Hailing from Seattle, Washington and now based in Los Angeles, Ian Ostrowski’s work with the Genesis series and brand hits directly on the Artless® dialog as of late. Coming off a trip to Japan with the Genny Crew, along with a new vid and Summer 26 Drop, I was able to punish Ian via Zoom and get a direct line into his involvement in the video crew-to-brand pipeline, music curation, and beauty of DIY jousting.
ARTLESS: You just got back from Japan. The last trip I took with a major time change was incredible because my fuckin’ phone wasn’t ragebaiting me in real time. Everything hits different where you’re not wired into “US Social Media™” I guess… How was it for you?
IAN OSTROWSKI: That was pretty crazy— it’s nice being able to go out and skate and do the whole thing, and then I’d get all my notifications or people checking in on me, either in the morning or at night. I didn’t feel like I had to be on my phone checking things or staying up to date on stuff. It’s just kind of how my phone should be: I just used it to get around and use maps, and then I’d check it at the end of the day and see who was bugging me.
Something that doesn’t change with social media is regionality. Even though we’re all looking at the same shit, where you’re from has it’s own vibe and feel. Is that something you picked up on growing up in the Northwest?
I didn’t really notice it until I traveled out to places like LA, or even Portland, which is slightly different. Seattle has a lot of street skating — we have Westlake Plaza, heavy on ledge skating, nollie crooks, stuff like that. But both Portland and Seattle have that thing where there’s Burnside and Marginal Way, and people build these crazy DIY concrete structures. So I didn’t really realize it, but a lot of the people I grew up skating with have that duality: street skater, but also can skate transition.
I feel like shops really dictate things too–especially how a board wall is limited, which is kind of rad. I live in New Mexico and the shop blows out Zero–a lot of ditch devils and board grabbing in the Land of Enchantment.
Oh wow, that’s fucking funny. In Seattle Hardbody is pretty popular, but also, so is Antihero–the two polar opposites of the city. [laughs] That kind of sums up what Seattle is about in a lot of ways. We also have a lot of Crailtap riders from here, so that’s a huge part too—people love to rep that. That’s definitely a big part. One of the local shops 35th Ave has a “Locals Only” wall featuring only PNW board brands which is pretty sick!
I remember talking to some Crailtap riders while they were filming for The Flare and how they really wanted some Portland and Seattle footage in the mix, because of the contrast between shitty concrete and epic greenery. Now I can’t unsee that shit.
I’m back in Seattle this week, visiting family before I go back to LA, and that’s been my biggest takeaway. There’s all this shitty, kind of decaying concrete, crusty spots, but it’s filled with so much greenery that you don’t get in LA or even New York or anywhere else really. It’s so lush, and it looks so sick on film when you get that really bright green.
Other than your local crew, what really got you sparked to make your own videos–what shaped your eye?
The first real video I watched was one my friend bought me on DVD, a local video called Beware of Sasquatch. It had Cory Kennedy’s breakout part, when he was skating three different pairs of shoes—a nine-minute epic part. I don’t know if I realized it then, but I think that was a formative part of me growing up and learning how to skate. I also realized quickly that I wanted to skate, but it was more important to me that it was being documented—that all my friends’ skating was being documented—than that I make progress with my own skating.
IMAGES COURTESY OF GENESIS/IAN OSTROWSKI
What do you think that is? Just the energy of it or the fact that you want to elevate your friends?
Yeah, I think it’s also just how fleeting youth is, and the way everyone else around me doesn’t seem to notice it. They just seem to think we’re gonna keep hanging out forever, keep going to these parties, and keep going to the skate park. But no one really realizes there’s gonna be a last day you all show up there.
I don’t know if I realized that early on, but as I get older, I appreciate more that I have these archives—every single day I went to the skate park when I was fifteen, I have every single clip. It’s so cool to have this deep archive of all these things, because I grew up at the start of the YouTube era, I guess. I feel like Pretty Sweet was the first skate video that came out while I was actually skating—the first “big” video at least. It was harder for the older videos before that to click with me, because I was a kid watching them on YouTube and they looked like shit—the quality was garbage and I didn’t have access to any of the DVDs.
So then Pretty Sweet comes out, and you can rent it on iTunes and it’s fucking 1080p, crispy, whatever—you could see everyone’s faces. Same with Cherry. That video was huge for me. It came out my senior year of high school, and I really remember being able to visualize the characters well, because Strobeck does his zooms and it’s all crispy HD.
