Salute to the Real: PEPE MARTINEZ   To the casual observer, Pepe’s magic at Pulaski was a pious offering with really only 20 publicized and recorded tricks. He was not a filmer’s skater and he only really put out one part if you can call it that. In fact, his visible accomplishments focuses on the lesser known aspects of (pep’s) oeuvre. But, and this is a big but, his signature style consisted of a much overlooked yet right in front of your face part of skating, the push,hence in a world where idol status is questionable, especially in skateboarding, the gods unanimously proclaimed Pepe’s push the most pleasurable. I showed some Pepe clips to some new skaters at a spot once, it didn’t speak to them, but what do they know? Their idea of a good skater in Jaws.

   The abominable snowman of current skateboarding,  chez Jason Dill, would probably say the same. Then as now, Pepe was a sentinel in bringing about a feeling of decadence, dashing, and direct example conveying the idea as Jason put it” How skating ought to look”. So be prepared to fight if you don’t agree with his stature as one of the best  90’s skaters. An unbiased opinion would be: second only to Joey Bast, who wore Nautica windbreaker kits and skated Market St. Blocks with the best of them.  When I think of  Pepe Martinez, which is very often, I am instantly overcome not by memories, but by an oozing of style left behind on Pulaski’s marble ledge edging that surrounds it’s rectangle shaped design. The main ledge still has a thin film of the glide of his wheels, still there, almost like a mass particle cluster of his energy, invisible on the plaza where he used to land technically devastating movements of body. Some people would call watching him skate a matter of inspiration, I just call it fuel. And, when it comes to fuel. I am a serious consumer. Pepe was one of God’s own prototypes. taking style to a high powered mutant level.  You could never consider him for mass production and therefor be mass consumerist cash cow ala Dylan Reider. If you ever saw Pepe in his final years , he was fashion forward and a more tailored snappy garb, than young Reider of today. 

He is bespoke, an example of what it really meant to hold the dreams of children. riding a passageway,if not trail blazing, while he opened the door to his city so everyone else could pass thru. Too rare to live in that world of spotlighted to the point of being bland, the Washington DC beltway was the perfect incubator to hone his skills ,hence it was an easy parlay to the next stages of development in his skating on time and in accordance with his same age peers i.e.,Koston, Kalis, Creager. Yet, what Pepe was doing trickwise was a mystery as DC had been veiled in a sliver lining of impresario. Like the great Sphinx, nobody knew the exact path Pepe took to get to the level of the stylishness, arguably championed on either coast.  His excellent command of the English language with three simple words on his Slap cover,”DC, go Hard!” sums it up. Now, with the current generation that has no interest in the preserving of names from the past. Pepe’s legacy is practically an invalid, bearing not even one image on google. Almost lost, not forgotten hopefully . Do I think its a good thing that Pepe with all that he was and all that he wanted to be, with all that was on his mind at the time of his last days, ed.note- he had brain cancer with the prognosis of a youthful death and never told anyone to bum them out, becomes a legend, a real presence in what went down in the 90’s……..hell yes. ed note: the pulaski phone- back in the late 90’s. cell phones existed, but if you wanted skate with the crew that came downtown to the fort Pulaski, from about 1pm to 6pm there was this grey area of time where you might  get left in the lurch, this was not condoned as most didn’t want to make the uneducated guess of grudging thru suburb traffic only to find their would be no one there skating or that the spot was locked down, this was due to tailgating theatre uptight patrons from across the street eating their lunch on the main ledge who had the park police on speed dial if you came up on the plaza. But like an old buddhist saying goes,"If you patiently wait on the riverbanks, you will see the body of your enemy eventually float by" So a lot of people just skated flat in front of Gus’s Stand or the starbucks, to kill time till the full-on pulaski session which commenced at dusk most days.(202)452-???? what ever I can’t remember the last four numbers, but I do remember calling that shit just to see who was downtown skating at Pulaski. When someone picked up, It was always a kind of magical roll of the dice. Pepe called the phone once. Long live pay phones and Pepe

1999 Pulaski Loc. Johny 

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Salute to the Real: PEPE MARTINEZ


