Dissection By Design

I’ve done colorways and smaller projects before, but this is bigger than anything I’ve worked on. I’ve had major photo shows with all the spotlight—events, parties, the Abloh Invitational during Art Basel—but this is different. With a capsule collection, there’s pressure: you want it to sell, you want it to succeed.

And Vans is a global brand. It’s not just an L.A. thing. We’re literally taking this on the road for the next month. The launch has been overwhelming in the best way—seeing people all over the world wearing this, celebrating it, showing love on Instagram—it feels incredible.

When you first started skating and shooting photos, did you ever imagine you’d be designing a Vans collection?

Never. I’m a kid from Colorado. I wasn’t supposed to be friends with the comedians, athletes, or artists I’ve met through this life. Skateboarding gave me everything—that’s why we titled this project United Through Skateboarding.

Picking up a camera took me around the world at a young age—Brazil in ’95, South Africa in ’96, just after apartheid ended. I grew up poor, so traveling through skateboarding and photography changed everything for me.

Vans is deeply rooted in skate culture. How has your relationship with them evolved?

It goes way back. I got my first pair at a skate shop in ’90 or ’91. My first ad I shot for them was in ’95 for the Half Cabs. In 2010, they asked me to be an ambassador for OTW when it launched.

Because I photograph so many skaters with different sponsors, I’ve had relationships with all the brands “behind the curtain.” But Vans always resonated because their core is skateboarding. That’s my core, too. And I genuinely love the shoes. I came up in hardcore, so the Authentic was huge. And the Half Cab—to me that’s one of the greatest skate shoes of all time.

At their core, Vans is skateboarding. That’s my core too. It’s always been a natural fit.

How often do you still skate?

Twice a week if I’m home in L.A. I’ve got a mini ramp in my backyard, and I love skating Frogtown park. At this point, it’s about making it a priority. I’m getting older—it won’t last forever—but I actually appreciate skating more now than ever.

Do you feel like you approach skating and photography from the same place?

Absolutely. Skating is problem solving. You set your feet the same way, trust muscle memory, and keep trying until it works. That’s exactly how I approach photography.

What makes you want to photograph a skater?

Style. Always style. I’ve shot some of the gnarliest tricks ever, which is exciting, but now that I’m older, I’m less into the danger. What keeps me inspired is style.

Do you ever miss moments when you’re shooting?

All the time. With action, you’re always seconds away from blowing it. A portrait you can re-do, but a skate trick? If you miss it, it’s gone. Tyshawn Jones’ kickflip in the subway—that’s one I nailed, and I knew I would’ve been crushed if I hadn’t.

You’re pretty well-known at this point, especially in skateboarding. How do you feel about fame?

My twin brother once told me, “You’re not famous, you’re popular.” And he’s right—I’m a photographer. It still blows my mind that people recognize me, but I love that it’s mostly skaters. It’s like a secret Tyler Durden society. Someone will just say, “This coffee’s on me, I know who you are.” That’s special.

Living in L.A., I’ve seen how terrible real fame can be. You can’t go anywhere, you’re swarmed. I wouldn’t want that life. I’m social—I like moving around freely. The level of recognition I have is perfect. And social media helps, because at the end of the day, I just want my photos seen by as many people as possible.