Post by brokenicarus on May 4, 2007 3:59:51 GMT -5
Hey guys, thought you'd get a kick outta this. I'm writing one of my final papers for art history tonight on museums, what they do to art and what we classify as art, I decided to use the SR to show there're things out there worth speculating about that most art historians don't even sniff at. it's bloody late, i know this paper's crap because I'm completely incoherent, but give it a quick scan if you're looking for a laugh:P
There are items that historically must be removed from their environments by the museum or the critic and placed on a pedestal before they are examined as art objects, every day things that people desire or use but seldom scrutinize aesthetically. The motorcycle is a perfect example, a machine perceived by the unenthused as the consummate immature toy, an object ripe for fetishization and obsession. It is flashy, roaring and obnoxious, and instantly gratifying, easily spilling its operator all over the road because of their inability to temper their desires. Worse, the motorbike is quickly psychoanalyzed, because of its mounting position and penetration through space, as a self-conscious masculine extension of the phallus, with no more investigation needed. It must be conceded, the motorcycle can be all of these things, it is also simply a utilizable machine, but there are layers of interpretation that go beyond the simple (and Freudian) readings.
The motorcycle is created as a commodity, it is a designed product that must change with the market, it is designed to sell and be consumed. But like the museum, the modern motorcycle perpetuates the myths of perfection, permanence, and immortality; in order to understand the art motorbikes should be studied as they exist, not removed from their environment or shining and new. In motion and aging, a creature of rust and hiccoughs, temperamental and idiosyncratic, the vintage motorcycle defies permanence. For this reason we should look a customized and vintage Japanese motorcycle, a 1978 Yamaha SR500, in its journey from out of the factory condition to that of a personalized racer (Fig. 5,6,7).
Beyond its utility, the motorcycle can be seen in the same terms as the bicycle, both being unique creations in that they allow the operator complete control over their mount’s superhuman movement with the least amount of isolation from the external world. Although a car can propel bodies at greater speed, it is a cage, the operator is cut off physically from their own movement and so the impact of that speed is negligible. A motorbike not only exposes its rider, it also leans to change direction, requiring complete bodily input from the operator for smoothest effect. Motorcycle aesthetics definitely mirror this balletic and graceful motion, note in figure 5 the curling, rounded aspect of every constructed piece. This feeling of extraordinary mobility and power is critical to understanding the motorcycle, and the desire for it becomes a conscious or a subconscious motivation in the race builder. Thus, build cannot be a simple question of utility, because the extra factor of mass to movement must be considered. True, a lighter motorcycle has more power, but aesthetically the reduction of mass reduces the machine, increasing the ratio of human to object, making that movement through space all the more satisfying and ecstatic. Notice the difference between Figures 5 and 6, where as the motorcycle loses volume, the rider must crouch closer to the machine because of handlebar placement. Practically, the rider does gain more control, but the element of blurring the line between man and machine with a more intimate posture is certainly a factor.
If motorcycles are understood as vehicles of individuality, personalization can be seen as a huge facet of their artistry. For if we were able to drop the museum’s notion of art mediums, the motorcycle can be understood as a unique and satisfying canvas. Figure 7 further reduces bulk from the vehicle design, but it also adds alterations to the vehicle that make it unlike any other, options as aesthetically deliberated as the choice of medium for a painter or the placing of a window for an architect. The satisfaction is almost shamanistic, demystifying the mechanical workings of a complex and highly energetic machine and adding marks to it that identify machine to man, and man to machine.
Essentially, the personal motorcycle becomes a focus for artistic energies that can be utilized functionally every day. On the surface the motorbike may seem the epitome of exhibition, but all phallic and sexual references aside, imagine the feeling of moving along, nearer to air than anything else, spirited forward at inhuman speeds on a object that you yourself crafted, knowing every facet of it, and knowing, like all true art forms, that its physical appearance is an extension of your being. This most fulfilling and introspective of experiences is desirable in any obsessive craft, but the utility of the motorcycle certainly helps with its achievement. It would be a disservice to the art world to discredit such a category of creation at face value.
