BIKING ART
The many different phases and the broad diversity of Biker culture make it impossible to define any single Biker art. There are however, distinct preferences. The outcome of the biking appetite for adoptive interpretations has remade the messages of many cultures in its own right, while timelessly respecting old yet incontrovertible values.
The earliest art forms beyond the bike were strongly influenced by contemporaneous trends. Drawings, paintings and then photographs filled out the cultural domain, and at commercial levels, the manufacturers used whatever styles were available for promotional purposes (Art-Deco and Art-Nouveau were popular in the 20’s and 30’s). Their images of bikes and associated products epitomised what was deemed to be either traditional or modernistic. They would be accompanied by phraseology, that encapsulated not just the viability of the product, but also the mood of their times. Catchy product names like Speedler, (a free-spinning fan fitted to the carburetor to improve running) describe a specialised world apart. Limerick styled verses and puns assimilated the order of the day. In retrospect, they strike us as humorous, because technology, like fashion, has its trends.
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Whilst we have regarded photography and painting elsewhere, something of their mood might further be understood through other aspects of the biking art world. Early posters were printed drawings, rather than photographic. They spoke of the valour and excitement of competition, or the excellence of machines. They are the more collectable items, over the manuals and datum wall-charts of their times. This salability of posters rapidly increased their popularity in the 1960s, following on from the pin-up theme. Written by George McClelland, a book on the art of Rick Griffin shows the posters he designed for publicising gigs; Hendrix, the Grateful Dead and Captain Beefheart among them. His style was used in and was influential on many US comic productions. It is a blend of drug-oriented Hippy, surf and rock art that found its way into biking.
Furthering that theme, another book by Guy Peellaert and Nik Cohn, called Rock Dreams, caught up the soul of different youth and music factions. Amid portraits of Jan and Dean, Diana Ross and others, the biking theme crops up regularly. Elvis and Gene Vincent appear amid leather-jacketed Teds, and Roy Orbison is pictured on a bike (with a poignant caption about his wife’s death on one). The Rolling Stones aptly appear in German SS uniforms, turning the shock device of military regalia into perverse humour - the Stones are sipping tea in the company of little girls.
The biking theme in the book is drawn together in a rebel depiction. It comically portrays Ruben and the Jets, Frank Zappa and Wild Man Fischer as Hell’s Angels. Along with Griffin’s work, Rock Dreams demonstrates that despite the diversity, all youths seemed to have similar goals. The atmosphere and imagery of both books capture the world as seen by alternative society through posters.
Other poster artists include Roger Dean and Rodney Mathews, who produced hallucinogen and sci-fi inspired images. Dragonesque creatures, some with elements of spacecraft in their physiognomy, fly through outer-space, and wolves are silhouetted in Bosch-like landscapes. Some posters included text, based on home truths or ‘in’ sayings: Today is the first day in the rest of your life/Tomorrow is canceled due to lack of interest.
After posters, the Tee-shirt was a mixture of public and private notions of art and belief. Whatever was portrayed; a band, a bike, a Tolkeinesque landscape, they all spoke of an individualism that was part of something greater, which the wearer wanted the world to see and recognise. Many Bikers speak of a sensation that includes valour and heroism, the mood we can see in portraits of Amerindians or other warriors on horse-back. These images have been integrated into bike-art, and reflect the relationship with the machine. When text was added to them, it reinforced various aspects of subculture. Irony, vehemence and subtlety were used along with blatancy. Off The Pig for example, was nothing to do with animal product. It was anti-police. The shame about such art is that commercialism reduced it to overt cuteness and shallow trendy themes - like the chimp’s tea-party.
Much of the individually selected Biker paraphernalia is now mass-produced. The availability of such items is spread throughout biking publications, the highlights of such are catalogues. One regular production by the Whitehorse Press (US) carries the spectrum of mass-produced culture items. They range from a chocolate motorcycle, through ribber caps (like a pirate’s tie-on head scarf), to a tie with bikes on. It also carries the gamut of fine and not so fine bike media, from travel guides to battling gangs.
By the 1990s, there were businesses that specialised in air-brushing individual designs onto leathers, helmets and Tee-shirts that brighten the biking world. These are expensive, and photographic techniques reproduce similar items for the mass market. Some argue that identical reproductions remove the art from the object. But we cannot all afford to commission an artist. Neither do we have time to go out and photograph, then print our chosen image. If a theme is popular, it will be copied; as witnessed by ancient cave paintings, past musical tastes and tribal cultures. It is an individual’s choice - including what they don’t select, that makes a difference.