Those two videos are kind of interesting tentpoles. I’m trying to think of a good parallel. It’s almost like if you’re a kid getting into music, and the first thing you hear is your parents’ Rolling Stones record—super pro—and then the next thing you hear is some black metal tape.
Totally. I also remember watching Cherry and hearing the Chief Keef song when they’re skating into the courthouse drop and I think that was something that clicked in my head. I’m like, “Oh, you can do that. You can use any song and it can be cool. I felt a lot more restricted before that, like I had to use music that felt like what had been in skate videos in the past. That was huge for me too..
Did Cherry hit for you because the soundtrack was kind of genreless in a sense—like how we consume music now?
Yes, I think I really felt seen by it—Cherry felt more rooted in internet culture. It felt like Strobeck was deeply tapping into this thing that me and all my friends were into, but no one at that level had tapped into it yet. Ty Evans wouldn’t use a Chief Keef song, you know? So it felt like he was the first person to do that, because he had access to Na-Kel and all those kids too at the time. It felt like he was able to tap into that and represent us—my generation—because he saw it on the ground firsthand.
OK, this hits on something I had in my notes. In 2026, there’s all types of skate video makers–people my age and people in their teens and shit. But I feel like this style emerged—almost its own genre—of fake Zoomer-coded editing and I hate it so much. I wonder if it’s just an iteration of people copying (William) Strobeck.
Totally, that might be it.
Do you pick up on that, since you make things yourself? Are there non-negotiables when you watch other videos?
There are so many. I think music is a huge thing — if you’re using a song I’ve heard in five other videos, I’m kind of like, what’s the point? What are we doing here? That’s a big one for me. I think the most important thing is really being able to grab the audience’s attention. People have had the wrong takeaway from Strobeck—that in the edit process you can linger and drag things out. I’m guilty of it myself in some of my own videos, but it should be engaging and get to the point as much as you can.
Yeah, that’s rhythm, right? I think you develop rhythm through repetition. When I rewatched Genesis 3 something I took away was that I really like getting to see the tricks, getting to see the environment, and getting little morsels of the process. Your way of showing “the process” is this distinct brand of what I’d call wholesome chaos. I’m always waiting for it to go over the edge, and it never does.
That’s kind of a summation of our whole thing. It also feels internal within the friend group. When you have a friend group that’s ten or fifteen people, at some point it’s not all going to work, but you string it together year after year. Everything is always falling apart. Your room’s always a mess, you always need to clean everything up. I’m literally a person who has a stack of four plates and a bowl I need to go wash right now, but I like to let things get messy so I can clean them up and bring them back. I apply that to making videos too—I enjoy seeing how chaotic things can get before I can bring it back, chill out.
Are you just dropping in moments that stick out in your head as you edit? What’s the selection process?
I have folders for each person. Then I have the video name. We’ll have a lot of hijinks and stuff, and I’ll try to split it up by person: OK, this person was being really crazy on camera, I’ll put that in their folder or they’re the star of that hijinks clip, I’ll put that in their folder. For me to know I’m gonna make a part of someone, I feel like there needs to be a good amount of not only skating but also personality. If you have three really good skate clips and three really good personality or B-roll moments, then I feel confident that I can fill in the dots, And it starts with the song a lot too. I need to be juiced on a certain song—the song matches this person or this moment or the board slipping out on this exact moment. I’ll start on songs early too, before I even know if I can complete it. Fuck it, sometimes you’ve got to cut a song off early too, just to get to the point more.
Something else that comes through is that you’re really good at building the people you film as characters. Sometimes I’m watching a video and I get lost: OK, is this Stone Sanders? He did a front tail kickflip out… or was that Kaden Stone? Maybe I like Euro-Tech™ videos because everyone has an interesting name and the spots look cool. How much do you think about making each person unique in a video?
It’s knowing what I’m drawn to and who I’m drawn to—the intuition of knowing this person’s about to do something really stupid, I need to pull the camera out. Also, I feel like we got coincidentally blessed with it. I was skating with Flithy (Ontrell Fisher) one day, and he described it as “your squad needs to look like the Power Rangers. If you put their silhouette on a colored background, you need to be able to pick them out of a lineup.”
So you’re thinking, “OK, he’s the guy that wears the hat, he’s got the bigger hair, shit like that.” I don’t know if that was a conscious choice by me, but if I’m gonna make a full-length, I need everyone to stand out from each other in some way. If it’s not a physical thing, it has to be that you can tell apart their personalities very distinctly.