      To the casual observer, Pepe’s magic at Pulaski was a pious offering with really only 20 publicized and recorded tricks. He was not a filmer’s skater and he only really put out one part if you can call it that. In fact, his visible accomplishments focuses on the lesser known aspects of (pep’s) oeuvre. But, and this is a big but, his signature style consisted of a much overlooked yet right in front of your face part of skating, the push,hence in a world where idol status is questionable, especially in skateboarding, the gods unanimously proclaimed Pepe’s push the most pleasurable. I showed some Pepe clips to some new skaters at a spot once, it didn’t speak to them, but what do they know? Their idea of a good skater in Jaws.
   The abominable snowman of current skateboarding,  chez Jason Dill, would probably say the same. Then as now, Pepe was a sentinel in bringing about a feeling of decadence, dashing, and direct example conveying the idea as Jason put it” How skating ought to look”. So be prepared to fight if you don’t agree with his stature as one of the best  90’s skaters. An unbiased opinion would be: second only to Joey Bast, who wore Nautica windbreaker kits and skated Market St. Blocks with the best of them.
    When I think of  Pepe Martinez, which is very often, I am instantly overcome not by memories, but by an oozing of style left behind on Pulaski’s marble ledge edging that surrounds it’s rectangle shaped design. The main ledge still has a thin film of the glide of his wheels, still there, almost like a mass particle cluster of his energy, invisible on the plaza where he used to land technically devastating movements of body. Some people would call watching him skate a matter of inspiration, I just call it fuel. And, when it comes to fuel. I am a serious consumer. Pepe was one of God’s own prototypes. taking style to a high powered mutant level.  You could never consider him for mass production and therefor be mass consumerist cash cow ala Dylan Reider. If you ever saw Pepe in his final years , he was fashion forward and a more tailored snappy garb, than young Reider of today. 

He is bespoke, an example of what it really meant to hold the dreams of children. riding a passageway,if not trail blazing, while he opened the door to his city so everyone else could pass thru. Too rare to live in that world of spotlighted to the point of being bland, the Washington DC beltway was the perfect incubator to hone his skills ,hence it was an easy parlay to the next stages of development in his skating on time and in accordance with his same age peers i.e.,Koston, Kalis, Creager. Yet, what Pepe was doing trickwise was a mystery as DC had been veiled in a sliver lining of impenetration. Like the great Sphinx, nobody knew the exact path Pepe took to get to the level of the stylishness, arguably championed on either coast.  His excellent command of the English language with three simple words on his Slap cover,”DC, go Hard!” sums it up. Now, with the current generation that has no interest in the preserving of names from the past. Pepe’s legacy is practically an invalid, bearing not even one image on google. Almost lost, not forgotten hopefully . Do I think its a good thing that Pepe with all that he was and all that he wanted to be, with all that was on his mind at the time of his last days, ed.note- he had brain cancer with the prognosis of a youthful death and never told anyone to bum them out, becomes a legend, a real presence in what went down in the 90’s……..hell yes.
ed note: the pulaski phone- back in the late 90’s. cell phones existed, but if you wanted skate with the crew that came downtown to the fort Pulaski, from about 1pm to 6pm there was this grey area of time where you might  get left in the lurch, this was not condoned as most didn’t want to make the uneducated guess of grudging thru suburb traffic only to find their would be no one there skating or that the spot was locked down, this was due to tailgating theatre uptight patrons from across the street eating their lunch on the main ledge who had the park police on speed dial if you came up on the plaza. But like an old buddhist saying goes,"If you patiently wait on the riverbanks, you will see the body of your enemy eventually float by" So a lot of people just skated flat in front of Gus’s Stand or the starbucks, to kill time till the full-on pulaski session which commenced at dusk most days.(202)452-???? what ever I can’t remember the last four numbers, but I do remember calling that shit just to see who was downtown skating at Pulaski. When someone picked up, It was always a kind of magical roll of the dice. Pepe called the phone once. Long live pay phones and Pepe

Hong Kong , Cellular

No Netlfix, House of Cards, Raymond Tusk in these here parts. Something a bit more tangible. Mai Rim Thailand May 2014 Cellular

Home is where you lay your hat. Mai Rim Thailand, May 21014 Cellular

You should check this out. Chris Martin comes thru with da illis, for Christies auction house. Was that job union Chris?

Rush Hour high above 42nd street, NY Jan. 2014

Freedom Plaza- the wait

6 words Fred doesn’t want to hear: tax evasion, garnished checks, bank levy

image

Gall

 noun \ˈgl\
1
a :  bileespecially :  bile obtained from an animal and used in the arts or medicine

 There comes a time in any man’s life when he needs to have made peace with all of the following: his aging body, the notion that you can’t fly standby the next day if you miss your flight, which was once possible 10 years ago, and the fact that Anthony Correa is never gonna rekindle the skate world with his presence. There is no reason to be cynical… now… is there, we still have uncle Freddy out there burning fumes.

