Learn more about Closer Skateboarding and find contact details for the magazine.

Closer is an independent magazine dedicated to skateboarding culture. Launched in 2022, Closer brings together the finest journalism and photography to deliver a premium approach to a contemporary skateboarding publication underscored by a reverence for skateboarding history.

The team behind Closer is a cross generational cast combining those with decades working in skate media with today’s most prolific storytellers. The editorial team includes founder and director and Jaime Owens (TransWorld Skateboarding and Skateboarder Magazine, formerly), Eric Swisher (The Chrome Ball Incident) and Farran Golding (Quartersnacks) who are joined by art director, Sammy Spiteri (HUF, Vans). Photographers Matt Price (Kinser), J. Grant Brittain, Mike Heikkila, Kyle Seidler, Ben Colen, Bryce Kanights and Anthony Acosta are regular contributors, alongside many more. (View the full masthead here.)

Closer is printed four times annually in Costa Mesa, USA. Subscribers receive their copies hot off the press and Closer in stocked in skate stores around the world alongside our web store.

If you would like to contact Closer, please email jaime@closerskate.com

Latest Issue: Closer Issue #9, Volume 3.1, Fall 2024

Closer Skateboarding issue 9 featuring Donovon Piscopo on the front cover as well as John Lucero and Lance Mountain on the back.

The latest magazine, Closer Skateboarding Issue 9 features Donovon Piscopo by Anthony Acosta on the cover and John Lucero and Lance Mountain by Jaime Owens on the back. Features include an interview with Donovon Piscopo on fatherhood and founding his own company, Anthony Pappalardo (the writer) traces the story of a mysterious skate-able sculpture in Boston, Norma Ibarra shares her industry wisdom and photography portfolio, a day in the life of Rick McCrank; and a special edition of The Chrome Ball Incident exploring the job of team management with Crailtap’s Sam Smyth, Tum Yeto’s Mike Sinclair and Habitat Skateboards’ Brennan Conroy, and more. Click the mag to explore more.

An introduction from Jaime Owens, founder and director, originally published in Closer Skateboarding Issue #1

Closer Skateboarding founder and director Jaime Owens.

Jaime Owens by Mike Heikkila for Slam City Skates | Text originally published in Closer Skateboarding #1, Summer 2022.

A lifetime dedicated to a useless wooden toy has led to this moment in my life. What you hold in your hands is a physical and tangible part of my entire being: my love for skateboarding. One of the best things about it is that it’s part of you as well. You wouldn’t be reading this if it weren’t. Our shared fascination with this toy and the culture that surrounds it means so much and has brought indescribable joy to us over the years. In a world that has an abundance of serious problems that demand our attention, it’s nice to know that we’ve found something, or some way, to escape it. Skateboarding is that escape, but it goes much deeper than that. It’s a way of life and it’s a way of looking at the world differently. Through the years, we’ve seen our heroes come and go while some have maintained, however the core of skateboarding has always stayed the same: the thrill of the ride. That’s what I want to capture with this magazine and with this brand in general—the eternal stoke of riding a skateboard which keeps us young, and the culture that it birthed, which has given it meaning to us beyond a passing fad.

I want to give a little background on who I am and why this magazine matters to me. I wrote about this in the first issue of TransWorld I worked on, but I think it’s good to revisit for context. I grew up in Florence, South Carolina, and started skating around 1984-85. It changed my life, like it did for so many of us here now. I was hooked and never looked back. I always identified so much with the outcast, weirdo, misfits, freaks-and-geeks vibe that skateboarding offered. It was the subculture to the mainstream, and I loved that. I loved feeling like we knew something cool that the masses didn’t know. Along with punk rock, skateboarding shaped my worldview and how I saw everything around me. 

As years went by and I saw friends I grew up skating with giving up and moving on to other things, I couldn’t stop. It never crossed my mind. I knew this was the coolest thing in the world to be doing. I always knew I was never going to be a sponsored skater, but I knew that I wanted to maybe, just maybe, try to move to California one day and get into the industry. Whatever the hell that meant. But it was just one of those far-fetched dreams you have growing up in a small town, where you feel like you’re a million miles away from anything cool. 

