The most common reaction people give when they hear the popping of skateboards coming down the street is generally one of indifference, almost tolerance, sometimes disgust at the absurdity of it all. Why do skateboarders waste their time jumping down stairs and messing up otherwise clean marble ledges, and for what conceivable purpose? They run the risk of the cops slapping a hefty fine on them (as is now the case for skating at Knightrider court, near St. Pauls cathedral) and serious bodily injury.
So why do we do it? Because skating is a great medium, for transport or fun, and it offers an increasingly dynamic versatility in its essential territory the city. As we progress down the street, ledges, stairs, rails, banks and kerbs all take on another meaning. An isolated bench, a retaining wall dismissed and ignored by other city-dwellers all such crannies come into their own when a skater notices them. A sharp skater can make even the most mundane kerb or speed bump into an impressive obstacle to launch into a multitude of tricks. It keeps your eyes open and makes you aware of your surroundings while both skating and chilling, thus perpetuating the process that helps you skate.
Skating, especially round London, is chiefly centred on the South Bank and I guarantee that if you go there over the weekend, an altogether astonishing spectacle will greet you: literally hundreds of skaters, ranging from little kids with elbow and knee pads helped by mum to stand on the board, to the pros of the skating industry popping tricks down the stairs under the Festival Hall (known as the South Bank Seven).
Anyone who has been there would agree that there is only one word to describe such a scene: chaos. The noise and movement of such a multitude of skaters is terrifying; and yet I wonder what the area round South Bank would be like without skaters? Ive walked past at night and it has seemed like a cavernous, gaping hole, built into the side of the South Bank complex. No one walks through it, preferring to take the longer route along the river. There is nothing there that is of any interest, no landmarks, just a set of stairs, some railings and a couple of banks. To a skateboarder, these represent the building blocks of skating encompassed into a neat package, sheltered from rain and away from the prying eyes of the public and police.
Hence, the South Bank has become synonymous with London skating and has featured in many magazines and videos round the world. I have met skaters from as far afield as France and Japan who have come to skate the hallowed halls of South Bank; yet outside the sphere of skating, not many would associate the South Bank with anything but its abject ugliness.
Repossessing the city
The same conception exists across the whole of London and especially in the City. The Corporation of London has, over the years, built a host of beautiful and awe-inspiring buildings that have then been turned over to investment banks and discount houses, filled with nine-to-fivers but otherwise deserted in the evenings and weekends. Thus, the City is forlorn and empty, awaiting the bankers to return to their jobs on Monday morning. Yet the skaters eagerly wait in anticipation for these besuited workers to stagger home on Friday night, since the wealth of waiting obstacles is overwhelming. Ice-smooth pavements and desolate roads, fine marble ledges and kerbs, perfectly inclined banks all such features are invitations to skate well worth the risks.
Yet, while the City is associated with gleaming marble and a sparkling aura, spots across London and the country as a whole would normally be regarded as eyesores, lacking in style and finesse. Think of the Brunswick Centre, opposite Russell Square tube station, which has long been lamented as perhaps the worst housing block in Central London. The hulks of concrete seem misplaced and confused, almost as though the chief engineer couldnt decide where to spend the rest of his budget. Yet skaters see this place in a different light. The misshapen blocks, contorted stairs and hulking air-vents are for skaters an enchanted landscape, with the quirky lines open only to the most imaginative and innovative.
So the City of London has more to offer than shopping on Oxford Street and clubbing in Soho. Building on strengths gained through patient practice, skaters are using the quietly intoxicating raw material of the urban environment to achieve higher levels of excellence. Behind the parade of gleaming, empty façades that central London has become, young urban people are giving new meaning to ordinary street-side kerbs, parks and squares, and in the process creating themselves and repossessing their global, local city.
