Archive for May, 2009

Hail the Goddess: Citroen DS Transcends the Boundaries

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

I think that cars today are almost the exact equivalent of the great Gothic cathedrals: I mean the supreme creation of an era, conceived with passion by unknown artists, and consumed in image if not in usage by a whole population which appro­priates them as a purely magical object.”

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It is obvious that the new Citroen has fallen from the sky inasmuch as it appears at first sight as a super­lative object. We must not forget that an object is the best messenger of a world above that of nature: one can easily see in an object at once a perfection and an absence of origin, a closure and a brilliance, a trans­form­ation of life into matter (matter is much more magical than life), and in a word a silence which belongs to the realm of fairy-​​tales.”

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The D.S. — the “Goddess” — has all the features (or at least the public is unanimous in attrib­uting them to it at first sight) of one of those objects from another universe which have supplied fuel for the neomania of the eight­eenth century and that of our own science-​​fiction: the Deesse is first and foremost a new Nautilus.”

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It is well known that smoothness is always an attribute of perfection because its opposite reveals a technical and typically human operation of assem­bling: Christ’s robe was seamless, just as the airships of science-​​fiction are made of unbroken metal. The D.S 19 has no preten­sions about being as smooth as cake-​​icing, although its its general shape is very rounded; yet it is the dove-​​tailing of its sections which interest the public most: one keenly fingers the edges of the windows, one feels along the wide rubber grooves which link the back window to its metal surround.”

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There are in the D.S. the begin­nings of a new phenomen­ology of assem­bling, as if one progressed from a world where elements are welded to a world where they are juxta­posed and hold together by sole virtue of their wondrous shape, which of course is meant to prepare one for the idea of a more benign Nature.”

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We are therefore dealing here with a humanized art, and it is possible that the Deesse marks a change in the mythology of cars. Until now, the ultimate in cars belonged rather to the bestiary of power; here it becomes at once more spiritual and more object-​​like, and despite some conces­sions to neomania (such as the empty steering wheel), it is now more homely, more attuned to this sublim­ation of the utensil which one also finds in the design of contem­porary household equipment.”

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“The dashboard looks more like the working surface of a modern kitchen than the control room of a factory; the slim panes of matt fluted metal, the small levers topped by a white ball, the very simple dials, the very discreetness of the nickel-​​work, all this signifies a kind of control exercised over motion rather than performance. One is obviously turning from an alchemy of speed to a relish in driving.”

The public, it seems, has admirably divined the novelty of the themes which are suggested to it. Responding at first to the neologism (a whole publicity campaign had kept it on the alert for years), it tries very quickly to fall back on a behaviour which indicates adjustment and a readiness to use (“You’ve got to get used to it ”). In the exhib­ition halls, the car on show is explored with an intense, amorous studi­ousness: it is the great tactile phase of discovery, the moment when visual wonder is about to receive the reasoned assault of touch (for touch is the most demys­ti­fying of all senses, unlike sight, which is the most magical).”

The bodywork, the lines of union are touched, the uphol­stery palpated, the seats tried, the doors caressed, the cushions fondled; before the wheel, one pretends to drive with one’s whole body. The object here is totally prosti­tuted, appro­priated: origin­ating from the heaven of Metropolis , the Goddess is in a quarter of an hour mediatized, actual­izing through this exorcism the very essence of petit-​​bourgeois advancement.”

©Roland Barthes
Reproduced with permission from
Mythologies
Vintage
ISBN 0 09 997220 4
1957

Art Fitzpatrick: Original Mad Man

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

Art Fitzpatrick created in his work for the advert­ising campaigns of American car companies some of the key images of the chrome-​​clad dream of the American automobile. influx caught up with an irrepressible artist who helped define the way that the post war motorcar was created and consumed – now entering his tenth creative decade while the American auto industry shudders from the closure of one of the brands he helped create: Pontiac.

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influx Magazine: Your work seems to encap­sulate American dreams of affluence and success as repres­ented by the motorcar. How conscious were you when you were creating the work that you were selling the American Dream?

Art Fitzpatrick: I can’t remember when the “American Dream” became a capit­alized term, but I don’t recall it ever being used in any business meeting that I attended. However, what we were doing was just that, selling it. I was always conscious of it. I’m a born firm believer that image is the primary factor in the purchase of an automobile, and every piece of evidence; research, anecdotal, or historical, reinforces my conviction. You’ll never see smoking tires in my ads! An occasional car in motion, but no smoking tires.

