In a message dated 10/15/03 7:57:57 PM, cnighbor@pacbell.net writes:
> I want to thanks Brain Baylis for writing such a wonderful dissertation
> on frame building...
>
>...we all should thank him. I agree with all he states and stands for. A
>lot of what he writes about applies to my profession, Architecture.
>Creatively is a very rare commodity.
I agree, and I have followed this thread with facination, not just the original topic but the several interesting tangents it has since taken. Some of us may have a vested interest, over and above a love of vintage bicycles... Every artist that produces art that is also functional (be they framebuilders, architects, furnituremakers, graphic artists, potters, clothing designers) is always held to a different standard than the so-called 'fine-artists' (painters, sculptors, printmakers). As both a (functional) artist and teacher, I have had many occasions to examine the prevailing standards and on many occasions have been called to defend myself against those who wish to somehow diminish functional artists by referring to them as 'craftsman' or 'artisans' and implying that their art, by its very functionality, is somehow not as worthy or as pure.
I find this attitude interesting in that we are required to attend to the functional aspects of our art as well as the aesthetic aspects and yet this task is often viewed by the lay person as being easier than that of the fine artist who attends to aesthetics only. I also find it interesting that so many people view art and function as mutually exclusive when they have been existing in harmony for tens of thousands of years (lets go all the way back to the cave paintings at Lascaux, created not as objects of beauty but as effigies to give the painter some measure of control over the pictured animal when he later went out to hunt. Their beauty may have been secondary, but certainly intentional).
And yet some people still somehow consider beauty a liability in a functional object. Plainness and simplicity (and even crudeness) is considered an advantage, as if any concession made to beauty will somehow impair functionality. Perhaps this springs from a puritanical streak (Shakers eschewed most decoration in their furniture, Mennonites painted the bumpers of cars black because chrome was considered ostentatious). Or perhaps it is an outgrowth of the industrial revolution and a reaction against Victorian and Art Nouveau embellishment, times in our history when decoration was so overdone it actually did impede function in many cases. But does that mean that there can be no art in the simple object? No, you just have to look a bit harder and adjust your eyes for the details.
Perhaps the most purely functional frames made today are the bare titanium frames from Seven or Litespeed or Airborne... No paint, little effort to smooth welds, no decoration of any kind aside from some simple decals (and Seven's admirably archaic and very beautiful headbadge). If we look at them as art objects, they do have a certain minimalist appeal, but they are most certainly an acquired taste, especially when compared to the frames that are the subject of this list.
At the other end of the spectrum could be the finely carved and embellished bikes from England (Hetchins, Condor, etc.) and the elaborate bikes of a few American builders. Here, certain concessions are made to weight in order to create what the builders (and their many fans) consider objects of lasting beauty. But to others they are too fancy, overbuilt, even gaudy. To them form does not follow function in this case because they perceive function (in the case of the bicycle) to be simplicity and light weight.
While I appreciate both extremes, between the two is my favorite, the finely-tuned lugged-steel road race frame. Light as a feather, but with the potential to still contain the full measure of art. Granted, many of the details that separate the art from the purely functional in this case are things that would be apparent only to the framebuilder or avid aficionado... but the details are there and they are no less art. If you examine the fine points of Shaker furniture or Japanese teabowls, you will see the same attention to subtle detail that characterizes them as both the highest and finest art AND objects of perfect functionality.
The art is certainly there. It just is not always apparent to the untrained eye. And here is where appreciation (as with any art form) takes a bit of dedication and work on the part of the observer. While some art may be so sublime and infused with energy that it becomes apparent to any observer that they are looking at something special, other works take a bit of investment. By that I don't mean stripping the paint and checking out file marks, I mean opening oneself up to the subtle creative decisions that are made along the way in the construction of a frame.
Naturally, this is not something you want to do while actually riding your bike. But maybe the next time you clean it (I don't need an excuse to just sit down and stare at my bike for a half-hour, but some folks might), ask yourself why the edge of a lug takes a particular curve and not another. Look at the relationship of the negative space of a cutout to the lug that contains that space. Check out the many unique ways builders choose to file stay ends at the dropouts. The many interesting ways the lines of four tubes can intersect at a seat lug. The many beautiful curves of a fork blade... These are all things that have a minimal effect on functionality (at least compared to things like tube thickness and diameter, frame geometry, tire selection, etc.) but they are what makes the bike frame transcend its function and become a true art object. Sure, we can ignore these things and just ride... But in so doing, aren't we missing out? It does not diminish the nourishment the body receives from an apple to appreciate it's beauty as the tree blossoms and the fruit ripens, nor does your car get any fewer miles per gallon when you take a moment to appreciate the contours of its grille or the sparkle of its paint before you hop in.
The sad thing is that most of the folks on this list are the only ones left who find any value in this search for beauty in the bicycle. I notice today that the substantive beauty in the bicycle frame has, in the modern machine, been replaced by the flashy beauty of surface. Colorful Sesame Street paint jobs seek to do what lugs and careful construction details used to do... attempt to supply the eye with the same satisfaction that a fine ride supplies the body and a beautiful day supplies the spirit.
Bob Hovey
Columbus, GA