As San Francisco’s legendary Embarcadero Plaza disappears from the city’s landscape, photographer and filmmaker Jacob Rosenberg is ensuring its legacy endures. Widely regarded as the birthplace of modern street skateboarding, EMB shaped an entire generation of skaters and transformed the way the sport interacted with urban architecture. Now, as the plaza undergoes demolition and its iconic Vaillancourt Fountain is dismantled, Rosenberg’s acclaimed exhibition ÉPICENTRE arrives in Paris during Men’s Fashion Week.
The exhibition marks a poignant full-circle moment. In 1991, Paris-based No Way Magazine became the first publication in the world to recognise the cultural significance of EMB, publishing Rosenberg’s photographs long before American skate media fully grasped what was happening in San Francisco. Thirty-five years later, Rosenberg returns to the city that first championed his work with a collection of 70 photographs and video installations documenting the skaters who defined the era, including Mike Carroll, Jovontae Turner, Chico Brenes, Rick Ibaseta, James Kelch, and Karl Watson.
Part historical document, part personal archive, ÉPICENTRE captures more than skateboarding. Rosenberg’s images preserve the friendships, architecture, style, and relentless progression that made EMB a cultural epicentre whose influence continues to reverberate through skateboarding, fashion, and contemporary visual culture. As the physical site vanishes, his photographs stand as a testament to a community that changed the trajectory of street skating forever.
Schön! speaks with Rosenberg about his photographic beginnings, the unique energy of EMB, and why preserving these stories matters now more than ever.
Augusa Sagnelli
How would you describe your photographic style, and how did it evolve while documenting the EMB scene?
When I was first shooting, I don’t think that I had a “style,” any distinct approach, or even a sensibility. I was so young, and I shoved my camera close to the skaters or stepped back and shot from a more observational, documentary-type gaze. As my photography became successful with the French magazine I was working for, I spent all of my money on video camera equipment, which eventually led me to filmmaking as my primary platform, and the photographs became an afterthought.
Many of your images capture not just the action of skateboarding but the architecture, light, and energy of a place. What are you looking for in a frame beyond the trick itself?
It was always simply a curiosity about the subject. If there was no skateboarding, I would just look in a direction, see a frame, and shoot it. I was never classically trained, so there is an imperfection that is charming to see when I look back on the work. When shooting tricks, I was never conscious of my frame or the surrounding elements; I always focused on movement and making sure I captured what was essential to the trick being showcased. Again, it’s the lack of formal education or training as a photographer that makes the photos feel precious when I look back at them now.
Many people describe EMB as the birthplace of modern street skateboarding. From your perspective behind the camera, what made the spot so influential compared to other skate locations of the time?
EMB really was the centre of the universe for modern street skating, and it’s two things, in my opinion. First, the environment allowed you to learn a trick on a low curb, then take it to a low ledge, then a higher ledge, and then an even higher ledge. It enabled progression without going anywhere else. As lines became more important in street skating, the fact that you could string together so many different types of tricks on different obstacles encouraged a pursuit of perfection, cleanliness, style, and trick selection.
The second factor is San Francisco itself. Tommy Guerrero was such an important street skater, and the city offered endless terrain. The kids who grew up worshipping Tommy were motivated to make their mark and contribute to the culture in a place that felt like their own. The entire ecosystem of San Francisco supported this sense of moving skateboarding forward.
The exhibition captures skaters such as Mike Carroll, Jovontae Turner, Chico Brenes, Rick Ibaseta, James Kelch, and Karl Watson during a transformative era. What qualities united that generation and made EMB such a catalyst for progression?
Everyone was just so hungry and so different. Every skater looked different and had their own unique style. They were sponsored by different companies, and that influenced who they looked to for inspiration. What unified this group was that they found community and family with each other. Within that dynamic, they pushed, protected, and encouraged their peers in a way that made you feel you needed to step up to your potential — and you would be celebrated for it.
I have vivid memories of filming skaters doing a trick that someone else may have already done, but it was the first time they had done it. Everyone would cheer because they knew that person had pushed through something difficult. It was special to witness from the outside.
Augusa Sagnelli
Your work documents not just skateboarding, but friendships, style, architecture, and the atmosphere of San Francisco in the early 1990s. How conscious were you of capturing a broader cultural moment beyond skateboarding itself?
I was not conscious of it at all. I had complete tunnel vision to film and shoot as much as I could. I felt such a deep connection to the skater I was shooting or filming, especially when I captured a trick or line they had been relentlessly pursuing. We’d get it, and there would be this indescribable sense of accomplishment and joy for them. I’d play it back on my camera, and there was this rich sense of pride and purpose when you saw them smile and knew you had done your job by capturing something that maybe had never happened before.
As far as the people, atmosphere, and architecture, I always let the camera roll. I always pointed it at people’s faces or moments of connection. I think because I always felt like an outsider, my lens was there for the rest of the world who couldn’t get that close. I was definitely conscious of how much I looked up to the talent and style of the skaters, and that I had the responsibility to film them well and get it right.
As the physical plaza disappears, what do you hope younger generations, who never experienced EMB firsthand, take away from ÉPICENTRE and the new edition of the monograph?
I hope they see that community and passion can create lasting change in culture and in the lives of others. People who never stepped foot in EMB got so much out of it, and that’s because of how much the skaters put into it. For younger generations, it’s important to keep moving forward with their own communities and progression. It’s good to know the history, but EMB is what it is because of the people who helped make it.
More broadly, I hope people continue to tell their own stories of EMB and continue to reinforce the significance of such a one-of-a-kind backdrop that remains central to San Francisco’s modern history and cultural relevance. When everything disappears, all we have are words, images, and stories. There are so many people who still need to share their perspectives and experiences. I’m grateful to have been able to share mine.
Learn more about the exhibition, which runs 24th June to 28th June, at gcsagency.com.