… He was a philadelphia prodigal son. First Division days ,60mm. He drifted back and forth riding a silver lining floating on the milky way of the Alien camp during their certifiably long stronghold on a original image and talent in skating. Putting down ridiculously stylish switch llnes at love park ,ride on 50-50’s, and one cannot overlook the switch crooks photo at Hubba Hideout. His CV is long, with a pro career going even longer than some of our readers duration of lived life, he truly doesn’t give a fuck what season of life he is in. 

  Uncle Freddy identifies with the affairs of the world that are considered bad, or at least low-brow,but like the way he chooses to present himself, skating culture has always directed our gaze to the seedier side of things only to belt whip our temptations back if you really went your own way without displaying following to one shady proven formula. 

   Back to at hand matters, So Fred advertises himself in the best way he knows how. Kind of like Kelch in SF, Gordy in DC, or Alamar crip walking in LA, Fred needs the crutch of a beer and the expiring odor of vagrancy to keep his legacy out there. Yet, humor is the paramount catalyst in Gall’s work because it is the most accessible and malleable to the filter of what we call skateboarding which has come to being just one big youtube watch count.His dirts win attitude is a body of work which has spanned beyond some of today’s pros life span, a scenario that is likely to play itself out soon, tossing the torch of never ending one-up notch coverage to the the skate tastemakers who can properly part and wax their hair.

    When a skater like him is skating in person, it is nothing more than the direct result of all the skating that person has ever done, whether it be good or bad. If his viewers enjoy his skating half as much as he enjoyed filming it, it would be understated that his way of pushing down the street is ageless and the tricks he’s done are up there with the best dudes out. The ski-jump board fling to almost getting merked by a car shows his constant temperament, Careless Youth. In this 2 decade run of Freddy, he has arose to the occasion of SF’s biggest hills, casually sw ollieing the Post st street gap 15 years ago,some trickery in  some of New Jack city’s ghettoist neighborhoods, and, a heelflip at pulaski in the sub zero that would still be impressive by today’s standards, as well as a couple of other maneuvers I can’t think of off top. Now at the cusp of adulthood or prolonged youth, he is ready to take the next step in life, marriage. Ah!, he thought marriage meant iron bonds;it meant the end of freedom;and hither he had always troddened a careless path, hopping on many a jovial adventure,played his cards as a party tourist at many brothels the world over, and never submitting to the term “toe the line”.

     His lavish indulging of hookers and red light districts are well known. If strangers of the weaker sex were a drink,he’d drink them down to the last drop. Due to some expensive habits Freddy got to eat struggle burgers for a few meals in his life recently. Now and then a little voice in his head says, “Well, you got enough Gall to still be out there in the limelight, Why don’t you go to the orient for a few months, your getting stale.” With that he sees his destiny through, significance never eludes him fore courage is never lacking. A man may be storyteller, a loudmouth, a raged animal who emits foulness out of all orifices, who recites fabricated truths, but embedded in all that fiction and falsehood, there is a core truth.This man doesn’t merely mellow as the evenings wane and bottles are emptied. The rage of Frederic spits vemonous bile from the head orifice and pulls of his knickers as well as his shirt to get more comfortable while he is three sheets to the wind.Yet,  Fred Gall is a guardian angel on the shoulders of many a stranger. He has no doubt extended his hand in the game while staying in line with reckl`ess abandonment in himself. And yes, to him, it’s a game, moreover, which throws interesting characters across your path. However,Freddy still is magical on a board, proven thru a whirly hooded kickflip backside noseblunt that would make even Geraldo  proud.

   This newlywed urban homemaker wants his turf to have a casual anything goes approach but like his golden years, but to Freddy’s dismay, he married a eastern european  so the provider role must be a regal element of their matrimonial bliss… Here are a few tips for Fred and his new domesticated life.

  1.The Kitchen, in your Brooklyn love abode should be your first priority while planning space. It’s where conversations are made, romance is cooked up, and where knives are found when she wants to hurt you for ruining here life…

  2.  Next room to focus on is the bathroom. No washing your dick off in the sink when you bang some crash bandicoot at one of the southside drinking holes, those times are long gone. It’s time to get serious, chicks like strawberries,right? So they for sure like potpourri stuff too. Get some of that for the bathroom and buy toilet paper too.

3.   Almost all bedrooms waste space. Minimize this flaw by adequate planning and forethought. Since your used to sleeping morning hours, why not rent a basement or a loft with no windows to keep up appearances.