IM: What was the commis­sioning process?
AF: Up until my 1953 contract with Buick, I used an agent … the commis­sioning process was my getting orders for car paintings through my agent. For the next 20 years the commis­sioning for each piece of art work consisted of my being told individually, or by a list, of single or double page ads, and what model car (Bonneville (sedan, convertible, wagon) Grand Prix, Tempest, etc.). Colour and view of car, scene, activity, night or day, etc. was left up to me. Once in a while some ambitious copywriter would offer a truly helpful suggestion, like spelunking (cave explor­ation!!!), which I would either ignore, or if really flabber­gasted, caustically comment on.

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IM: How tight a brief did you receive from the manufac­turers?
AF: None, other than to be technically correct, although I under­stood that, knowing my work would be reviewed after completion for technical accuracy, like having the proper number of headlights, or “streamline the keyhole cover”. I forgot, the brief from S.E. “Bunkie” Knudsen at Pontiac was basically to transform their image from that of a “3rd grade school teacher’s car” to one that was “socially acceptable”. It went from 7th place in sales to 3rd place in less than 2 years.

IM: Did you exaggerate the dimen­sions of the cars you were drawing?
AF: I prefer to use the term “enhanced”. I once wrote a piece for GM (when “Truth in Advertising” became a concern of the U.S. Senate) on this subject. I photo­graphed a car … same position/​view with 3 different lenses, 35, 50, and 120mm. Photographers, for reasons that continue to escape me, were using long lenses, which shorten a car, making the rear wheel look bigger then the front ones. I always used a 35mm lens (wide angle). I made a pencil line drawing of an exact tracing of 35mm photo, and on another sheet over that did my “enhancing”. Every one it was tested on thought my “exaggerated” drawing looked more like the car than the exact tracing, and way more so than the 120mm lens photo.

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IM: Did you visit respective locations you used with the cars and create the work from life?
AF: It’s pretty hard to get a car parked in front of a café in Venice! That’s true of most of our pictures. We shot all the locations then I shot the all of car photos on a turntable from a “cherry picker” bucket at the GM Tech Centre, or in my own driveway. I had company cars, most of the time 3 of them. I only bought (at dealers’ price) 4 cars in my 20 years with GM.

IM: Were you properly compensated for your work?
AF: At the time, we couldn’t believe they were paying us all this money to have so much fun. In retro­spect, to paraphrase Automobile Quarterly, ” If, indeed, a picture is worth a thousand words, those illus­tra­tions were worth millions to the coffers of General Motors”, now I’d now say we were underpaid!

IM: How would you charac­terise the changes in the work between the late forties and the seventies?
AF: I’m not sure whether you are asking about my work, or car advert­ising in general. Mine improved as demand for my services increased my control of the choices of colour, including the cars, the car views, and the subject matter, from no background to complex illus­tra­tions. Doing as many as 5 different car ad campaigns at the same time pushed my creativity to make subtle differ­ences in style and technique in how I painted cars.

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IM: Do you think there will ever be room again for glamour in the selling of the motorcar?
AF: The title to one of my talks is “What Happened to the Pizzazz?” I deal with the starkly visible difference between what we were doing in 1973 and generally in auto advert­ising since then. I’m no longer privy to today’s readership research results, but I’d sure like to know what it’s saying, because it has all looked so much alike since then. One of the main reasons for that is the computer, both in the design of the cars, and illus­trating them for ads. The photo­graphers put the artists out of business, and the computer put them out of business. The cars all look very much alike on the road, and the ads all look the same on the web, on TV, or in a magazine or newspaper. The ad look is the result of being able to take a car designed on a computer, rotate it to any view desired, and cover it with a grey (read “silver”) skin. So, no photo, no painting, no figures (people), no background (other than some vague, computer generated shape or swoosh). So, no glamour, no class, no emotion of any kind. Recent research says 47% of car shoppers say #1 reason for selection is image, prestige … still by far the largest group, and as for brand loyalty, about that same percentage will leave a dealership and switch to another make if they can’t find the colour they want!

