Article and Photography by Adam Jaenke
Above: Cyril Jackson
Living in the burbs, I’ve often noticed that once something closes down – be it a bank, a fast food joint, or a department store, its rarely resurrected to look the same as it once did before. Build something new, watch it thrive, let it die and decay, bring out the bulldozers, and repeat. That’s how they do it out here. It’s a healthy business, birth and dying. There’s a lot of money to be made, and that’s why the suburbs are as soulless as the Wal-Marts that litter their land. But on the rare occasion that something is left for the vultures, there is always a chance that someone will reclaim the space and make it their own.
Above: Dale Hendricks
That’s what happened on a desolate stretch of land bordering train tracks in Brookpark, Ohio. The foundation of a building that once produced light bulbs lays beneath a stretch of power lines that move into the distance clear to the horizon. Blackberry bushes line the edges, deer move stealthily through the tall grass, and the sounds of skateboards cracking the cement shoot through the air. On any given day, you’ll see Anthony Koch, Dan Gaspar or Ryan Kral resuscitating the giant slab of cement with metal railings, parking blocks, and even more cement. They’re masons and artists, shaping man’s forgotten waste into something useful, something vital. If someone won’t do it for you, then it’s time to get off your ass and do it yourself. And for the time being, that DIY attitude is paying off quite nicely for skateboarders around Cleveland.
That’s what is so admirable about skateboarding. No matter how corporate and mainstream it becomes with energy drink commercials, the X-Games, and Tony Hawk, there’s also people like Dan, Anthony, and Ryan who are keeping the original intent and spirit of skateboarding alive. No sponsors, no filming schedules, no worries—only free will to do what’s wanted and the enjoyment of something mutually created.
Above: Adam Aziz
Who knows how long the place will last. It’s on a piece of land that’s indefinitely in limbo. Maybe it’s the power lines, or maybe the trains that blaze by only 80 feet away that keep it vacant—but none of that matters. What matters right now – Saturday afternoons with the grill blazing and friends shredding, and weekdays with a toolbox and a pickup truck. These guys exist to express themselves and create. They make situations a little easier, whether you’re in the city or out in the burbs. They are artists, they are punk rock. They’re doing their thing and making some of our lives a little easier, one nail at a time.
Above: Ryan Kral
