Street Plant is a seed grown from three decades of “failure” in the skateboard business.
Some plants are cultivated in a garden, they’re brought water, tended, given everything by caring hands.
Those plants grow fastest, but when they bear fruit, those same “caring” hands are the ones harvesting the crop
Taking what was grown for themselves.
Street Plant is not a blossom grown in a garden.
It’s a weed that’s been cast out.
A seed that grows even after its been stomped in the dirt.
A sprout pushing up from beneath the sidewalk, pushing through the cracks and breaking them open.
No tending hands to feed it —
It’s a seed grown from pure light and nourished by the deepest roots.
It’s small, it’s got sharp thorns, it’s hard to kill.
But when it bears fruit those fruit will not be plucked for someone else’s harvest. That fruit will drop to the ground as seeds.
Seeds to spread in darkened parking lots as boomboxes play full volume and wheels bark at full speed.
This is a sowing that can only be reaped by seeking what skateboarding can give, not what it can get you.
Street Plant is about planting your feet and standing firm when the only thing that’s got your back is a dead end brick wall.
The seed that grows from failure: failure to get along and get over.
Failure to grow straight and predictable in neat rows with all the other vines waiting to get plucked.
Failure to be a “smart businessman” by refusing to make an act of love into a commodity.
This is not business. It’s personal.
As personal as answering every e-mail.
As personal as showing up in your driveway and saying “let’s skate”.
Street Plant’s roots go deep, back into simple times when pushing limits and creating didn’t pay dividends you could deposit in a checking account.
But Street Plant is not about the past.
It’s about the never ending now.
It’s about a fight that never ends because it’s a fight we love: The fight to create. This is the battle fought in every hour spent charging some bit of ignored architecture in order to keep all the shit in life at bay.
It’s about holding it together by tearing something apart:
A bit of wood, some aluminum and urethane.
Riding a skateboard is not about getting from point a to point b.
It’s about riding hard to that never seen place that belongs to us.
Even when that trip doesn’t last any longer than the infinitesimal moment
when metal scrapes concrete.
It’s about using a skateboard as a crowbar to forcibly pry out a space to belong…
In a world where you don’t fit.
The weed that won’t die.
The fight that won’t stop.
The session that never ends.