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Sculpture first manifested in the styling of motorcycle tinware and frames. The functional necessities gave their designs a distinct if not deliberate flavour. When the first machines were assembled, it was noticed that they had their own architecture, which allowed various styles to be integrated into bike appearance. Sculpture also replicated images of bikes and riders; some famous, some private individuals who wished to commemorate their riding.
Sculpture is more readily associated with the shaping of wood, clay or other raw materials. Yet the creation of models fits in with the idea of three-dimensional replication, if not interpretation. Small scale motorcycles have been built to various requirements, usually those of the maker. Some take the shape of an imaginative item, others replicate a particular bike or whatever. Scrap yards and country areas supply many artisans who create biking artifacts with raw materials. Model bikes are made of disgarded items that either represent or are actual defunct working parts. Pram wheels, torches, cogs and sprockets are interlaced with other items that have their own in-built character.
There are also working models created in precise detail. Their functionality and appearance have been compromised in exactly the same way as the article they’re based on. This sometimes produces an exact double that will run, though they’re usually too small to be ridden. An example was built by Les Worthington. His Goldie model is to 1/3rd scale. He has put in over 2,500 hours, including building and thinking time. Details include adjustable shocks, hand-brake and clutch cables, spokes and chain. The model also features small castings for the engine cases and tooling for cranks, gears and pistons. It is widely praised wherever it is exhibited, even by those whose affections lie outside of biking.
Some large toys have been made, which can be either replicas or imaginative pieces. The rideable ones are usually either pedal or electric powered, however, combustion-engined variants are often made by parents for their children. Commercial variants include the Honda Monkey bike.
Fair-grounds often include motorcycle facsimiles on roundabout rides, and smaller toy motorcycles have appeared down the years. Clockwork bikes in painted tinware were probably among the first, alongside home-made wooden ones. The later mass-production firms (like Corgi and Dinky in the UK) produced toys that more faithfully represented certain models. Combinations used by the AA and R.A.C. were common, while the Scalextric firm produced a slot-racing combo version of their car circuits. The bicycle accessory market made occasional nods toward motorcycle style, the most notable UK version being the Raleigh Chopper of the 70s.
Staying with the sculpted theme, the texture of metal has a reptilian appearance that readily submits to the jewelry favoured among many riders. Dragons with crystal eyes swoop across lunar landscapes and ride bikes. Silver, lapis lazuli and turquoise are the well-matched Indian and Egyptian components that feature strongly in Biker tastes. The acquisition of jewelry from other cultures, like Celtic broaches from artisans outside of biking demonstrates an appreciation as broad as it is deep. These purpose made items vie with the use of defunct or replicated bike components that are used as jewelry or household ornament.
Many cheap items flooded the market from the 60s onwards; skull rings and other macabre paraphernalia reducing bike art to a free-with-cereals tackiness. Firms like Alchemy have retrieved some credibility with middle-priced articles, while magazine-associated badges and race souvenirs have achieved collectable status.
Beginning in the 1980s, a global fad for reproduction antique statuary caught up with the vehicular world. Past film stars are depicted on model motorcycle combinations, anonymous riders in goggles sit astride Harleys, and advertising paraphernalia like enamel signs, clocks and wooden plaques became popular, even among non-Bikers.
The by-products of TV series and films have produced a rash of collectibles. In the 90s, the UK’s Wallace and Grommet stories popularised a model combo, often as a toothbrush holder. Model Evel Knievel stunt bikes impressed many 70s kids - and adults. This child-like nuance ties in with all the humour and attitudes of the biking world. Collections of cigarette cards, biking-hero portraits and even replicas of the gear they wear have long been commercially available.
Aside from the bike itself, art, memorabilia and other items are but trinkets. The pseudo intellectual aspects of art have little or no foothold among Bikers. The pretense of representation is recognised as such, not absorbed as truth.
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Clothing is something used by the majority of cultures, and among Bikers has gathered particular importance to those into image more than just safety. The intervening wars left their mark with the ex-military clothing, as the militarised essence to Biker appearance began to grow. This was an admix of naval, army and air force styles. It is probably the easily-made association of bikes with planes that made the aviator look notable, rather than just integral with biking appearances.
Whilst it was common practice to go bare headed among some of the early riders, the leather helmet and goggles still had a cachét that was irresistible, as had the leather jacket. The flying jacket permeated into rock and roll fashion from the biking world, and though often replaced with the sleeker black leather jacket, they both retreated back into biking with studs and insignia attached. Leather trousers and denim jeans and jackets made the same journey and changes.