     Though he is not the worst husband in the world, not by a longshot, He stays loyal to at least one whip that dominated him, Habitat. Yet in the end as he comes to the end of the known habitated world, a disobedient “skuaaa” a novel way for describing in one blurted word, the sweat soaked, alcohol reeking„ impulsive, hormon driven, urgent pleasure seeking, twinkle in the eye fiending animal  who yells the call… that is Fred Gall.

When off the board, his rage for the unacceptance of the present moment prevails, the bars know his face whether it’s on the establishment’s welcome list or blacklist. At any local, with the mixture of scripts and alcohol, he doesn’t have the sense to clear out quick when most normal humans would see that there is little prospect in saving face. We has to shut the place down, in limitless fashion, money or built up tolerance will not stop him. 2 options only stand to his avail. It’s go home naked with his tail tucked between his legs publicly or privately.

Florida Keys -check

Tour of hemingways boat- check

get rad photo of Trice beach Cigar - check

Freeze driving back up north on motorcycle-check

Polaroid ,A young Dan Forkin,during filming of Rich Mahogany

2008,New York

Reese was Hufn steroids ,to Getz busy

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        Alex Olson recently commented on his boyhood reflections on experiencing Reese skate circa 2005-2008. The recountings were basically accolades to his prowess he perused the skate world with. To elaborate even further back, Reese was like a tall tale that had blown like a forrest fire thru the minds and memories of all the Pulaski locs when our generation started coming to Freedom plaza. “Oh, Reese tre flipped the black trash can on flat, while someone feebly tried to film a line with a kickflip over it” He pretty much left most of todays skaters portfolio of work to shame with their tails tucked in between their legs type shit. It was a few years later a first had witness of what this giant of a man could do. The guy was seriously resembled a minotaur, half-man half-horse. His ollies over things gently shifted full 90degrees shifty, absorbently folding his body not into some tweaked out japan back foot tucked motion that could be compared to a quick sting, admittedly his ollies were more pleasant to the human eye, it was an ollie that had a full swing of completeness like a baseball player hitting the sweet spot contact of ball to bat. Huf and Reese had a nice little flow going on in Dan Wolfe’s Closure. Another East Coaster that leaves somewhat more of an arid aftertaste in the mouths of many, is Kerry Getz. 

       Kerry Getz wasn’t a mentor of Alexy Olson’s or in his radar of favorites from a now dormant era of names that can only be remembered from the bright lcd window of a apple monitor open to youtube. Still in the mix, arguably (on the basis that he still has a board out on the market) With Getz, it was fast cars, angry fights with his 7-ply, which usually was demolished in a flurry of curse words and anger under the gum soles of his signature dvs’s (best shoe of 2006). It’s a fine line how you choose to communicate yourself, you can certainly do it thru advertisement, but you better be very disciplined on who your representing, how their representing you, and what message your really communicating. On that note he took an entrepreneurial roll by creating some iPhone time waster game where the lead hero skates and breaks boards. Good thing to teach the young gadget generation Kerry. But in hindsight ,when your from the Pennsyltuckie backwoods and have portrayed yourself for the last 10 years as a city cavalier„and lest we not forget a young KG  leaping across a rather large swamp ipanema in Tampa to ankle break in that Toy machine Video “Jump off a building” the best part of showing the youngbucks setback was the tidal wave of footage he compiled post injury, unshaken by the compound fracture of a mere broken ankle, he came back with the physical agility to execute nbd’s at love and that swank little prop up grate at Temple,  I guess you just look back and hope for a pristine career from your favorites. “never meet your heroes” Dill said. Four words held responsible for defining what breeds such variety and self-expression to our craft, THERE ARE NO RULES, with a vast majority battling the lay of the urban map with that same commandment . The minority instead, with a well respected sense of etiquette (hopefully).

       In the last two years or so he has made a conscious effort to not change his sell out ways. Beyond the fame, financial rewards, and iPhone game royalties from a concept thats so depriving to the respect of skating, (a video game about anger, and breaking boards)Kerry has once again proved he is not the master of restraint, adding on a Porno Video to his nasty little career habits, riding the D once again of some BAM financed  production, well at least he’s still skating mini ramps in the sticks of Pennsylvania with impeccable trick selection and execution. Professionalism at it’s best.

