Do you remember when you started blading and you would blade so hard every day and tell yourself how good you would be in a year, two years, five years, ten years? I do, that’s what I told myself for hours on end every day, skating the tiny skate park in my tiny town. Ten years ago I was sixteen. I mainly skated in my home town, and mainly with skateboarders besides my friend, Grant Kjos. I periodically got my hands on various cameras, from my mom’s point-and-shoot 35mm camera to my sister’s SLR on which she was showing me the basics. I really liked taking pictures and always wished I had more access to different skaters. Grant was/is my favorite person to skate with, and I certainly took pictures of him. I also set up shots that other people would take of me. Most of the pictures I was involved with at age sixteen were actually of me skating. I was not better than anyone at skating but I was more interested in skating for photos. As I say that (I have not thought about this before now) I realize that the idea of skating for photos as opposed to just skating around was something that always appealed to me, though at first I preferred to be on the business end of the camera.
Early file management.
Grant Kjos / Back Farf / Glenwood, MN
John Haynes / Zerospin X-Grind / Glenwood, MN
John Haynes / Royale / Glenwood, MN
Tyler Schilling / Soul Grind / Glenwood, MN
Many of these photos I have not even looked at in many years. To be looking at them in this context, is very strange. They are photos of a different life, a different time in that different life, and it seems familiar in such a foreign way. I remember the tricks I was doing, I remember where and how I was standing when I was clicking the shutter. I remember how horrible the ledge down the street slid, and I remember how good I thought it felt. Even though I remember the pictures, the way in which I remember them is eerie. Now I think of a picture I was involved with three years ago, I remember the angle, the challenge presented, and the way it was solved. However, when I look at these pictures I remember how they physically felt. My memory of them is more vizierial than intellectual. I remember how humid the day was or the feeling of the film winding in the camera. Oh, to be young again…
— John Haynes