It's been one week.
On October 12th, 2016, one of our best passed away.

I was at a rooftop bar in the Upper West Side, with a friend, Topher, who was (at the time) between jobs. It was a crisp, autumn afternoon in the city, just south of Columbia University. The breeze was present. The beers were cold, the flannels were being worn, and the conversations were relaxed. As Topher jumped to his phone’s notification (job seeking), I also defaulted to the iPhone (something I’m still working on). I went along to check Instagram account(s) and see what was happening in the greater skateboarding world (95% of what I follow on Insta is skate-centric), and the first thing that made me stop my scrolling was a black & white portrait of Dylan Rieder (@swankfuck_inc) posted by Washington, D.C.-based Palace 5ive Skateshop (@Palace5ive).

I knew that a picture of only someone’s face must have meant some sort of special message. I was right but wish I had been wrong. According to them, Dylan had died. That was something I had such a hard time grasping. I knew that he’d had (or was having) a bout with Leukemia, but Dylan was only 28 years old and I couldn’t imagine a legend so young being ripped away from his communities. Topher had been a skater in his youth and was familiar with Dylan. We chatted a bit about it, trying to get a verification. Once we did, I made a post via one of the Instagram accounts. I had caught on early in the viral process. It was an awkward thing, taking a stance on his death for the sake of promotion. Something so heavy for any “core” skateboarder (and for many, many others) yet deserving of public acknowledgement.

Dylan was a true innovator. Being a head-turner (on and off the board) was merely a side effect. From the beginning of his career, he stood out for his natural talent. While shooting a kidswear ad for Quiksilver, the photographer asked Dylan to get on a skateboard for a photo. When he stepped on the board, instead of standing feebly, he started impressively shredding. And from then on, he’s been passed through word of mouth as a great talent in skateboarding. First, with Termite Skateboards, a youth-focused brand. Later on, with Birdhouse, and then Osiris. And most recently, with pro models from both HUF and Fucking Awesome. His pop and style, his power and finesse, his vigor and his composure all worked together to create one of the most talented and uniquely stylish skaters any of us have ever seen.

From Westminster, CA, Dylan always was within arms reach of major hubs for the skateboarding and fashion industries. He was obviously an amazing skateboarder, period. But he was also an attractive man with the confidence and look that it takes to be a successful male model. In the modeling world, Dylan was doing well, as a model for DKNY and other brands. Between New York, Los Angeles, Paris and many other places for skateboarding, modeling and other endeavors within the art world, he took his passion and ability to levels most of us only dream up. His talent and natural inclination for the worlds of the aesthetic were on a supreme level (no pun intended), but what may be most impressive about him is his stand-out attitude.

When many in the skateboarding world would look down upon modeling as a career alongside professional skateboarding, Dylan said, “fuck it.” There is a popular notion amongst skateboarders that supporting other industries which might exploit skateboarding (high fashion is definitely one of them) is an automatic “no.” A “hell no,” if you will. But Dylan knew what he wanted to do and stayed true to himself. Without putting others down and without acknowledging the hate, he moved forward with a varied career that would please himself. The risk went both ways. As a model, it’s easy to see skateboarding as a threat to physical assets. What if you eat shit and open up a wound on your face? Then you can’t make the shoot in the AM. But knowing this, Dylan decided to move forward. And not only that, but to move as swiftly as he could.

Dylan was on the level of potential Skater of the Year, if it weren’t for his health and resulting skateboarding hiatus. He is the favorite skater of so many and great friend of many in the industry. He will be missed, yet more importantly, he will be remembered. He was largely responsible for a popular fashion approach in skateboarding. He had a hand in shaping skateboarders’ styles, looks and focus in how they did what they did. He was much more than would-be legend. He was an influencer in the most influential sense of the word. He commanded the respect of an older generation (without demanding anything) and won the hearts of younger generations (girls AND boys). At the end of the day, no one will remember @swankfuck_inc for what he could have done or been. He will only be remembered for how he slapped skateboarding in the face and left all of us liking it.

His video parts from Mindfield, A Time To Shine, Cherry and others are just glimpses into his footprint. Not to mention, we’re not getting into his effect outside of skateboarding.

Dylan, we (today’s skateboarders) miss you, and you will always be remembered as one of the few that truly did it their way. Not for anyone else.

R.I.P.

 - 7Ply Epic

Why do people copy others? They continually recreate the actions of their brothers, sisters, friends & even strangers. But why? They must feel that what works for their peers will work for them. And, initially, that is true. At first, imitation is done by necessity - at its earliest stages, done for survival. Learning to feed oneself is a useful skill, often learned through mirroring the tasks of family and others. Yet, after meeting a particular level of mastery, that mimicry doesn’t seem so interesting or important.

Once a human learns how to clothe and feed itself, it eventually will experiment (to some extent) in the realms of fashion and cooking. And if not, usually for a specific reason based on further understanding oneself. A friend may wear black turtlenecks exclusively but only for the ease of decision making or a signature look. But I digress.

Inevitably, when there is room for improvement or testing, one will follow that path of progress. It’s bound to occur in a world where, especially now, resources are so available to us: the incremental betterment of ourselves and how we manage our time are almost definite. In the context of skateboarding, participants are always discovering ways of expanding the limits of what can be done on a board. In one way or another, skaters will improve upon what’s ABD (already been done), whether it means bringing an old trick to a bigger spot, learning a new trick at the usual spot, or finding ways to skate spots differently altogether.

Even when it is hard to see, there is always a new approach to be had. A twist to be put on a spot or skatepark obstacle. A tweak, a revert, or an extra flip that makes the trick all your own. It’s as if writing in cursive were just a series of “tricks,” each skateboarder finds their own beautifully unique handwriting over years of repetition and iteration. The skill is the result of the practice. And one's style is an eloquent byproduct.

It is nothing else but confusing to me when I see skateboarders doing the same things they’ve been seeing on the screen for over a decade. The same standard tricks on many of the same popular “staple” spots. The maneuvers are easily labeled. The terrain is easily described. The real challenge and, in my opinion, real heart of skateboarding is in approaching the same spots with a different spin. Only the very best will roll up to a spot in a way that doesn’t make sense to the viewer. They will encroach and roll away from tricks that we’ve never considered or even conceived. It’s that type of skating that makes our past time what it is.

It’s that attitude that exposes the copycats and progresses skateboarding for all of its participants to gain from.

It’s of utmost importance to create, not only to regenerate.

 - 7Ply Epic