As a kid in Chicago, Deacon and his friends often enjoyed hanging out near the railroad tracks that were adjacent to the brick apartments where they all lived.  The steel parallel lines functioned as balance beams to kill the boredom of youth.  Other times they became an exhilarating mode of transportation.  The crew would occasionally leap onto the boxcars as they passed, with the determination of evading the depot security.  They rode no further than the distance they wanted to walk home.  Some days the journey would be a few hundred feet and others, it turned into miles.

 

Winters were spent sledding down the side of a local overpass with various found objects.  The most effective tools were discarded hub caps and car mats.  The traffic that roared above was of no concern.  The crew's fixation was racing down the snow-covered slope that ended jarringly by launching from a curb into an alley below.

 

At the age of nine, Deacon moved to Florida.  Blizzards morphed into hurricanes as he left the trains, hub caps, and car mats behind.  They were exchanged for another adrenaline-charged activity, skateboarding.  Deacon was led to new ways of creative thinking and processing the landscape in the Sunshine State.  A curb, ledge, or embankment was no longer a passive concrete structure. They became obstacles to be reckoned with and puzzles to be solved.

 

This fresh perspective was accompanied by graphics that adorned the bottoms of the boards. Images reflected this new and intoxicating subculture.  It was an outlet that provided danger and required creative problem solving.  Deacon’s newfound identity was mobilized by urethane wheels and seven-ply maple.  Ultimately, becoming the vehicle that led to a lifelong artistic journey.