The Beautiful Mess: Why Your "Bad" Skate Footage Is Actually the Best Part

Written By Chief Chaos Officer (Paridhi Joshi)

If you're anything like me, you've spent the last few months (in my case, a whopping three) in a constant state of mild, controlled panic on a piece of wood with wheels. (I was working with a fibreglass board btw, I just upgraded)

I'm new. I'm wobbly. I'm definitely still trying to figure out if I'm "regular" or "goofy" (spoiler: it changes depending on the day). But I've also become obsessed with documenting the process. I'm on my terrace (yes, no skatepark yet) trying to find the perfect angle while simultaneously trying to remember how to push without falling flat on my face.

Most people use these platforms to showcase perfection. They show the landing, the clean trick, the effortless glide. But honestly? That's boring (okay okay, somewhat boring).

I'm here to make a case for the beautiful mess, the shaky, blurred, chaotic, and downright ugly footage that happens when you're a beginner who's too stubborn to stop filming.

The Art of the "Failed Take"

When you're three months into skating, "getting the shot" is a comedy of errors. I've spent hours setting up the perfect angle and psyching myself up for a trick, only to end up in a heap on the pavement.

But here's the thing: those failed takes are where the real story lives.

When you look back at a video of yourself almost landing a trick, falling, laughing, and then getting back up, you aren't looking at a failure. You're looking at the raw, unpolished proof that you're actually doing it. Skating is 99% falling and 1% landing, and if your social media feed only shows the 1%? You're missing out on the best part of the journey.

There is something strangely beautiful about a clip where the camera is slightly off-center, you're winded, and you're wearing knee pads that look like they've been through a war. It's honest. It says, "I was here, I tried, and I didn't quit."

The "Chief Chaos Officer" Workflow

My process is absolute, unadulterated chaos. I'm obsessed with tutorials, constantly experimenting with new angles, and trying to figure out how to film myself while I'm barely comfortable standing on my board.

My workflow looks something like this:

The Over-Preparation: I spend thirty minutes obsessing over my camera settings, making sure the battery is charged and the lens is clean.

The "Great" Plan: I go to the spot with a vision of a clean line.

The Reality Check: I spend forty-five minutes face-planting while the camera captures every single ungraceful second of it.

The Edit: I look at the footage and realize that my "fails" are actually way more entertaining than whatever I thought I was going to land.

It's messy. It's loud. It's chaotic. But it's mine. And by documenting it this way, I'm creating a time capsule of my own progression. When I look back at these clips in a year, I won't just see how much better I've gotten at skating; I'll see how much better I've gotten at just showing up for myself, even when I'm terrified.

Why Beginners Should Keep Filming

If you're a beginner, it is so easy to feel like you don't deserve to document your skating because you aren't "good enough" yet. You might think, "Why film this? I can't even ollie properly."

Stop that thought right there.

The middle part, the messy, awkward, confusing middle part, is the best part. Once you're a pro, you'll never be a beginner again. You'll never have that specific, wide-eyed wonder (or absolute terror) of hitting your first slope or figuring out how to balance for more than five seconds.

By filming your chaotic journey, you are reclaiming the narrative of your growth. You are telling the world (and yourself) that you don't need to be perfect to start. You don't need to have a "cool" aesthetic to be a skater. You just need to be willing to get on the board and be okay with looking a little ridiculous while you find your rhythm.

Embrace the Mess

So, here is my challenge to all my fellow beginners out there: keep filming. Don't wait until you're "good." Don't wait until you have the professional setup. If all you have is a phone and a dream, use it. If you have a fancy 360 camera, use that too.

Capture the falls. Capture the moments where you're frustrated and throwing your board in the grass. Capture the moments where you're laughing so hard you can't stand up.

At the end of the day, skating isn't just about the tricks. It's about the culture, the gear, the community, and the sheer audacity of trying to do something difficult just because it's fun. It's a beautiful mess, and honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Keep pushing, keep falling, and for heaven's sake, keep filming. You're going to want to remember this later.