Interview and Intro by Jessica Holland
Photography by Leo Sharp
ALL IN
100% commitment is one way of describing 43-year-old artist and skateboarder Lorna Goldfinch, who’s based in Falmouth, Cornwall, but spends chunks of each year in Malmö and Auckland. Whether she’s hurling herself at crusty pool coping or sitting with her sketchbook, lost in a trance of colour and shape, she’s always intently immersed in the moment.
You’ve been painting DIY and iconic skate spots around the world for the past few years. What’s driving you?
These were the locations I spent most of my time in anyway. I loved all the places that slipped between the cracks. Empty of people but full of signs of life. I realised when I started filling sketchbooks that it would come together as the subject of my next project. I don’t think there’s any end in sight though.
What drives you to document these spaces?
The ‘why’ has always been to document things that are transient or overlooked. I think this loops back to when I was a teenager and I was a person that felt fairly invisible, and the skateboarders saw me and invited me in. These places really resonate with me, particularly the energy that people put into creating them, communally and for each other. I want to capture it because they’re always going to disappear. Concrete looks so permanent but plants can push through it. If you don’t look after it, it decays. I get a bit obsessed with that dichotomy. The ‘why’ is also about creating something for the people that also love these places. If I make a painting and someone messages me because it connects with them, I feel a million times better that I’m not just wasting my time with self-indulgent hobbies. It’s got a little bit of greater meaning.
Can you describe what a painting session feels like?
The act of creating the paintings, particularly in my sketch book and on location, is one of peace and meditation, like slipping into another world. It’s that classic flow state that is so addictive but also nurturing. You just put one colour after the next colour and I have no idea what will be revealed at the end. It’s a purely instinctual process. Looking back at my sketchbooks takes me right back to the places I’ve been. It’s like the reverse of the cartoon Penny Crayon, where she creates these worlds with her crayon and they come alive. I feel like I capture something of these spaces that mean so much to me, and then they carry on living in my sketchbook and I can access them whenever I want.
Can you tell the story of a particular place you painted?
When I was last in New Zealand there was a barrier spot, and I took myself there one morning when the light was just right. The hunt for the spot is a really important part of the experience for me. I like there to be an element of questing, so I only had a rough idea of where and what it was. I heard that there’s a tree above it that lends it a really nice light. So first I found it, which gives me the initial thrill, then I get my paints out and start painting, and it’s a trance where time slips by. I was just at the final stages when someone arrived to skate the spot, so I could shake my hands off and skate the spot I’d just been painting. That gave me the full sensory experience of this environment.
You used to paint in this very precise way, and then your style became much more expressive and bold with simplified colours and shapes. What happened?
My style changed pretty much overnight when I started sitting in these locations with my sketchbook rather than working from photographic reference I had taken and extravagant perspective grids at my drawing board. I also changed medium from watercolour to gouache, so rather than working from light to dark, you work from mid-tones outwards. It also synchronised with a big increase in meditation, actually. So I was stepping out of my mind and control and into trust, just allowing my intuition or play or curiosity — whatever it is — to guide me. And when I look at them, I think they do feel different to me because of that.
Skating is also a big part of your life. How does it feel to be skating in your 40s?
I feel like I have a different mindset at this stage of life. It feels easier with people who are my age, when there’s some kind of surrender to life and gratitude. I love slappy sessions here. No one’s trying to be cool. It’s rad to still be rolling. I love it when everyone’s skating in that sense of gratitude and that shared energy.
Some people talk about 'women’s skateboarding' as if it’s a distinct subculture or community. Do you see it that way?
Yeah, I think it is a thriving subculture within skateboarding, but it’s not one that I personally found home within. I don’t think I feel connected to being part of that community of women skaters, even though I think it’s amazing that it exists. It’s not the route I got into [skating] through. I relate more to the group of weirdos and outsiders. At school, for example, I didn’t feel included in groups of girls. I was more of a lone ranger drawn to other outsiders and weirdos.
When you’re truly skating, you just surrender to it. Where it takes you, you can’t control it.
You mentioned seeking out ‘weirdos and outsiders’. How does that relate to your experience now?
I’m really sensitive to energy, vibe and judgement. There are some people that it’s the best feeling in the world to skate with them. Other times the vibe is off, it’s too self-conscious or too cool or I feel misunderstood perhaps. Then it’s really hard to let go. I believe that skating comes from the heart, it’s the same place as my paintings. I feel completely free and safe to let go and be myself, and the environment is massively important for that and who’s around. That’s also my concern about [skateboarding] attracting more people that I don’t feel particularly safe to be myself around, into my environments that feel like home, and the places that I can express myself in my purest way. That’s why I’m drawn to these hidden secret spots because they still haven’t been co-opted. Anything that’s really hard to skate I enjoy skating it because it sheds off a load of people. It feels exclusive.
That’s why I love slappies because you can only do them if you fully hurl yourself at full speed at a curb. It’s so stupid! It takes something in the mind to be able to let yourself go enough to do a slappy. [Laughs]
It’s like what you said about painting and letting go of control, creatively interacting with the environment.
A hundred per cent. Creativity and surrender: those two words really fuel my life. My life got to a certain point of control, and then I reached this breaking point, and everything became about letting go. And then these last years have been about shedding and shedding and shedding. That’s been literally, with the way that I’ve been living my life, but also internally, spiritually, metaphorically. Everything has been about letting go. Now I’m in this rebuilding phase but trying to do it with this sense of ‘surrender to life’ and ‘create,’ and keeping those two things in balance. It’s not something I’ve thought about before, but that’s how it feels. When you’re truly skating, you just surrender to it. Where it takes you, you can’t control it. You can’t use your mind and if you try and use your mind you get all tense and frustrated. All the work you’ve done before feeds into it, but we all know that feeling where you do a good line or you do a trick so well that you’ve been struggling with for ages. I think that’s the best feeling, being out of your mind and back in your body. There’s a big movement towards bringing us back into our bodies because we’ve been these minds on sticks for so long. That’s what society has pushed us into and anything that gets us into our bodies is of deep value. And even more so getting people away from their phones and computers and sitting at screens. Feeling the physicality of life. In skateboarding you hurt yourself all the time and it’s invigorating and life-affirming, as long as you’re not injured. You feel like: ‘I’m alive. I can feel my body. I’m resilient and I’m getting up.’ That’s something that I really need to feel like my mental health is ok and life is balanced.
Can you describe a perfect skate day you’ve had recently?
This last time I was in New Zealand, some friends and I went on a mission to skate a dam. This involved some planning, a little bit of danger. We had to paddleboard over to get access to it. And then there’s this huge fullpipe inside, it all felt like stepping outside the regular world and into this super special place. You’re on high alert when you first get there, and you’re all bubbling with excitement and then trying to work out what the possibilities are. Sweeping it out, and knowing that it could all end at any point if you get busted. Then slowly you fall more and more into — it’s almost like a shared dream. It’s so surreal. Then you start encouraging each other and finding out what’s possible, pushing each other in a gentle way to reach your potential in the space. It was one of the best days of my life. We actually went twice. Tried three times, got in twice. It’s like finding a backyard pool: you might spend three hours emptying it to skate it for half an hour before the sun goes down and it gets slippery again. But that, to me, is worth a million times going to the skate park. It’s the whole shared experience you have, with a few select other people, to create something weird and special, and say ‘I can’t believe this is my life.’
Follow Lorna - @lornastration
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