The New York City skate scene is notoriously difficult to define, a constantly shifting landscape of styles and influences. Yet, amidst this chaos, certain figures and collectives emerge, leaving a distinct mark. One such group is Late Nite Stars, known for their unique aesthetic that blends moth-eaten, graffiti-covered industrial dystopia. While a collaborative effort, the distinctive look of Late Nite Stars can be traced back, in part, to Zak Anders, a skater originally from San Antonio, Texas. Zak inadvertently sets trends with his raw, visceral, and clever video parts, consistently pushing the boundaries of skateboarding alongside his NYC-based Texan crew.
Now aligned with Scifi Fantasy and Asics, Zak has carved a comfortable niche for his brand of raw, gothically-influenced skateboarding. His upcoming closing part in Chase Walker’s film, The Circle, is highly anticipated and will undoubtedly solidify his status as a force to be reckoned with.
Over a casual conversation, Zak and I discussed his perceived intimidating persona, the impact of NYC on his artistic and skating processes, and even delved into topics like mosh pit etiquette. There’s surprisingly little information available about Zak, so this in-depth interview offers a rare glimpse behind the façade.
What would your life look like if you were still in Texas?
Texas wasn’t really working for me anymore. I was struggling to find a job, relying on Uber Eats to get by, and constantly short on cash. I did have a gig as the store artist for a bougie grocery store, doing chalkboard art and stuff, which was pretty cool. But that came to an end when they fired me because they thought I was a potential threat, that I was going to bring a gun to the store and start shooting. It was completely wild and honestly changed my life. I had to write an apology letter and everything.
Did they ever explain why they considered you a threat?
Not really. They pointed to some stuff I had up in the art room, like “What’s up with this?” It was just reference photos, including one with a neon sign of a gun that said “bang,” a very comic-style piece I was working on. The whole thing felt fabricated. That was the catalyst for me leaving San Antonio.
“Recontextualize me. I’m not scary. I like art that comes from dark places but I think it’s about the transformation of all that negativity.”
Why do you think people find you intimidating?
It’s actually quite upsetting. In almost every video we put out, there are comments like, “School shooter vibes.” I can’t really explain it. Maybe it’s the music I listen to, or the clothes I wear. I wish people wouldn’t say that. I saw a quote somewhere that really resonated: “Psycho killer, I wish you wouldn’t say that.” I truly love beauty and art, and while I’m drawn to the darker aspects of it, I believe it’s about the transformation of all that negativity.
Speaking of music, where did that Hypocrisy track come from for your part in The Circle? It’s Swedish death metal.
I appreciate you knowing that it’s Hypocrisy, because most people assume it’s Metallica. I never had anyone showing me music, so YouTube algorithms have been my guide. The Hypocrisy song came after years of exploring black metal and similar genres. One day, the algorithm suggested a backing track with no vocals of a Hypocrisy song, “The Final Chapter.” The video was visually striking, like metal but in vivid color. It was super melodic, and everything about it felt so unique. I’m fascinated by the imagery of metalheads with long hair, cargo shorts, and combat boots.
Do you have any thoughts on mosh pit etiquette?
The pit is a wild place. Many people at shows don’t have skateboarding as an outlet, so the mosh pit is their form of physical expression. It’s where they release built-up energy after working all week. Because of that, I tend not to engage too much. I inevitably get pulled in, maybe because I’m taller, but people seem determined to get me into the pit. I just put on my steel-toed boots and go with the flow, but I’m not really versed in mosh pit etiquette.
With so many new crews and videos emerging, how do you differentiate Late Nite Stars (LNS) videos?
With all due respect to Chase, we are all deeply involved in the process, and I believe that’s what ultimately defines the LNS vibe. Chase leads the charge, but Trung [Nguyen] has years of experience making videos, as does Nico [Marti]. Everyone has been on both sides of the camera, and we’re all very passionate about what we do.
It’s funny to think about the old days where the filmer would lock themselves in a room and create the whole video themselves. Now, there’s more emphasis on personality, and people are interested in who the skater is and their context. It’s almost like we’re going so far into this abstract realm of not caring how good skaters are.
What do you think of these ironic, “bad on purpose” skate videos?
The internet is full of irony, and I’m not really a fan. My role within the crew is to be sincere. I’m not trying to be funny. I don’t want to meme things. The word “irony” is far removed from what we’re trying to achieve. When you do that, you also create a distinct timestamp for your work, and I don’t think it ages very well.
So, when you create an impossibly tiny LNS logo t-shirt, that’s not irony?
