From Retail Park to Skate Spot: The Hidden Skatepark in Ancoats, Manchester
- Marzio Callegari
- May 1
- 4 min read
What They Built Here
Disclaimer: If you are in the photos and would like a copy or would like to be credited, contact me on Instagram at @marzimedia. See Gallery
A hidden skatepark in Manchester, built by a community inside an abandoned retail park near Ancoats. This photo series documents the people, the space, and how it was used before redevelopment takes over.
This used to be a retail park. For many people, Toys “R” Us was the main attraction. Now it is leftover concrete, splintered wood, rubble, and shrubs growing through the cracks — the exact kind of place your parents would tell you to stay away from. But people showed up anyway and built something out of it.
I remember spending much of my savings and allowance here on weekends as a kid.
This former retail park became a space adopted by a community of skaters. They built their own obstacles and ramps, skated, made videos, and just existed. It’s interesting to think that kids purchasing their first skateboards in this very retail park might be skating in the exact spot where they paid for it years later, even if only for a short while.
Discovering the Hidden Skatepark in Manchester
I would always hear the low rumble of wheels gliding along the concrete, the clap of a board landing a trick, and people cheering and laughing whenever I walked by — but because a high metal fence covered the area, I never really noticed where it was coming from. Once it was on my mind, I began peeking behind the fence and looking over it from a nearby bridge over the Ancoats canal, where I could see an open space with graffiti and groups of people skating.
After a month-long hospital admission, I was trying to get out of the house more with my camera, so I agreed to a social media photoshoot. The theme was urban, and we were drawn to graffiti, signs, barriers, and rubble. As we wanted to use a smoke bomb, an abandoned open area felt more suitable than the city centre, so we went to the old retail park.
Having spent time around skaters, and even earning a few cuts and bruises myself when I was younger, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. So as soon as I got the chance, I began going to watch—and bringing my camera along.
The Skate Community Behind the Spot
At first, I had the usual anxiety that comes with photographing strangers. What if they don’t want to be photographed? Will I be welcome? And in this particular case, what if I get in the way and earn a board to the head? I imagined a large group of friends who had been hanging out for a long time, and that I would stand out like a voyeur from a distance. Instead, I was surprised to find out it was in no way organised like this.
It was more made up of people skating alone, or in very small groups. In fact, it was often difficult to track down some of the people I had photographed, as others weren’t always able to identify them. The space brought together newcomers, filmmakers, seasoned pros, spectators, and photographers—each person working on their technique and waiting their turn to approach an obstacle.
What’s more, nobody had any issue with me taking photos of them. It was such a pleasant experience—there was no pressure to get the right shot, and no worry about when I arrived or left. I turned it into a personal project, a way of practising techniques and finding new ways to capture quick movements and interesting angles.
Rethinking the Space
It makes sense that the site would eventually be repurposed. Part of the former Central Retail Park is being turned into public green space, while a significant section is set to become the Manchester Digital Campus — a government office hub focused on digital and technology roles. On paper, connecting Ancoats to New Islington Marina sounds positive. But in a city centre already filled with office space, it is hard not to question what gets lost when informal community spaces disappear, or when the needs of a group of people are ignored.
What feels important to acknowledge is the resourcefulness behind it. People saw an opportunity in a forgotten space and made something useful from it. They built, repaired, filmed, practised, gathered, and created a place where they could thrive — without funding, permission, or any expectation of recognition. Whether they knew it would eventually disappear, or simply hoped it might last, there is something rare and dedicated in that.
Could the landowners consider acknowledging the community that gave the area purpose at its worst—when it was rough, uneven, and unsafe? Who knows—if it genuinely becomes open, usable green space, even for the skater community, that would be a welcome surprise.
Photography Notes: Shooting Skaters:
This series of photographs is actually made up of hundreds of images, the best of which I will use as part of a much bigger project. That being said, I will display many of them between my website gallery and Instagram.
Shooting this series taught me the importance of shutter speed and ISO with fast-moving subjects — thank God for burst mode on modern cameras, by the way. I had to consider that a skater might jump in front of a direct light source, and that I wasn’t always in control of where I was standing when taking photos.
It was a fast-paced but fun environment. I often found myself following a skater from one side of the park to the other while using burst mode, or staying in one location and capturing multiple attempts at a trick. Some of the best shots came while I was trying to figure things out — for example, when the foreground was focused instead of the subject, or when the movement of the subject was blurred. To quote Bob Ross, “There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.”
Should the skaters be acknowledged in the new plans?
Yes — they gave the space life
No — it was always temporary
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