Camouflage bush hats, peaked caps and trousers began to appear in the late ‘60s, and though used for practical purposes, they became elements among various fashions. By the 1990’s you could get designer patterns in orange, yellow and other shades that were more conspicuous than camouflaging. The use of combat helmets, particularly the W.W.II German ones became popular among 1960’s and 70’s biking youth, especially the rebel factions. Whilst they served a practical purpose, their inclusion in the image was predominantly as a signifier. It conveniently looked cool to the wearer, whilst at the same time (often intentionally) represented something undesirable to the rest of society. One finished in chrome has the aura of a royal crown, or battle head-dress.
In latter years, man-made fabrics, some of which emulate denim or leather, are commonplace. They are used for their water-proof or protective qualities. Goretex and other membrane type materials let the perspiration out and keep the wearer dry. Kevlar and carbon are tough materials, while plastic-based coverings like nylon are often used in off-bike garments. Sometimes known as paddock jackets, they often carry brand names and are made in specific colours relating to bike-marques, like blue and white for Suzuki, green for Kawasaki or red for Ducati.
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The use of second-hand goods in biking soon became embroiled with subcultural uses for junk. It began with practical needs, but developed into postmodern fashion statement. The older generations of the 1950’s and 60’s strove to get away from the social denigration associated with hand-me-downs. When the Hippies and Bikers began to use items from second-hand emporiums, their elders were horrified because of the stigma they attached to used gear.
A strong source of Hippy, Biker and Punk paraphernalia was charity shops in the UK. It didn’t matter how much they got for the goods - it was all profit, and for a good cause. Artifacts both kitsch and desirable were jostled into the premises in disarray. You could kit yourself out for a few pence, and furnish accommodation for not much more. The latest trend among charity shops has seen them turn into emporiums for twee and over-priced ethnic goods. This has reduced their curiosity factor and reneges on their past usefulness to poorer customers.
Animal charities are perhaps unique in retaining a happy-go-lucky style. Local animal sanctuaries often sell used goods and make interesting (if not tortuously sad) places to visit. They are often staffed by New-Age types who’ve hindered the local hunt a few times - and occasionally Bikers are among them.
The jumble or rummage sale still goes on at scout huts and church halls. Prices here have remained rock-bottom, though decent tackle is getting thinner on the ground. Consumerism bypasses them, sending obsolete goods out with the trash, and as generations roll on, there just isn’t the same residue of cast-offs. Second-hand or pawn shops have also changed. They’re full of washing machines and three-piece suites, and the rummage factor is brief.
Antique shops are a more costly option, but can be surprising in content, especially the more shambolic ones. Their owner’s interests in militaria and other related concepts make them into treasure houses for those who can afford the uppish prices. The antique dealerships are also susceptible to time and other changes. Flagging economies and unemployment have forced people to relieve their living costs by hawking things at car-boot sales, the equivalent of the US swap-meet. Thus there are fewer goods made available to the dealers.
Market towns and villages in the UK and Europe have also taken batterings from the economy, often being based on the declining livestock or agricultural businesses. Local authorities have closed or relocated the markets (and their inner-city counter-parts) to new purpose-built sites, and in so doing virtually destroyed their souls, if not their existence. But some places have retained flea markets, where stall holders tend to specialise. Although this means a small increase in price, it means you can make a bee-line for your favourites. If you ever get to Paris or Amsterdam, you’ll need a full day to get round the flea markets there.
Still to be found at these places are suede jackets and waist-coats, scarves, and stunning clothes of the kind worn in rock clubs. Secondhand rock albums and CDs are also cheap, and it’s fun just to ride there and drink the local atmosphere.
Second-hand book and record shops can add to cultural selections, with organised sections of interest. They’ll even trade unwanted stuff against a purchase. Oddly, there are some that over-charge, out of some obsession with collectability before the items have become rare. The junk market has provided individualised and fascinating stuff that has character to the discerning buyer. The service in most of these places is friendly and helpful. There are sharks, but many are old-fashioned honest shop-keepers.
Auto-jumbles can turn up parts for bikes of all ages. They too provide an excuse for a ride out, and are so popular that stall-holders turn up at bike events. Tool stalls carry everything from new socket-sets to the loose boxes that spill over with things you might need. The influx of cheap import tools and recycled manual and power tools enable more to be spent on the bike.
