I was on my way to Bayonne for work, leaving my studio in Hossegor after a first failed departure while waiting for a package to be delivered.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stop by the event in Biarritz. I’m not really involved in skate events anymore. But the idea of catching up with friends from around France, Italy, the US, and all over Europe, people I hadn’t seen in a while, was enough to convince me.

For different reasons, this year hasn’t been easy. Back in March, all my cameras were stolen. Since then, I’ve had to adapt both my vision and the way I work. I made the difficult decision to sell the last film camera that survived the robbery, a camera I truly loved, but couldn’t justify keeping as my only film body, and swapped it for a small Leica digital compact.

Even though I wasn’t particularly excited about photographing another skate event, it felt like the perfect opportunity to test the little camera.

No obligations. No commission. Just shooting for myself. I arrived early, while the crew was still setting everything up. I parked the van and immediately ran into friends arriving from Italy, the US, and all around France and Europe.

The hype was already there. Young skaters whose names I barely know these days started destroying the massive wave built for the event. It became obvious pretty quickly that we were about to watch a snowboard contest on wheels.

While chatting and getting familiar with the new camera, I took my first few photos.

Almost instantly, my brain slipped back into twenty years of memories, running from spot to spot, chasing every trick, dodging runaway boards after heavy slams, trying not to stand in the wrong place.

I switched the camera off. I simply wasn’t interested in photographing it anymore. My eyes are looking for different subjects these days. I was happy just watching the session, and already convinced by the camera after those first few frames.

A few local friends invited me for a “staff beer.” On the way back, I naturally drifted away from the crowd until I found myself under the roof of the Cité de l’Océan, where the giant wave and bowl hang beneath the museum’s remarkable architecture.

There it was. Lines. Architecture. Peace. A beer. And a new little camera.

The skaters never stopped flying, even before the official contest had started, constantly moving obstacles around the big jump. I had found my spot. Tiny silhouettes floating more than five metres above the ground, framed by concrete lines, geometry and shadows.

The final madness happened on top of the wave, and I almost missed it while trying to charge my camera battery in the van. Years ago, I filmed there with Dustin Dollin, who wanted to kickflip into those insane brick waves. Unfortunately, it never happened. More recently, a few tricks have gone down there. Hugo Wrestling getting pushed by a scooter into a nosepick was one of them. Mental. Clément Le Gall made an incredible photograph from that spot.

Throughout the day, one skater had already caught my attention: a 15-year-old Brazilian kid wearing a Metallica T-shirt, flying higher than everyone else. When I realised he was about to flip into the wave, I knew I had to find a position for at least one photograph, assuming my camera would stay alive long enough. By the time I got there, the madness had already started.

From a distance I could see exactly what was happening, but I also knew I wouldn’t find a good angle buried in the crowd. Besides, because of Miguelle’s stance, shooting straight in front of the curved wave would completely flatten the perspective.

So once again: stop, think, move. I walked away from everyone, moving to the left side of the obstacle. There wasn’t much physical space because of the museum entrance and surrounding walls. Eventually I found myself well outside the crowd, far from the building. It reminded me that every time I drove past that place, I’d imagined photographing the structure from that exact distance. I’d just never had the chance. Besides, my 400mm was gone anyway.

I also figured it was more or less the same angle Clément had once used. It felt safe. Three frames later, the battery died. I thought it was over. I assumed Miguelle’s energy was gone too. I remembered what it felt like to be fifteen years old, possessed to skate, skating for hours without ever getting tired.

And in that atmosphere, during that event, I knew that kickflip was going to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad I got to witness it with my own eyes instead of through a viewfinder. For once. After twenty years behind a camera.

Alberto Scattolin

Photography © Alberto Scattolin

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