T-SHIRTS, STICKERS, SKATEBOARDS, AND PAINT MARKERS.

T-shirts. Stickers. Skateboards.

3 of my favorite things.

I started my career as a t-shirt designer. After graduating from UNLV, I worked in a screen print and embroidery shop for seven years. I realized that creating a design and then seeing that design brought to life in a tactile fashion touches something deep inside you. It scratches a fundamental itch. Pure creation—forming an idea from absolutely nothing and seeing it made into something people keep, wear, and use—is something special.

Stickers are similar to T-shirts. They are portable artworks. Stickers can make the world your gallery. Also, who doesn't love stickers? I've gotten out of extra fees, made people smile, and sparked numerous conversations by giving people stickers. Sharing artwork on any level with another person causes a spark to be born inside. We need beauty, color, and fun in our lives. T-shirts and stickers bring those things to the masses.

And Skateboards. I've always loved skate art. Bright colors. Expressive graphics. No boundaries. You can have a reproduction of Monet, Picasso, or Van Gogh right next to decks featuring low-brow and pop culture artists like Wizard Skull, Jimbo Phillips, and Sean Cliver. I love that the possibilities are open and (possibly - more importantly) welcome. On the flip side, the designer in me has always appreciated skateboard branding. From the names that throw convention in your face (Chocolate, Almost, Alien Workshop, creature, Anti-hero, Baker, Krooked, etc) to the authentic brand voice that most enterprises struggle with.

So, how do you take three things—t-shirts, stickers, and skateboards—and make them into something worthwhile?

For me, It started with a sticky note.

We were working in our "design cave." It was a large room on the second floor of the business suite with a big window on the north wall that looked directly into a warehouse. A giant industrial heater staring back at us from the far wall. Occasionally, sunlight might glimmer off the metal monstrosity when the bay door opened or closed farther down the building.

As we furtively clicked our mice and squinted at our screens while working on various projects under the fluorescent lights, I joked that I needed a fake skateboard brand to showcase the designs rejected by various skateboard companies. After a good amount of joking, criticizing, teasing, and good-natured complaining, I ended up with a sticky note that read "Not Really Skateboards."

It was a joke, of course. My designs were skateboard designs, but no one would actually be printing them, so where they reeeeaaaallllyyyyy skateboard designs? They existed in my head, on my iPad, computer, and sometimes in an email thread. But that's it.

Not Really Skateboards, though, had a certain ring to it that I just couldn't stop thinking about. Soon, I found myself sketching ideas for logos, Adding the words "Not Really" into sketchbook doodles. Suddenly, I purchased a website domain and then two.

I loved the cheekiness of it. I loved the contradiction; I loved that it made things feel a little less serious and a lot more fun. I loved the idea that people would look at me funny and question it. Ask me why? I loved the idea of wearing t-shirts that just said "Not Really" on them.

And soon, an actual, real-life project was born: Not Really Skateboards.

However, if I started a skateboard company called Not Really Skateboards, it should be different. I wanted it to be unique, and I needed it to be something apart from my daily digital design work. So, I decided these skateboards would be distinctive—altogether one of a kind. Not Really Skateboards would only sell individually hand-painted decks—nothing mass-produced—It would be like a traditional art studio, but...Not Really.

The idea thrilled me but was also incredibly intimidating. I have spent the last 10 years developing my illustration style, mainly in a digital format. I drew on my iPad and computer in design programs with command Z and layers. Oh, layers! You don't have layers in real life. But I was committed. I ordered some blank decks and watched a good share of YouTube videos, TikTok, and Instagram reels. And then I started painting. My chosen weapon: the all-powerful paint marker. Non-toxic. Easy clean-up and fun. All essential and necessary for a home with a new baby.

I use a mix of Posca, Molotow, and Surf Paints markers. They are all acrylic - which is a deviation from my traditional medium of oil paints. While I could still paint skateboards with oil paints, I decided to use acrylic, specifically acrylic paint markers, due to flexibility. They dry faster, I can both paint and draw with them, it's easy to clean up, and the colors are bright. The success and longevity of any side project like this is the ability to do the tasks - that is, paint the skateboards. Having the flexibility to work on these boards anywhere with minimal prep or clean-up has been incredibly liberating.

After I had painted the first few decks, my oldest daughter asked if she could paint a deck. She happily came up with a concept, grabbed a bunch of markers, and got to work. Fully embracing the idea behind Not Really. After her first, she painted another. Do yourself a favor and check out her decks, her ideas are pretty awesome. And just like that, this lone project I had embarked upon became a not-so-lone project. We finished painting the boards we had, and I started looking for more. I found an exciting deal and purchased a grip of used and broken boards we are prepping to paint on now. Keep an eye out for new designs coming soon. If you have any ideas or requests - drop a note.

And now, I invite you to meander through our Not Really Skateboards site. We have decks, prints, and stickers! Let me know what you think!

Until next time.