hometown.
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"Sometimes I feel a little bit guilty that a lot of my friends did fall victim to that sort of stuff, and I wondered for a long time why I got out of it. I think it's because I had so many interests that weren't in front of me." the bushy-haired beatnik reflects.
When school fell short, Sam's brain took him elsewhere. He was inspired by skating's "do it yourself" ethos. The young radical moved to Melbourne at just 17. He also honours his father's influence.
"Ever since I was a kid, I was interested in alternative lifestyles. My dad was a hot-rodder, so he was into making weird cars, and he encouraged me to do things for myself."
With wood, steel and rubber as his medium, Sam continues to express his singularity. He leaps into improvised stunts, vintage board grabs, flatland flips and freestyle twirls.
A flower child in the Tik-Tok era, Sam's freak flag is at full mast. From beaded necklace to patched trousers, his hippy spirit lives in the physical. But as we chat under Moreland overpass, Sam's unfaked sincerity is most compelling.
"I just like to hang out with my friends, do a couple of weird tricks and smile. That's skateboarding."
Nic's skate shoes are a pair of weathered Doc Martens. He has the same moustache as his great-grandfather and says his skateboarding style is inspired by, precisely, no one. Nic doesn’t have a favourite skater or watch skate videos, but loves doing the accurately named hard-flips because “they just make sense to him.”
He recently completed his first science fiction novel.
“People who want to go to heaven, choose religion. People who have been through hell, choose spirituality. Which one are you?”
Gregory proposed this question when we first met. After replying that I didn’t know, I asked the 22-year-old the same thing. He answered immediately - “I’ve been to hell. I had a psychotic breakdown. I saw angels and a demon. It was hard. Very hard."
“I’m always on the brink of tipping over. That’s the way I skate. I’m known for slamming and getting hurt, but I always get back up and go again.”
Anja moved to Sydney from Sweden, 15 years ago. She won a gold medal in boxing at the Commonwealth Games and has reached similar emotional highs while skateboarding.
"I try to be creative with everything I do. I love looking good when I skateboard. I see the whole thing as a creative expression and an exploration of what I can do, what I can teach my body to do and what I can push through," she says.
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"There's just this freedom when I go on the board. It attracts a certain kind of person. It's not just about being on the board either, you can be yourself, you can do it however you want to do it. Everyone learns in different ways, they learn different tricks in different orders, they take their own path."
"I'm scared every single time I go skateboarding, but something about it has captured me. I look at other people doing it, and then I think "I can do that too, if I just practice enough." And nothing's for free in skateboarding, there's this innate respect, where people know that if you know certain things, you've spent time on the board," the 34-year-old attests.
"I've thought about this a lot, because it's strange, I haven't been around skateboarders until recently. It's about the creative expression but it's also maybe about your inner self. It sounds kind of corny, but I think everyone that skates is scared, but they do it anyway and the stakes are so high because you can get hurt. I'm scared every single time I go skateboarding."
"I tore my ACL boxing and I've been representing Australia for the past six years. I've recently retired but after I tore my ACL, I had to qualify and it was just two months afterwards. I qualified without reconstruction surgery and then I had five months to recover for the actual tournament. Learning to tail stall on a ramp, I was as happy as I was winning gold. Everything is relative to the effort you put into it or whatever your experience is. Everyone thinks that success has to be something grand, but I think success is so relative to where you are in your life and what you put into that moment."
Richard informs me that blindness is a spectrum.
"I'm more comfortable on a skateboard than walking down the street," he says.
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People often assume anyone with more than 0% eyesight is “faking it.” As a pedestrian with a cane, Rich is stopped by strangers who question his vision. But when he’s skating, he’s just another person trying to land a trick.
Rich has been losing his vision since he was diagnosed with the genetic condition Retinitis Pigmentosa (or RP) in 2018. The 32-year-old has a declining 10% eyesight and a host of physical issues.
"When I first got diagnosed, it was like okay, 'vision loss,' what does that mean? What can somebody do with that? Then I saw the American blind skater Dan Mancina, and it was like 'holy shit, I can still do something."
Primarily a BMX rider with an appreciation for skate culture, Rich had to relearn skateboarding as his eyesight faded.
"I started skating again with blindness. If anybody out there is like 'I can do that too,' then that's the ultimate goal," he says.
"It's about showing people you can learn things again from scratch, and you can almost be better at it. I'm probably skating better than I ever have been. I'm doing it with more purpose, with more attention to detail."
Rich uses his cane while skateboarding. As he approaching objects, he taps ahead and uses the few seconds remaining to decide whether he needs to jump, grind or change course.
"For me, style is everything. I can't see what I look like when I skate. I feel everything out and I just want it to feel good."
Pre-blindness Rich was a highly visual person. He worked as a graphic designer and had a love of fashion. Inspired by 90s skate brands and East Coast hip-hop, he's the best dressed blind person you'll meet.
"As weird as it sounds, I'm my most authentic self right now. It's taken 32 years to get there. But doing this and being "a blind skater," I guess that's who I am. Everyone is trying to find where they fit in, to find an identity or whatever. I've been down that many roads and different phases, and this just makes sense."
"I'm blessed to have the lifestyle I do. At the cost of sight, I get to live out that skate dream. It's just skating every day, seeing the homies and hanging out."
Lowani has a quiet confidence. Coming from Zambia, the 22-year-old says skateboarding helped fuel his self-discovery.
Also a dancer and a DJ, Lowani skates in his zone - listening to R&B or wearing an arm-band in tribute to Michael Jackson.
Pookie is tenderly stepping back onto a skateboard. Seven years ago, she tore her ACL and knee ligaments. In a high-speed calamity, Pookie flew off her board while riding a steep hill... in bare feet. Traumatic lesson learnt, she's gently returning to four wheels.
Despite her eventful past, Pookie's a lifelong chiller. I met her basking under an amber sunset. Music is Pookie's meditation, and she says skateboarding invokes a similar peace. In 2021, she's enjoying her comeback and slowly improving - all over again.
All photos and editorial by Jimmy Ness.
ABOUT this project
Skateboarding is a potpourri of personality; a vibrant mosaic of flavour and style. The wild, weird and wonderful.
These stories are based on conversations with strangers. Beyond The Board is fuelled by their collaboration.
Learn more about the project here.