Rock and roll, rock and punk music have all created spin-off markets through associated goods and clothes. The stage clothes modeled on band imagery have allowed dealers to set up selling chains, studs, spandex jeans and leather bike jackets. These also stock handcuffs, S&M novelties and erotic underwear, crossing over into the porn dealerships.
Changes have occurred since the 1960s in the underground world, but one thing has remained constant. The stalls that sell dope-smoking paraphernalia. Among the Furry Freak Brothers comics and PVC ladies’ foundation garments, are the pipes, weighing-scales, extra-large cigarette papers and fluorescent posters spelling out: LEGALISE MARIJUANA. They scream incriminating evidence, but the sale of paraphernalia isn’t illegal in the UK at least.
The influx of punk tastes made its mark from the late 70s. Besides the extraordinary PVC garments and battered bike jackets, the sale of new as well as second-hand records in the punk shops helped new Indies - independent labels - to market bands who’s material had the true street-feel.
Record and CD fairs, fanzine and magazine dealers survived into the 1990’s and beyond, buoyed on their subcultural exclusivity. Such events and dealerships are broad palettes that include Judge Dredd mags, with their invincible biking characters and biking videos. Some fairs have become expensive to buy from or even enter, and are falling into a collector’s consumerist trap. However some individual dealers show up at biking events and town markets, keeping prices reasonable.
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By the turn of the millennium, Bikerdom was at a cultural cross-roads. Older Bikers were hanging on to the meaningful grist of the mid 20th century, while the slick, one-piece leather wearing, clean-cut youth outnumbered them. The basic experience is still the same, but just as Biker culture changed never to be the same again in the 1960s, it is seemingly undergoing a kind of inverse revolution. There are fewer choppers and more race-replicas in the street, yet also, there is a kind of naked renaissance. Since the 1980’s, those with body-piercings, multicoloured dreadlocks and a taste for rave music have infiltrated. On their street-fighters, they mingle with the older stereotypes and the replica riders.
The mobility of biking art through time and space may have altered its image, but it remains infused with a pure spirit. This can be seen in the logos and insignia of every club, gang or association. Many have a specific meaning or story attached, and they all aim to capture and represent a collective belief, idiom or attitude. For example, the Ariel logo was a stylised art-deco horse head; representing the modern mechanistic horse. Patch and MC type clubs often use engine parts - like the crossed pistons through a death’s head. Wings, wheels and bestiary also figure highly among brands and insignia.
Whilst some feel the macabre is a step too far, it does have a presence and feel that lends meaning to the Death or Glory idiom. The use of the death’s head wearing Indian head-dress is a particularly poignant image. Damage is often a feature, like the holed or cracked pistons and skulls, with roses growing through them. Such juxtaposition of the immaculate and the scarred can also speak of the damaged social and personal psyché within an outfit. Not a plea for sympathy, but a reveling in imperfection, it bites like a shark. However the less expertly executed insignia can invoke ridicule.
Within insignia, adversity is overcome, supremacy upheld, and even one-ness (sometimes represented by the self-consuming serpent), are all pictorially ablaze. They are images with power, a step from the logo of kudos, towards the ideological image. This is why rock bands have used biking imagery; because the outrageous and bestial aspects of motorcycle art are so akin to the power of their music. This is a further link between biking and rock, forged in ethos and spirit. In latter years there has been an inclination toward the tongue-in-cheek ideals of the past. A Disney cartoon character, the Tasmanian Mountain Devil, still says: Devil May Care; but it causes a smile, not a judder.
Biking as a performing art has been dealt with in ‘The Ride’, however it would be wrong to exclude stunt, competition, show-riding like the wall of death and formation riders. They create a living spectacle that affects those who appreciate it - and others - profoundly. Just to underlie the biking attitude to life, the Purple Helmets are a display team who mostly use Honda step-through bikes of around 50cc. Mostly verging on rat appearance, the little bikes do all the moves of other stunt teams, and include one which will seat about ten passengers. They also toured the Isle of Man circuit on a combo with a piano instead of a side car.
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Biking art conveys a complexity of notions, sensibilities and beliefs. It may be culturally diverse, but it is adjusted to suit the underlying purposes, of personal freedom and biking excellence. Poets, composers and artists immortalize themselves in their work, and Bikers have put something of themselves into their art. It is a transient form, like a fresco, being added to, covered over and subtracted from continuously. Like any other artisan, the Biker always sees room for improvement. However, they seldom let this spoil their enjoyment of the present.