I think that was more of an act of defiance. Speaking for myself, the world doesn’t need another t-shirt brand. We all enjoy making graphics, and making shirts is a fun process, but we’re aware that we’re just adding to the pile of “stuff”. I don’t even like doing it, but that was our form of protest. We thought, “Ok, we’ll make a classic logo shirt, but the logo will be illegibly small.” It was a prank on making what people wanted us to make. We played ourselves, though, because no one bought them.
“The things I do aren’t a joke. The word irony is so far removed from what we’re trying to do.”
Do you think you’re more creative in Texas or New York?
Lately, I’ve been fantasizing about the isolation of Texas, because New York can be a bit distracting. I pay a lot of attention to what everyone else is doing, it’s hard to ignore. It’s nice to see other people who are similar to you, and coming from a small town, I always wanted that. In Texas, I always felt different. In New York, I feel like part of a community, and the biggest change is that no one is looking at me.
In Texas, I constantly felt judged. In New York, no one cares. Everyone has so much going on that they don’t have time to think about what I’m doing. I love that. It was such a relief. I could fully be myself and do my thing. I also had this idea that people here would be rude, but they’re actually really supportive. If someone needs help, someone is always there.
Is the grass always greener?
No, I’m trying to be grateful. I’m happy to be in New York, surrounded by interesting and inspirational people. I appreciate the community, but it’s funny how sometimes I think, “I had that idea too.” New York makes you work quickly but it also constantly makes you reevaluate what you truly want to do.
How has New York influenced your style of skateboarding?
When I was in Texas, I was skating with a bunch of bowl riders. I was definitely trying to be “hesh”. I still love it, and it’s funny to look at the evolution. The style I’m into now didn’t exist then. People can skate small now. Polar was just emerging when I was coming up, and I was inspired by their artistic approach, doing things that weren’t overly difficult or dangerous. That was a turning point. The word “tasteful” comes to mind. That elevated skateboarding, and I believe that skating is going through a renaissance of being less about difficulty and machismo.
I agree, there’s a definite divide between macho skateboarding and more artistic, tasteful skating.
There are still “athletes” pushing the limits. It’s similar to art, where it’s not about realism or technique, but about feeling. That’s what’s important now. In skateboarding, everyone is good, so the act of doing it for the sake of doing it is more prevalent. We reached a point where people were doing really gnarly stuff, and the boundaries are constantly being pushed. But is that what we really want to see? What truly inspires us? It’s about doing it and inspiring others. That’s why people are drawn to these small crews with no ulterior motive. Going back, there’s always been a counter to the athletic side. Like Neil Blender. That’s always been a part of skating, and that’s what makes it more nuanced than just a sport.
Speaking of art, what’s your favorite thing to draw?
I haven’t drawn in a while, so I’m a bit out of practice. But for a long time, I was really into drawing hands. They’re incredibly expressive and challenging. It took me a long time to get them right. Plants are also fun because you don’t have to worry too much about the shape, you can figure it out as you draw.
“I love detail. Not arbitrary detail, but having a lot. Why not say a lot?”
How would you describe your artistic aesthetic?
Defining your own aesthetic is tough. “Overload” is a good word, like maximalism. I used to be disappointed in myself for not being a minimalist because for a long time there was a big emphasis on minimalism. Everyone thinks that minimalism is the best option, but I love detail. Not arbitrary detail, but having a lot. Why not include a bunch of things? Why not say a lot?
There are a lot of religious undertones in your art. What do you believe happens after we die?
Let me grab a beer for that one. That’s a deep question. I was raised religiously, and it’s still a significant part of my life, though my relationship with religion is different now. I see spirituality as distinct from religion, and I consider myself spiritual, but I don’t fully understand it yet. The only thing that brings me peace about death is the idea that I will cease to exist. That’s the only thing I can comprehend. Ultimately, it’s not something I need to worry about. If I fully cease to be, then I won’t be around.
Why do you like to use religious imagery so much?
It’s what I’ve always known. I also believe there’s a certain beauty in admitting that there’s something greater than yourself. I think it’s important to acknowledge that humanity is not the end-all-be-all, that there may be a higher power. Even in day-to-day life, sometimes you sense something extra.
I’ve been coming to terms with how insignificant I am. The universe isn’t watching me, and my actions aren’t so dire. It’s almost a relief. I’m just here, and I’m happy to be. It’s an ongoing internal debate, constantly dealing with my upbringing in the South. I went to private school, I was very involved in that culture. As much as I’ve always had doubts, there’s still an inevitable connection to the unknown.
“I’ve been coming to terms with how unimportant I am. The universe is not watching me and my actions are not so dire.”
Gifted Hater was one of the first to talk about LNS, which boosted your popularity. What’s it like being on the SciFi team with him now?
I actually knew Joa [Fields] before all of that. I met him randomly when I was in LA last year. He was already the Hater at the time, so we knew who he was, and I think his video about Trung really put us on the map. That brought us a lot of attention, and the timing was perfect. Late Nite Stars is definitely more relevant because of Gifted Hater. We owe him a lot.
