Skate Club Telč¶

Five years ago I moved to Telč with my family. Small Renaissance town, Czech highlands, five thousand people. No skatepark.

I bought ramps, protective gear and skates so kids who didn't own any could still show up and ride. I started sessions — twice a week, regular. The municipality listened, trusted the project, and cooperated closely.

In September 2026, a 59×19 metre skatepark opens in Telč. Bowl and street. An outcome of the community, not of one person.

What the club actually is¶

Not a sports club in the conventional sense. We don't train for competition, don't rank children by skill, and don't separate the kids who can already skate from the ones who are scared of the board.

We create a space where falling is part of the process. Where fear is acknowledged and worked through, not avoided. Where kids from the forest kindergarten and the community school skate alongside kids from everywhere else, and none of it matters except the shared experience of trying something hard.

The sessions sit somewhere between movement practice, coordination work, and learning to fall correctly — more in Movement & training. The body and the skateboard are the same kind of problem: find balance, accept imbalance, recover.

Why this connects to everything else¶

The same instinct that built the skate club built libdrone: take something that seems inaccessible — a sport with a reputation for difficulty, a hardware platform that requires engineering knowledge — and structure it, document it, lower the barrier until a beginner can show up and start.

The club's manifesto says: We don't wait for permission. We act. We build. We support. One trick, one session, one shared moment at a time.

That's also how the skatepark happened. And how I approach documentation. Same sentence every time.

SkateArtStudio¶

Each year we run an exhibition of art on skate decks — SkateArtStudio. Artists, the club, the community. Skateboarding and culture are not separate things.