As I continued skating into my early 20s and graduated from college with no clear direction in life, I started to catch some very warranted grief from my dad. He probably thought I was the biggest slacker ever. He had just paid for four years of college, and every time he asked I could never give him a concrete answer on what I was going to do with the Art degree he’d just financed. I mean, by the age of 21, my dad was a Vietnam War Silver Star recipient for gallantry in battle. He was a man’s man. I, on the other hand, was a 24-year-old man-child who, even after graduating from college, was still working in a record store, singing in a hardcore band and skating in all my free time. I waved off his concerns with: “I’ll figure it out, Dad. Just give me time.” 

Time was something he didn’t have. 

My dad was diagnosed with an aggressive lung cancer soon after I graduated college. I dropped everything and went to live with him while he fought what we all knew to be an unwinnable battle. During one of those days when we were just hanging out and ignoring the obvious, I showed him a recent video part that I’d filmed. He was blown away by how much I’d improved since those early years of skating under his small carport for hours on end. I never heard him talk so proudly of my skateboarding before; I soaked up every word. He asked why I didn’t do something with that for a career. I told him I wasn’t good enough to be sponsored, but would love to move to California and get into the skate industry. He then said, plain and simple, “What’s holding you back? Go out there and do it!” I replied, “Because I’m scared!” His next response eventually changed my life forever: “Well, how will you ever know if you don’t try?”

A short time later, my dad passed away. After a few months of trying to process what had just happened, I made the decision to go for it. I grabbed my friend Matt Bradley and we hit the road in October 1999. With only my skateboard, a few changes of clothes, and some of my favorite punk records, we left all of our friends and family behind, with only one contact for an old friend from elementary school who lived in LA and wasn’t even a skater. We just drove west into the unknown.

Somehow, things worked out in California. I was able to miraculously sustain a 20-year career of making skateboard magazines at Skateboarder and TransWorld. Holy shit—that still blows my mind to this day. The whole time, I always thought that I didn’t belong here. I felt that I wasn’t supposed to really be in this position. It was like someone left the back door open to a cool party and I somehow snuck in uninvited and was waiting for someone to kick me out. That always played in the back of my mind, all the way to the end of my time at TransWorld in 2021. 

Apparently, self-doubt is part of my makeup. But after a good year of being jobless and taking time to reflect on my life, I said, “Fuck that! I belong. I belong because I’m a skateboarder, and nobody owns this shit. I can love it just as much as the next skater. And I’m in a unique position to continue to contribute to the culture and work with as many folks who feel the same way as I do to try to make some skateboard magic.” And that’s what I intend to do.

That spark that ignited in me almost four decades ago still burns as bright as ever, if not brighter. Always and forever.

I’m so honored to have you all along for the journey. This is our journey. And it’s only the beginning.

[Sorry for those f-bombs, Mom. Thank you for buying me my first skateboard and always believing in me.]

— Jaime Owens, Closer Skateboarding Issue #1 (Spring 2022)

‘Homemade’ — Closer Skateboarding Commercial, 2024

Learn more about Closer over at Slam City Skates, Beyond Boards Podcast, Kinda Bummed, and with Jaime Owens on The Nine Club.

Contact and Communications for Closer Skateboarding

Email: jaime@closerskate.com

Instagram: @closerskateboarding

YouTube: @CloserSkateboarding

Mailing: Closer Skateboarding LLC, 905 Calle Negocio #74261, San Clemente, CA, 92673

Press for Closer Skateboarding

“A premium offering for the big brain skate consumer […] a coffee table essential … Whether you’re an old-school history nerd or a contemporary connoisseur Closer has something for everyone.”

Cardiff Skateboard Club (Wales)

“The best parts of magazines from all eras of skateboarding.”

The Palomino Club (UK)

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