The first day of our trip, I showed up late, and everyone was already in the Airbnb, so I went straight to sleep. The next morning, I woke up and Joa already had the camcorder out, ready to film. I knew that was coming, but it’s funny trying to riff with Joa early in the morning. I’m not really a morning person. But, as much as he was creating content, he was so respectful and chill. He knows how to do it, and he can just be himself. That’s the thing that freaked me out, thinking, “Oh, man, a YouTuber,” but he’s genuinely cool. He balances it well.
How much credit do you think LNS deserves for making Asics cool?
I don’t even know if it’s cool. I still see comments from people who are not into it. But I have been seeing the shoes more and more, so I think it’s gaining traction. It takes time for any brand entering the skateboarding scene.
Honestly, I was just bored with the current state of things. I didn’t know what shoes to wear. Every shoe felt like you were trying to make a statement. There was no neutral option. I started wearing Globes because I wanted nothing to do with any of it. I didn’t want to make a statement, but with skate shoes, it’s difficult to avoid that. I wore Jordan 1s for a bit, but they’re hard to get. With Asics, the benefit was that it wasn’t cool. We liked it because it had no existing context. It was new, and we had the chance to make it our own. We could wear it and not try to be anyone else. Personally, every time a video comes out, people accuse me of ripping off other skaters, like Ben Kadow or Ville Wester. It is what it is, and I can’t worry about it too much, but I loved the neutrality of Asics.
I think many people are experiencing what I was, and obviously, I’m a product of skateboarding culture. I’m reacting to it in the same way that others are. I’m sure many people have this desire to find something new. I’m not “hesh,” I’m not a “Love Park guy,” I don’t really have a particular identity that I affiliate with.
Are some of your aesthetic choices purely to be contrarian?
That’s an internal struggle, living with my own contrarian nature. I don’t want to be that brutal punk that hates everything, and I’m trying to let go of that mindset. That’s what’s tricky about the ironic path. I don’t want to go down that route. I don’t want to make fun of skateboarding because I love it. I’m from a time and a place where skateboarding was all I had, so I’m not here to make fun of it. I don’t hate it, I love it.
“I don’t want to be this brutal punk that hates everything that people like.”
I think we’ve been placed in this “anti-style” category, but I don’t mind it. I also think it’s good to challenge the status quo, and pushing boundaries results in progress. It’s fun to prod things a bit, but to do that, you need to satisfy the core. If I was fully trolling and trying to torture the old heads, it wouldn’t have the same effect. I wouldn’t like it myself.
Is it annoying when the things you do to be contrarian end up becoming popular?
I used to have these delusions of grandeur, thinking, “Ahhh, they’re copying me,” but I’ve recently realized that I don’t believe that anymore. I’ve stopped believing I’m a trendsetter. I don’t think people are copying me, even though I used to strongly feel that way.
I think I’m accidentally archetypal. We’re all reacting to the same media. I remind myself of that often. We’re consuming content that’s seen by a lot of people, so our ideas are not always original. We’re reacting to stimuli. All that stuff, like ripped jeans and everything else, I’m looking at the fashion world and downtown kids. I also struggle with the fact that I’m from the Rural South. I’m not going to wear something that doesn’t represent who I am. For me, ripped jeans and camo are real. So I’d rather claim it than have someone else get credit for it. I’m claiming it for Texas.
Who or what do you look to outside of skateboarding for influence?
I try to blend everything, so I avoid focusing too much on one person. Alan Vega from Suicide, is amazing. He made visual art, and the way he carried himself was so unapologetic. At the time it was kind of out of nowhere. He wasn’t well-received, but he had a brutal confidence about being a freak, and that’s inspiring. I appreciate him, because he probably didn’t feel much appreciation in his life. It’s cool to know that something you do can impact someone seemingly unrelated.
He was focused on pioneering and progressing. He didn’t hate what was going on, he just wanted more. That’s how I feel about skating. I don’t hate anything about skating, but I want it to evolve. Creatively, he inspires me. Nothing mattered. His early shows were met with disdain. It’s not like I’m him, but I admire that energy. The pure creative spirit.
“If you don’t like your own sauce, why are you even cooking?”
What’s the worst piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Woah, damn. I think the concept of having to hate yourself, the idea that if you like your own stuff, you’re considered whack. What? You have to like what you’re doing to a degree. You don’t want to be full of yourself, but the incessant “Be more humble” thing feels unsatisfying. If you don’t like your own sauce, why are you even cooking?
Interview by: Ben Komins
Photos Courtesy of: Rowan Liebrum and Patrick Woodling