                            ” I’m eighteen and live a crazy life!”-Juelz 

When I first met, Danny he was a couple months fresh off the mosaic part and had one sample deck of his first Florida Oranges Pro Habitat Board, siting in the corner of his disheveled dormitory known as Dirt Palace in Miami. During this time, Danny was in Hiatus waiting on a much anticipated trip to Europhile (Barcelona) and in turn, did not want to do much except skate flatground of the car lot in his Miami abode and go out at night looking for lot lizards. What struck me as odd was his omission of a cell phone from his daily life. He either lost his or didn’t have one.Latter I had learned that, throughout the filming of his video part, filmers would have to call whatever poor shmuck Danny was crashing with to arrange a meet up. Even after he was pro, people would have to do the rounds, call the girlfriend,cohorts, random drinking buddies, “Yo, do you know where Danny is?”He did not lose anything through the lack of these things, but he actually enriched himself in a way far beyond the man of today who is glutted in the dubious comforts and conveniences of gadgets. Viewed from the height of skateboards so-called golden era(early 2000’s),he seems almost like an early roman. The word nonchalant has meaning again, when connected to his name.From a era where skaters learned the game from inside out, while most try desperately these days to learn from outside in.

        Unfortunately, he had as many pros had, the idea that he(his) is the only “taste” in the world worth listening to, he had his own ideas on things, and of course, they were generally very good, but sometimes they’re not. Upon opening up a skate mag it was a heckle session with each turn of the page. Literally nothing in that month’s skate coverage had gained his approval, not even his own teammates or city brethren. Though he did have the bite to back up a lot of his barking, his dossier could be found in all the skate rags of yesteryear before print went digital. This resume includes a Slap cover making use of the elusive fs heel flip, a trick that has the power to mold character, and a feather in the hat pertaining to his deep bag. Kinda like how Reynolds would throw in the ridiculously hard nollie alleyoop ledge trick in a line , while your expecting a part with his usual stock heavy kickflip shit.

These days Danny sings a different tune  alluding to taking on a more prolifically adult stance on his cleaned up persona, while wearing a Canal Street watch and a plaid shirt button up. He’ rolls into a “free lunch” after a hard morning at the office managing his startup.  It’s quite a stark naked look for a once Sid Vicious character in skating. Some girls say he is the cutest others say he’s still the rudest. That’s up to the audience to decide. At the end of the day, Danny Renaud’s watermark will hopefully be his obscenity , which is much needed at this time in the world. Part and parcel to the whole turning skate world includes the wise ass, every scene had one. Sarcasm was just another service that Danny provided. In our society, the wise ass isn’t encouraged, he is lauded, even reviled. The shoe is on the other foot these days as people want something they can relate to, not a recluse who was part of a tribe long dead and gone, so…unless he he makes use of a weapon more powerful than those employed by his adversaries. There will be no more of the old “D”. Maybe Danny is trying the weapon of conformity or something.                        

 Hence the sun always rises, a dawn of a new day,enter Mark Suciu , 2013’s watered down version of Habitat’s golden boy. Suciu could be compared to Renaud in many ways yet primarily in their differences are to be attributed. Suciu tends to follow a straight line. We all know straight lines save time, be it a queue in rush hour traffic, the soulless grid design of modern cities, or in Mark’s case the bowl cut grome who’s hit with puberty just in time to make him lanky like Gumby, which has proved a winning genetic trait in skateboarding. Following a straight line also cuts social friction like a knife and equalizes spatial distinctions by disregarding any unnecessary flare. No gimmicks, he just lets his skating do the talking, which does raise a brow as its almost the antithesis of what weird fashion most are trying to pawn off as their look. No white jeans, and ripped shirts for this guy. So while navigating this linear pattern, honing his skill in the dark philiadelpha Wawa sandwich fueled night, he has been placed at the head of the queue, which is certainly better than its tail. In common sense, and the justified faith of the true democrat spirit that is America, if he keeps wearing his Thunder’s down to the axle on a nightly basis, he will eventually win his way to the front of the line. His progress seems to be as automatic as time itself, with a slot on the coveted adidas rooster and a pro board acquired almost overnight or in perhaps the shortest timeframe possible. Though he might have been a shoe-in for some vacant Habitat hard-good ex-hires.   

  Back to discussing Danny its a no brainer that he would most assuredly not want to be a past prime pro. Putting out weak internet clips coupled with loads of talking narratives that most pro’s do today. Yet some stare in disbelief when he passes by on the sidewalks of NY. The real Danny forever mothballed tucked away like a poorly packed suitcase placed somewhere between a cee-lo circle whos banter includes a blaze of glory tale  and it’s boyish fall,  literally. I don’t think Danny was much attuned to detail as much as he just naturally flowed with the wind. But winds, pros, and prices change. So why not minds? There for a whole slew of people like to put in their 2cents about the chronicles of Danny the ex-dirt. And the hope is to keep his story alive in some urban myth form. 

Tall bike riding, ok, Without shirt, not ok.

Cellular , Brooklyn 2013