Maik Grüner: The Cosmic Skate Wizard Who Never Stops Rolling.

Stylish move at Raakel’s micro, 2017.

Some portraits flow out like a gentle breeze on a summer’s day. But then there are those that slam into your face like a brick of cosmic truth—knocking the air out of you, making you question reality itself. Resting my fingers on this keyboard, this is one of those.

Maik Grüner. A name etched into the DNA of the skate community for over four decades. An enigma wrapped in leather, sweat, and old-school vinyl. He’s been kicking down doors, but still keeps a shadowy cloak of mystery around him—like a secret agent in the world of skateboarding, only cooler and with more bruises. Humble as a monk, living in the now, he moves like a ghost through time.

Bs carve grind in Võru bowl.

Think Maik’s just some guy who skates? Nah. This guy’s an institution. A creature of the ‘80s—he was there when the streets bled rebellion and the concrete jungles whispered secrets to those who dared to listen. A skater, a drummer, a graphic sorcerer who could make the stars align with just a pencil and a flick of his wrist.

Let’s backtrack. One day, in the magical land of childhood, Maik found himself staring at an old Rula board, owned by a classmate. This wasn’t just wood and wheels—it was the key to another world. He had to have it. It took a while, but eventually, Maik landed his own secondhand Rula, and thus began the most beautiful addiction known to humankind: skateboarding. Flat ground, slalom—he was a wizard, weaving through the streets like some skateboarding deity.

But the true turning point came when Maik’s eyes were assaulted by the wild, neon haze of Thrashin’. The movie that ruined lives and shaped legends. To anyone who’s ever seen it, the fever dream of that movie still haunts us. The Daggers gang, their vicious speed, the burning soundtrack—and hell, even the Red Hot Chili Peppers made an epic appearance. It was like being reborn in the fire of rebellion, the smell of burning urethane filling the air. And Maik? Well, he was forever altered.

Then came the banks. Maik and his partner in crime started skating banks, caught in a frenzy of energy that could only be described as pure, uncut adrenaline. They were obsessed—maybe it was Hook, the Daggers’ leader, or maybe it was just their shared, forbidden crush for Chrissy that kept them glued to the pavement. Who knows? But the world didn’t stand a chance.

Fakie disaster at not to be missed, not… Spot of Tallinn.

Soon, Maik was on a quest, hunting down fellow skaters in Tallinn like a man possessed. He’d hop on the trolley, day after day, to skate with an Uusmailm crew. They had asphalt—good, real asphalt, rare as a unicorn back then. They played soccer, they ate apples, (and talking about biting into the forbidden fruit from neighbors’ gardens), and of course, they skated. The world was simple. Yet everything was possible.

Ramp building at Raakel, 2017.

In the ‘90s, the hunt for fellow skaters was like chasing ghosts. Skating “gangs” were more myth than reality. But when Maik saw someone carrying a board, he’d sprint toward them, wild-eyed, checking if they were real or some fevered hallucination. If they were real, he’d get their contact info like some kind of skateboarding stalker. And don’t get me started on his dedication to getting the best setup—he crossed borders, hit Finland, Sweden, Latvia, and even got a firsthand look at Latvia’s notorious habit of lifting Independent trucks. Classic.

Fs grind at Raakel freshly renovated ramp.

But the true magic came in the mid-‘90s when the DIY spirit hit harder than a bad acid trip. The vision was clear: a mini ramp in a Viimsi car garage. The plywood was bought, the plans were set—until the material got stolen. Just like that. End of project. F*%K. But this is Maik, and if you think a little thing like that could stop him, you don’t know the man. The world may steal your plywood, but it can’t steal your will.

I am a jungle man I am a jungle man I am a jungle man. I get all the bush I can… RHCP. In here at Raakel’s jungle backyard ramp.

And then the 2000s arrived with all the chaos and beauty of a fever dream. Hailga. A wild place, where Maik skated and partied until the sun came up. He was an old skate rat, sure, but the kids were drawn to him like moths to a flame. And then came Surfhouse. They needed a logo. Maik, with the precision of a mad scientist, went home, drew the design in a trance, and birthed the iconic skate sticker that would go on every local deck. It’s still everywhere now. And don’t forget the wild icons he designed for Nightwood decks, the same ones that would haunt your dreams in the best possible way. Bad Teddy apparel? Yeah, he did that, too. Windmill Skateboards saw the light and let Maik doodle for them too. His art sticks like glue—it’s unforgettable, like the first time you land a perfect trick.

The new Windmill deck with Maik’s design, available here.

This summer, the crew gathered to celebrate Maik’s 50th birthday, blowing out 50 dynamite candles on a cake that smelled like pure chaos. His secret? It’s simple. Never stop. His new motto? “Time to watch out for big slams.” The man still rips, still scratches the coping, still haunts the parks, his body fighting the inevitable with every gnarly knee slide.

Võru skate trip, with Raakel.

Another skate trip in Võru, left tor right. Nico, Maik, Janar and Raakel.

Maik’s not just a skater—he’s a beat machine, too. Since his early days as a Soviet pioneer, he’s been commanding crowds with drumsticks in hand, moving through band after band, leading the charge with rhythmic fury. Val Tvoar, Pedigree—if it rocked, he’s been there. In 2000, he started East Trading Wang, landing a spot on the Little Nicky movie soundtrack. His closest comrade? Gusty Gustavson, a guy he met at a party. ‘You meet the best guys at parties!’—Maik’s words to live by. Their band, Truckthor, is still cranking out surreal, sonic adventures. And if you’re at a national soccer game, you’ll find Maik there, too, drumming with his samba band. It’s all part of his cosmic rhythm.

With Val Tvoar.

With Pedigree.

Truckthor—Estonia’s favorite duo, loud and legendary.

Maik may have never had a formal gallery opening since his days at the Estonian Academy of Arts back in ’98, but his work doesn’t need frames or walls. It’s out there—in the streets, in the shops, splashed across album covers. That’s the real exhibition—the one that’s lived and breathed by the people who know it.

And let’s not forget the documentary Eesti rula lugu by Ivar Murd and Taavi Arvus. Maik shared his story, but it wasn’t just him—he’d met with the man, Tom Lilienthal, who won two Kuldrula awards, rode for Viisnurk factory, and even tested wheels during the Soviet Union. The documentary was like a time machine, and Maik was one of the guides.

With Janar, leading the oldschool, barge at will !