Figure 5
Figure 6
Figure 7
There are items that historically must be removed from their environments by the museum or the critic and placed on a pedestal before they are examined as art objects, every day things that people desire or use but seldom scrutinize aesthetically. The motorcycle is a perfect example, a machine perceived by the unenthused as the consummate immature toy, an object ripe for fetishization and obsession. It is flashy, roaring and obnoxious, and instantly gratifying, easily spilling its operator all over the road because of their inability to temper their desires. Worse, the motorbike is quickly psychoanalyzed, because of its mounting position and penetration through space, as a self-conscious masculine extension of the phallus, with no more investigation needed. It must be conceded, the motorcycle can be all of these things, it is also simply a utilizable machine, but there are layers of interpretation that go beyond the simple (and Freudian) readings.
The motorcycle is created as a commodity, it is a designed product that must change with the market, it is designed to sell and be consumed. But like the museum, the modern motorcycle perpetuates the myths of perfection, permanence, and immortality; in order to understand the art motorbikes should be studied as they exist, not removed from their environment or shining and new. In motion and aging, a creature of rust and hiccoughs, temperamental and idiosyncratic, the vintage motorcycle defies permanence. For this reason we should look a customized and vintage Japanese motorcycle, a 1978 Yamaha SR500, in its journey from out of the factory condition to that of a personalized racer (Fig. 5,6,7).
Beyond its utility, the motorcycle can be seen in the same terms as the bicycle, both being unique creations in that they allow the operator complete control over their mount’s superhuman movement with the least amount of isolation from the external world. Although a car can propel bodies at greater speed, it is a cage, the operator is cut off physically from their own movement and so the impact of that speed is negligible. A motorbike not only exposes its rider, it also leans to change direction, requiring complete bodily input from the operator for smoothest effect. Motorcycle aesthetics definitely mirror this balletic and graceful motion, note in figure 5 the curling, rounded aspect of every constructed piece. This feeling of extraordinary mobility and power is critical to understanding the motorcycle, and the desire for it becomes a conscious or a subconscious motivation in the race builder. Thus, build cannot be a simple question of utility, because the extra factor of mass to movement must be considered. True, a lighter motorcycle has more power, but aesthetically the reduction of mass reduces the machine, increasing the ratio of human to object, making that movement through space all the more satisfying and ecstatic. Notice the difference between Figures 5 and 6, where as the motorcycle loses volume, the rider must crouch closer to the machine because of handlebar placement. Practically, the rider does gain more control, but the element of blurring the line between man and machine with a more intimate posture is certainly a factor.
If motorcycles are understood as vehicles of individuality, personalization can be seen as a huge facet of their artistry. For if we were able to drop the museum’s notion of art mediums, the motorcycle can be understood as a unique and satisfying canvas. Figure 7 further reduces bulk from the vehicle design, but it also adds alterations to the vehicle that make it unlike any other, options as aesthetically deliberated as the choice of medium for a painter or the placing of a window for an architect. The satisfaction is almost shamanistic, demystifying the mechanical workings of a complex and highly energetic machine and adding marks to it that identify machine to man, and man to machine.
Essentially, the personal motorcycle becomes a focus for artistic energies that can be utilized functionally every day. On the surface the motorbike may seem the epitome of exhibition, but all phallic and sexual references aside, imagine the feeling of moving along, nearer to air than anything else, spirited forward at inhuman speeds on a object that you yourself crafted, knowing every facet of it, and knowing, like all true art forms, that its physical appearance is an extension of your being. This most fulfilling and introspective of experiences is desirable in any obsessive craft, but the utility of the motorcycle certainly helps with its achievement. It would be a disservice to the art world to discredit such a category of creation at face value.
Figure 5
Figure 6
Figure 7