Knowing how closely you work with the Genesis crew, how does it feel when you see them in other projects. I’d have to think it’s like being a music producer who worked super hard on someone’s breakout album and now you’re seeing someone with different tastes or a vastly different aesthetic showcase your close friend.
I think it’s cool. Going to the theater for the Violet video, sitting down and watching Troy’s (Gipson) part—he hasn’t had a part of his own skating since we filmed it six years ago, just clips and montages, little things. But getting to see that, and how Bill was able to capture his whimsy a little bit too—that’s important to me, because Troy is a silly-ass dude. I guess this is a Troy-specific thing, but I’ve been skating with him since he was twelve or thirteen years old, at the same skate park, and just intuitively knowing there’s something about this kid— it’s validating that other people see it too, that he’s able to go all the way and do it. Same with the homie Romel (Torres), who had a part in “Genesis 3” that was very unserious—he just got on FA, which is a great fit for him too. I’m curious to see how that goes. I sent them a few clips I had. My clips are all colorful and bright and crazy and fun, so I’m curious to see if they’ll even be able to fit them into an FA project, if it’ll work at all.
I think that whole thing is pretty indicative of skateboarding now—if you have four sponsors, you could be presented four different ways.
I think it gives skaters a chance to show their full personality, for sure, because we’re all very multifaceted beings. Someone like Troy — Troy, Romel, Dylan (Clark)—Dylan just got on Enjoi, which I think is going to be a funny one. He has a lot of silly, funny aspects, and I’m curious to see how Enjoi explores Dylan and his world.
I don’t want to sound too “money-forward,” but the reality is that there was a time when I brand could afford to make a skate video a big production, because VHS or DVD sales provided a return on that investment. Jesus, I sound like fuckin’ Mikey Taylor. Anyway, it still costs money to take trips and make things–time is money–but we all expect it for free.
Yeah, it’s insane. Also, if there was a Gifted Hater when Baker 3 first came out, I’m curious if it would’ve had the same cultural impact—if people would see it the same way, if it got shit on the week it came out.
But I feel like it all starts with the culture of streaming music, that’s where it stemmed from. You could listen to any song for five or ten bucks a month, and we accepted that as normal and now it’s bled into streaming movies and watching skate videos, where it’s normal for it to be free and weird for it to cost money.
When I first started making the first couple Genesis videos, I remember talking to the owner of 35th North—we were going to do a premiere there, and he was like, “Oh, you’re not gonna make DVDs?” I was pretty young at the time and I told him, I didn’t want to make a DVD if I didn’t know people like it yet. I want to make sure people can watch it and know it’s good and if they like it, they’ll buy a copy. That was my thought process going into it. I think we’ve been able to validate it over time—it’s been nine years since we made the first one, so I feel like now I’m at a point where there’s a little more value in it. But we don’t live in a world where that’s normal anymore, so it’s hard to go back.
Speaking to how music changed, a band’s revenue stream is playing live and selling shit at the show, where they don’t have to deal with a label or mailing shit out. You can’t “play skateboarding” live and you can’t really charge someone to go to a video premier–that has to be free and sponsored by someone. So expanding what’s essentially an independent production company into a hard or soft goods brand is the logical conclusion, right?
Absolutely. We were also talking to the homie from Seattle, Marshall Reid. He did Manik skateboards back in the day—they’d show up to a random town, like Denver, and put on a demo where they’d build a bunch of wooden ramps. They’d charge a place three thousand dollars or whatever and the team would show up, skate these wooden ramps, and put on a show. Now I feel like that isn’t really something of value anymore either. I don’t know, maybe a shop would pay for a demo if it was like Kader (Sylla) or something. It’s a very different world.
[laughs] I’m shocked some ex X-Games ramp champ type dude doesn’t have a IRL Cameo where he just shows up and shreds for you one-on-one.
Ha, yeah. Book me for your birthday party and I’ll show up.
Can you talk about your approach to product? In your most recent drop you have the “Joust” graphic. I love that there’s so much going on with that one and you’re balancing the logo-driven pieces with something really creative. Do you separate it like, “This is video land and this is product land” or are they one thing?
That’s been the tricky thing. Lately, it’s so easy to just look at what everyone else is doing and do the same thing—do the ad with the wired headphones and the hair-shaking thing. So I’ve really been trying to think consciously: “OK, we’re so different, we have this unique upbringing in Seattle, this unique experience, sohow can we best highlight that?”
