720 – limited edition book, 2010
There are 100 signed copies, the first 20 come with an original print. These 20 are almost gone, so please check for availability.
Numbers 21-100 are 16×21 cm (A5), 34 pages with a spiral wrap-around binding.
34 Euro includes shipping in Europe.
Its been 20 years since I sliced a transition out of a sheet of plywood and leaned it against a wall, but thankfully photography still manages to get my heart racing from time to time. I made these images with a bit of envy, jealous of the kids who took the relics of a corporate wasteland, and with a few power tools and some ingenuity, created their own world. With those familiar, but long forgotten butterflies that come with breaking-and-entering, I don’t know which pull was stronger, the desire to compose these images or the urge to push along the corridor and ride up a wall.
Nowadays my skateboarding is limited to cruising around the studio, carving a wide arc around a big yellow table in the middle of the room. It is a form of meditation for me. I can get my head straight about decisions to be made, both big and small. There is something about the flow that seems to focus my thoughts, and the occasional kick-flipS wow my daughters.
It took me some years to realize it, but I have taken my unspectacular style of skateboarding with me into my photographic approach. I was always happier with a long, smooth tail-slide than with a flailing, spinning 360. Just as now I am happier with photographs that carry me along for a while than with those that jump out and scream for attention. When I dream of skateboarding, I’m Mike Mcgill. When I dream of photographing, I’m Robert Adams.
Andrew Phelps. Spring, 2010
Me, 1988. The legendary Hohokam ditch, the setting Phoenix sun and a punk haircut.
Photo by Tom Schultz.