About 15 years ago when Toyota was contem­plating a luxury car line they did a tremendous amount of research before picking up a pencil to create a car. They used Mercedes as their benchmark, dissecting both the car and its customers. #1 reason by far for buying … image, prestige … #4 was performance.

Their history book for what became Lexus doesn’t bother stating what #2 & #3 reasons were. The fact that they didn’t bother to mention them is as inter­esting as their identity and rank. So unless we are all reduced (for whatever reasons) to driving Smart cars, yes, there has to be room for glamour.

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The Beauty of Detail

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

Some of the most metic­ulous and highly skilled creatives working in the car industry are seldom name checked.

They are the technical illus­trators, the draughtsmen who detail the minute specifics of a vehicle’s structure through every phase of its design, devel­opment and production.

Beau Daniels is typically brilliant at evoking the literal nuts and bolts of what makes cars move, and in the brilliant FJ Cruiser print campaign for Toyota, the tough brief of making mechanical detail sexy was pulled off with the sort of panache, that in our opinion qualifies Beau’s work as High Art.

When great design collides with passion for detail and true aesthetic sensib­il­ities, great things happen. We think you will agree.

Influx Magazine: What was the commis­sioning process for the FJ cruiser series?

Beau Daniels: The ad agency was looking for somebody to do an old school series of illus­tra­tions. The art buyer had worked with us before, but the art director was concerned because we do all our work digitally. He was a great art director to work with, but we had to do a fair amount of prelim­inary work to prove that we could make it look hand drawn. The strange thing is the way we work with digital media is exactly as we would have done on the drawing board, there is still this strange miscon­ception that the computer does some of it for you. Once we had got over this problem it was a great project to work on. The art director, art buyer, accounts execs. let us do what we do. We would be given a brief to each ad, a shopping list of illus­tra­tions, ie. The main image and the supporting spots. They would then shoot reference photos for us and let us loose. Changes to the illus­tra­tions were very minor for a campaign of this size. I think for once all the elements came together right, great copy, great art direction, great photo­graphy and a very happy illus­trator. It was one of those jobs that you just wish went on and on, not only because of the money, but there was a certain something there that does not come along that often. But stopping it before it became tired was good timing too.

IM: What inspired you to become a technical illustrator?

BD: We had a lot of work in the field of science fiction through agencies in London, but we started to get itchy feet. We left England and came to the US to work on movies. Blade Runner was the first, we did a lot of matting for it, but we needed to find less egotistical forms of expression for our talent and were extremely fortunate to meet people who would help us redirect out careers. Between the two of us we can bring engin­eering archi­tec­tural and medical knowledge to an assignment, we both have a passion and ability when it comes to a technical challenges. The advantage we have is that we do not approach the assign­ments from a purely technical view point, we try to make something aesthetic and artistic that is also technical.

IM: What fine art (if any) influ­ences your work?

BD:All forms of art influence us, it is difficult to isolate that which you think is important because it is often the subtle sly influ­ences that are the most important. It usually takes someone distanced from the work to see what those influ­ences are.

Steven Laurie & the Art of the Motor

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

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My work consists of designing and fabric­ating functional homebrew prototype machines, handheld power tools and site-​​specific install­ation projects. Crossing the tradi­tional discip­lines of performance art, kinetic sculpture and mark-​​making, I develop tradeshow style displays and tool demon­stra­tions that pare down subversive activ­ities like burning rubber, engine revving and subwoofer thumping to a form of sub-​​cultural utterance.

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It’s from a personal connection to a blue-​​collar lifestyle that my artwork hints towards pastime activ­ities like custom­iz­ation, modific­ation and maintenance as insightful moments of spatial production and cultural expression.

I am curious to the function of this mechanical ‘squawk’ and it’s connection to working-​​class cultural kinship. Considered by some people as “hyper-​​masculine” or “boy art”, my work provokes discourse around ideas of class based masculine identity through the material choices and reinforcement of automotive /​ techno­lo­gical horseplay.

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The reading(s) of the machine work and public projects I develop cannot avoid being affected by techno­lo­gical, political and economic change. Designing machines with the soul purpose of paring down cultural practices like burning rubber and engine revving to a quasi utility is bound to attract both negative and positive criticism.