That new board—the Joust one—is actually inspired by this festival in Seattle called Dead Baby Downhill. All these punk people show up in their vests and crazy outfits; it’s this crazy bike festival, people riding tricycles and giant bikes and three-wheelers. But the main event of Dead Baby is a bike joust, where two people get poles and go at each other on bikes. It happens every summer in Seattle—if you know, you know. There’s a little B-roll in Genesis 3 of one of the homies getting up on a bike and jousting a random person. As it grows and we’re like, “OK, we live in LA now, we sponsor a kid in Tokyo and Denver—I think the Seattle upbringing, the things we experienced together at the skate park, is the driving force, the glue that holds it all together. Not just Seattle specifically, but how can we really show our experience and our unique perspective in a way that feels like us.
That’s a great tie-in. What are the barriers to what you’re doing with Genesis besides finding ways to fund trips?
Well—most people probably know this—but if you’re not ordering a certain amount of boards, it’s really expensive per graphic, per size. So a year or two ago, we’d do drops with two or three board graphics at once, and now it’s more like every drop we get one chance to put out a graphic. So it’s not like we can’t just do a few logo boards–the homie drew this other thing, let’s throw that on a board. There’s so much more pressure and intention on what we choose to put on the one board for each drop, versus a bigger brand that could be like, “OH, we got ten different graphics, go buy them, they’re gonna sell regardless.”
[laughs] The spikey-graphic factor—what brand do I want to buy a spikey thing from? As a consumer and enjoyer of things, I’m kind of exhausted and because of that, I think it puts a lot of pressure on people making skate videos to “save skateboarding.” You know, get me out of my malaise and whatnot. Do you feel that weight or pressure in skating or with your work?
It’s tricky—I feel like so much of what you’re talking about is also trying to recreate the past—things that have already been done. I will say I really liked the Sci-Fi video because it felt refreshing and unlike any other skate video that currently exists—kind of in the same way it was hearing Chief Keef in Cherry for the first time. Seeing Ryan Lay skate to a Young Thug song was so left field that it was dope and engaging to me. But I feel like there are so many people trying to chase, “Oh, I’m gonna recreate the skate video that was good when I was a kid.”
I catch myself in that sometimes too— I want the intro to feel like Pretty Sweet or let’s use the Chief Keef song. No one’s trying to make the skate video for the kid learning how to skate now. There’s no video directed toward that kid in the way I felt Cherry was directed specifically at me, for me to see it and think, I want to make a cool skate video—I want to make a video as cool as this. A lot of it is just chasing nostalgia, when I think we really need to look forward and see how we can create from the present, not ignore that all the clues are kind of in front of us as the direction to go.
Going back to Endless Beauty, I think it had that “Power Ranger” factor you spoke of earlier. I’m definitely not a kid, but I could see someone seeing that as their first video and picking their “Ranger” and within that video they had a nice variety of different styles, approaches, and ages. That being said, it’s hard to bet on the youth, especially in the “everyone is really fucking good” era.
It’s hard. You don’t know who’s gonna be a lifer in the end, who’s really gonna keep moving and progressing—it’s definitely a gamble. We’ve seen it with Baker a lot, where they’ll test people out and it won’t really work, it fizzles. You also don’t want to push the older generation out, especially people for whom this is their livelihood—the whole thing they’ve worked to build. But that’s also why every budget is so fucked. I don’t want to air out any brands specifically, but I think people can see who is burning their budget on names, instead of building up their younger riders. From my personal perspective, I’d rather pay five kids who’ve never had a real opportunity well, than sink all that money into people who don’t produce anything but their “name.”
Skateboarding needs to read Moneyball or learn about “roster construction.” I wish legacy companies–and companies in general–were doing well enough where the creativity was coming from the young blood and the older people in the game were helping them refine their vision… and do all the bullshit someone in the streets shouldn’t be doing.
That’s also kind of what I’ve been struggling with, trying to do Genesis. I know I can make a skate video, I know I can post stuff on Instagram, but I’ve really been struggling with trying to scale it as a brand and be consistent. It’s also the thing of trying to hire your friends to work, because no one’s really taking it seriously, since we’ve kind of been fucking off for the past decade. So me trying to tell them, “Hey, let’s do this! Let’s take it seriously!” Nah.
I feel like if I could find the industry vet who gets what we’re about… we need a person who knows the business, who can help us steer that side of the ship, because we know what’s sick, we know how to make a good video, we know how to promote it, we can make graphics and stuff. I feel like there are so many people in those positions who—I don’t want to say what they’re doing is wack—but using all your resources to just do the same thing that’s been done for the past twenty years, continuing on the same path feels like a waste of energy.
This is great. Ian’s the best