We are the bug that never gets fixed, the noise that never
quiets, the crooked line that turns into art. We step out of
the margins because that’s where everything begins.
We weren’t born to please; we were born to annoy, to
unsettle, to shout with worn-out soles, to scrape concrete
with our bodies and give meaning back to what has none.
We are the bastard child of punk and the streets — raw,
unfiltered, no plan B, no money.
We don’t sell boards, we sculpt rage. Every graphic is a kick
to boredom’s face; every shape, a weapon for those who won’t
give up. It’s not for fame, hype, or glamour — it’s to burn
that never-dying flame inside.
We don’t believe in clean progress; we believe in evolution
with scars, in falling as part of the process, and failure as
freedom.
We have no bosses and follow no rules — and if we do, we
break them afterward. We don’t want to be part of the
industry; we aim to destroy it from within, laughing all the
way.
VOID THIS™ is for those who live on the edge, for those who make
art out of what others discard, for those who film, skate,
edit, and breathe without asking permission. For those who
bleed and try again. For those who will never fit in because
they know that’s a gift.
We are fire on wheels. We are the streets with no map.
IGNITE.
‘Cause We are V.