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The images I am using in the Branding Iron project are derived from a range of sources, which include popular tattoos, automotive decals, branded accessories and iron-​​on imagery.

Riding both an iconic and nostalgic subtext, these silhouette images for the most part point toward some of the interests shared amongst blue-​​collar and working-​​class subcul­tures. Even though these images conjure up a “dated” and overshadowed approach to mechanical muscle, they still share the sense of loyalty seen in contem­porary forms of horsepower pushing and customization.

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The Ford Capri: Life Begins at Forty

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

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When in 1986 a friend of mine purchased an outrageous Capri RS 3100, it changed my life. I lived a few streets back from the A12 in Metropolitan Essex. In the wee small hours, you could hear the beast racing from traffic light to round­about and back again. Getting into that Capri was like communing with something quint­es­sen­tially of its time. In that car you were acknow­ledged to be the kings of Dagenham and environs. The Dunton Special Vehicle Engineering department was on our doorstep, and we were pilots of one its progeny.

The Capri in all its guises weaved a magic in the English imagin­ation. And 40 years on from its release, that magic continues…

Although production ended in 1986, Capri lives on within many owners’ clubs who will be celeb­rating the anniversary with events planned from Scotland to the South West. Fans are getting together at Castle Combe, Wiltshire (6 June), Grampian Transport Museum, Alford, Aberdeenshire (30 August), Ace Café in London (5 September) and Brooklands Museum, Surrey (26 September).

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Launched in January 1969 and marketed as “the car you always promised yourself”, the Ford Capri was unashamedly aimed at a style-​​conscious gener­ation. In just 18 years the European answer to the Ford Mustang sold nearly two million units and achieved iconic status with its target audience.

From the outset the Capri was about choice, with a range boasting 26 deriv­atives. A mixture of engines – 1.3-, 1.6– and 2.0-litre four-​​cylinder units and a 3-​​litre V6 – catered for all tastes, while optional custom packs allowed a degree of personal custom­ising that broke new ground in the industry. For the serious drivers there was the Cologne-​​built RS2600 and the short-​​lived Halewood-​​built 124mph RS3100.

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A global oil crisis failed to slow the Capri’s progress and in 1974 the Mk II was launched. Smoother design lines and simplified option packs ensured the Capri appealed to a wider market.

From 1978, the Mk III saw a tidying up of the Capri body and several special editions such as the Calypso and Laser. In 1981 Dunton’s newly-​​formed Special Vehicle Engineering department unveiled their first project, the 160bhp Capri 2.8 injection. The limited edition Capri 280, also known as the Brooklands Capri, signalled the end of the Capri era and the last car left the line in December 1986.

The Capri had encoded in its DNA something sorely missing from the streets of Britain: home grown engin­eering and aspir­ation to mass-​​produced greatness. Hail the ultimate British Ford.

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Electric Superbikes!

Friday, May 1st, 2009

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Whilst calcu­lating the emissions totals for our ongoing roadtrip in Scotland with a Landrover Discovery, we came across a news story about the world’s first fully emissions free superbike GP, which is scheduled for the Isle of Man this summer.

Problem is with electric powered bikes is, of course, the weight of the batteries. Size and heftiness has always made it difficult to make a nimble and aesthet­ically pleasing machine. Things might be moving on, however.

The bike pictured is the GP entry from Imperial College, London. Sponsored by Valence techno­logies (the folk who make the batteries), the bike will be ridden by Chris Palmer, three-​​time overall race winner at the Isle of Man TT. Chris also holds the lap records for the Billown Circuit and Mountain Course for the Ultra-​​Lightweight TT class.

The bike weighs in at 290kg and has a peak power output of 50hp, with the ability to accel­erate from 0-​​60mph in 4 seconds and go on to a top speed of 100mph. It has an impressive range of up to 150 miles. The electric motors have been mounted towards the rear, with the batteries occupying space previ­ously occupied by the engine and fuel tank, meaning the bike benefits from a lower centre of gravity.

The TTXGP will be integ­rated into the usual bonkers TT schedule in June, and will probably be giggled at by the hairy arsed grease­monkeys of the internally combusted pursuasion.

But surely, dragging your knee round the Island with nothing but the sound of benign whirring to disturb your flow would appeal to purists of the art of fast biking. Wouldn’t it?

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