ET:  There's some common ground between skateboarding and art, though skating is a lot different in 2007 than when I started out in 1985. Then, skaters were very much an alienated group — the kind of kids who weren't into team sports and weren't particularly liked around school. It was much more about individuals: punkers drawing their own fliers, making tapes, and putting out zines. As that scene evolved, people got into photography and putting out magazines, but it was all very natural and organic, with a much cleaner and clearer connection between skate and art. Now, with big business and stuff like the X Games, there's more of a jock element, so it's gone from something that you'd get your ass kicked for doing to BMOC status. But what I think skating has in common with art is that it's an unjustifiable recreation. Many people can be good at it, but that part is really up to interpretation — which seems a lot like art.

ET:  Mark Gonzales is a great example of that. Just watching him walk down the street, you can tell he sees the world differently from anyone else. Even when I'm walking, I still see stuff as potential skate obstacles. Skating does transform you as a person from just existing in the world to being much more aware of your environment.

ET:  The beautiful part of being a pro skater is that I don't have to negotiate the art market. My galleries line up stuff for me to do, and I just do it. Sometimes I get bummed when people are telling me about some gallery I've never even heard of, but then I think back to what it really means to not have to think about all that. I have a lot of friends who are deeply involved in the art world to the point where it drives them crazy, so I enjoy not knowing. Being self-taught works both ways. There are times when I definitely wish I could manipulate paint in better ways, but a lot of the response I get from people is that my work may come across as more sincere.

ET:  Everybody involved in that exhibition, especially myself, has a huge amount of discomfort. I do own a skateboard company, so some of the graphics I make are commercial, but I take a lot of pains to keep my fine art and Toy Machine separate. There's been a lot of product art associated with Beautiful Losers, but I'm not really part of that. I can't see signing some skateboard I designed so that it can go on sale for a few bucks more. I'm happy that the book and the exhibition were so successful, but I've got strange feelings towards any kind of branding and marketing.

There are a lot of people who fully understand the difference between fine art and skate art, but of course, I'm going to resent any way that we're lumped together. We all do lots of different things, and I take my painting, my photography, and my company equally seriously.

ET:  Well, how we should get out of here is a constant conversation for Deanna and me. Part of it is that, as a pro skater, my industry is based here, and part of it is that this is where I grew up, so it's home. But skateboarding allowed me to travel the world, and that showed me that where I live is totally messed up. That perspective has fueled me and been a source for my art. As a photographer, I couldn't help but be interested in the situation I was in, being around so many kids living hard, fast lives, really young and famous. But I'm also one of those guys, just like Larry Clark was one of the druggy losers he photographed, so it's not an outsider view. The book I'm working on, Deformer, takes its title from our friend Mike Mills' movie about growing up in the suburbs. The deformer describes what warps you, what deforms you into who you are.

ET:  Pat Tenore's a really generous guy who supports a lot of artists, so when he approached me about doing a magazine, I immediately thought of Aaron and Brendan. ANP is basically whatever we think of as cool, regardless of how hip it may be at the moment. It's really fun turning on the young hipsters that ANP reaches to stuff they might not otherwise think about. Like I collect old books, so if I really like something, I have this venue where I can track people down and talk to them for the magazine. For us, it also feels like giving back to the community. That's basically it: the freedom to do what we want, without having any other agenda, because the magazine is free, and it doesn't take advertising. It's wide open, so I'm interested in pushing beyond mainstream culture.

Ed Templeton's work is on view in Hymns for Demons at Tim Van Laere Gallery in Antwerp through October 20, and he is also represented by Roberts & Tilton Gallery in Los Angeles. He is following up his 2004 book The Golden Age of Neglect with Deformer, due to be published in 2008 by Rizzoli.