I can't tell Jonnie's story without skateboards. A skater's path, is one of hard unfeeling concrete that is full of potholes and traffic. As a philosophy Skating is a non-verbal protest against a far too conservative establishment. In action it is voicing that protest by performing upon it's yellow twisted gnarly spine a long, loud, and aggressive railslide. A skater's primary fuel, second to beer, is his anger, an inate hostility, a qualified hatred of all obstacles in his path. The only truth a skater really knows about is crisis on concrete, pulling a trick off perfectly, and party, party, party.
Jonnie was an agro skater; he would skate with his entire being; he would skate until somthing broke whether it be the skateboard, the pavement, or himself. Jonnie went through his life on a skateboard. Jonnie was also an artist, and Jonnie's skater's heart made all his art a mixture of brokenglass and vomit; it was angry, painful, but above all, it was true.
When looking through the odd peices of Jonnie's art that we all had brought to the party held in his memory, I was struck by the intensity of feeling I had experienced. Everyone of us had a piece of Jonnie's art work to bring, I brought my Colors, he did the crossed skateboard and hockey stick logo. I think the one piece of art that was the most revealing of Jonnie was his antithetical Wellspring Man. This picture was a small black and white sticker made to stick on skateboards and stop signs. The picture depicted a sitting man whose head was an open commode in the process of being flushed. The man's hands were tightly gripping the open rim of his skull and his facial expression was tortured. I think that in some ways Jonnie was the Wellspring Man. Looking at the original picture I could feel Jonnie's anger, through his art I could almost sense the skater's hate that it engedered in his soul.
Jonnie was never untrue to his friends; he told all of us to goto hell. But despite Jonnie's sandpaper personality, he was liked by all of us. Our respect for Jonnie was not built on any need that he fulfilled or any of the "gimmee gimmees." Jonnie was more an experience, never expected, never boring, and always full of life. And it was this I think that we respected most: He was a better "skater" than any of us; he skated from the depths of his soul.
I remember the afternoon my girlfriend came home and told me about Jonnie's death "Oh Damn" was all I said. Jonnie died trying to ride a great white horse and skate at the same time. Jonnie died a long way from home, up north chasing a piece of himself that he had lost or forgotten at one of his lifes too many parties.
As a skater, I play the game of life in my own way, I am a skating fundementalist, with stress on the fun and mental aspects of the game. I don't believe that Jonnie played the game so hard it broke him, I think Jonnie was just too damn heavy for the thin ice of this life. I know that Jonnie the skater, the artist, and rebel is now in Valhalla. He's up there making Old One Eye blink his single eye in suprise at the airs he's pulling off. In conclusion all that I can say is "See ya, Man."
Jonnie was an agro skater; he would skate with his entire being; he would skate until somthing broke whether it be the skateboard, the pavement, or himself. Jonnie went through his life on a skateboard. Jonnie was also an artist, and Jonnie's skater's heart made all his art a mixture of brokenglass and vomit; it was angry, painful, but above all, it was true.
When looking through the odd peices of Jonnie's art that we all had brought to the party held in his memory, I was struck by the intensity of feeling I had experienced. Everyone of us had a piece of Jonnie's art work to bring, I brought my Colors, he did the crossed skateboard and hockey stick logo. I think the one piece of art that was the most revealing of Jonnie was his antithetical Wellspring Man. This picture was a small black and white sticker made to stick on skateboards and stop signs. The picture depicted a sitting man whose head was an open commode in the process of being flushed. The man's hands were tightly gripping the open rim of his skull and his facial expression was tortured. I think that in some ways Jonnie was the Wellspring Man. Looking at the original picture I could feel Jonnie's anger, through his art I could almost sense the skater's hate that it engedered in his soul.
Jonnie was never untrue to his friends; he told all of us to goto hell. But despite Jonnie's sandpaper personality, he was liked by all of us. Our respect for Jonnie was not built on any need that he fulfilled or any of the "gimmee gimmees." Jonnie was more an experience, never expected, never boring, and always full of life. And it was this I think that we respected most: He was a better "skater" than any of us; he skated from the depths of his soul.
I remember the afternoon my girlfriend came home and told me about Jonnie's death "Oh Damn" was all I said. Jonnie died trying to ride a great white horse and skate at the same time. Jonnie died a long way from home, up north chasing a piece of himself that he had lost or forgotten at one of his lifes too many parties.
As a skater, I play the game of life in my own way, I am a skating fundementalist, with stress on the fun and mental aspects of the game. I don't believe that Jonnie played the game so hard it broke him, I think Jonnie was just too damn heavy for the thin ice of this life. I know that Jonnie the skater, the artist, and rebel is now in Valhalla. He's up there making Old One Eye blink his single eye in suprise at the airs he's pulling off. In conclusion all that I can say is "See ya, Man."
