As per my usual morning routine of taking the shame-train in to work, making an espresso with 4 sugar packets, eating saliva with a side of Tylenol for breakfast, and then finally sitting down to peruse whatever there might be over at Trackosaurus Rex, I was puzzled to find there are now two new books competing for the ever elusive title of “most credible thing on the streets.”  You know, this subculture really does care about who has paid their dues, and who has not — who is an outsider looking in, and who happened to be in from the beginning.  It makes for a nasty mess of in-fighting and back-biting, to be quite honest.

Two Parisian Boys, Fighting Hard

The first book coming out is by photographer, Beryl Fine.  The book is simply a collection of portraits of bicycle-couriers against a white back drop, ala Avedon.  Without romanticizing the situation or providing some sort of overwrought and terribly thin reason for why these portraits should or should not be acceptable as art or otherwise, let’s just face facts – the book is coming out whether we agree with it or not.  The messengers pictured should feel glorified, as anyone having their portrait taken should feel a bubble of pride swelling - though the consumers who this book is aimed at seem to be a bit puzzled, given the comments on the Tracko-blog.  Perhaps this is the reason for the hate: it is a self-gratifying and semi-masturbatory product that only the 23 people involved seem to care about.  I mean, we all got school photographs taken but no one would want a book filled with them except our own mothers.  Most of all, though, the main charge is that showing couriers standing still while holding up, or leaning against their bikes does not “capture the scene” and does not glorify their deeds and hardwork enough!  Of course, the standing portrait before a white backdrop may not be the most creative way to photograph a person who pushes parcels all day long to no thanks for the recipients, but it is still a widely accepted and classic “portrait” technique - so for that fact alone the criticism is moot (not to make the easy comparison again, but when Avedon did this exact same thing he was indeed able to capture the “inner essence” of the sitter – not to say that Beryl is or is not as good as old Avedon, that’s a point for a different post…)  So, sure – a portrait of a cyclist should lend itself to some sort of action shot, or a portrait taken in the person’s “natural environment” – but that’s a choice that rests entirely on the shoulders of the artist and it’s not a place any critic should violate.  Besides, the fact is that a good portion of the messenger’s day does in fact involve sitting around, rolling and smoking joints, and hollering at pretty girls — sit at The Wall or One Post for an hour and tell me otherwise.  People stand around, it’s totally human activity, it is not a big deal to pose them in such a way despite the fact that a majority of their time might/might not be spent riding their bikes.  Luckily, we have a second book coming out to fill that gap (though, it should be noted here that both of these books seem to be filling gaps that might not even really need to be filled…)

Image From Beryl Fine's Book ' San Francisco Bike Messengers'

Matt Lingo has a book forthcoming as well, and it is the exact opposite of Beryl’s book – and he’s quick to point that out himself.  What Matt has done, per his promotional copy, is: ” …spent seven months working with over 50 riders in San Diego, and hauling generators/cameras/studio lights out on location to photograph them in traffic.”  On Location. Yes, he is treating his traffic as though it is a movie set with him sitting in the directors chair.  Car in the way of an otherwise nice shot?  Re-shoot!  Sun behind a tree?  Light it up!  Too much traffic?  Block off the street!  At what point do we call this a “set” and not an actual slice of real life?  You can see my point – there is not much that is honest about this take on “riding in traffic” and it could be called “performing for a camera”.  The whole balance of his book is based on the fact that he is shooting photographs of riders in their natural habitat (outside, on a street with cars), yet he is adding generators, lighting and cameras into that habitat where they don’t already exist.  If Beryl is allowed to pull messengers from their gritty streets and drape them in front of a white backdrop, then I suppose Matt should be granted the freedom to set up a street as though it is a controlled studio and re-create traffic for the camera.  It is a bit frustrating, though, that his stance is so one-sided and that he is so vocal about that.  Historically speaking, bikes used to exist in a world without any traffic at all, save for the occasional horse pulled buggy.  A bike surely has meaning inside traffic, but it also has meaning outside of it.  

Mainly, though, I find it hard to believe that there is a right and a wrong way to photograph a person who rides a bike – though this seems to be a point which he hangs his entire portfolio on.

Image from Matt Lingo's Book 'The City Can't Swallow Me'

The main intention here is not to critique or trash either book, though; the main point is that in the comments section for the post about Beryl’s book, there is a sort of disparaging remark from Matt Lingo himself.  Had one cycling-photo-book maker not publically called out another fellow cycling-photo-book maker then we wouldn’t be here to ponder these things, but he did and thus opened himself up to the world:

Comment regarding Beryl Fine's book

that sounds like one hell of an experience pig pen. having to deal with those kinds of weather conditions for eight hours straight all while dodging
the kind of traffic you’re talking about, that would make for some good pictures that would really show us what it’s like. but seeing twenty three
messengers standing over their bikes or nonchalantly posing in the studio really doesn’t even give us any idea of what you’re talking about.

the only thing this project “captures of the scene” is how you dress, what you look like, and what your bikes look like which is something that’s been done numerous times before. so while i’m sure your job is very difficult, i’m sure i don’t see traffic/hail that feels like needles/dedication that you’re talking about in any of these pictures.

By his own argument, his very book is just as unnecessary and contrived as the one he criticizes!  He rightly points out that all Beryl’s book provides is an intimate look into how a certain slim subculture dresses themselves – while insinuating that a book showing riders in traffic would be much more appropriate (which sounds an awful lot like the book he is working on!)  For Matt, placing messengers in a studio and snapping their photograph is somehow a disgrace, yet re-enacting a traffic scene for a still camera, complete with studio lighting and generators, is acceptable by all means.  He’s allowed himself the use of controlling studio factors such as lighting, power generators, and posing of his models - but so long as there is no white backdrop, he’s capturing something much more real and can sleep better at night knowing he is contributing an honest portrait to the world.  A portrait that apparently we’ve been lacking so badly that there are now two books tackling the topic!

I do not mean to be so hard on Matt here – I applaud anyone that goes out and makes something by themselves with little or no help from anyone else, and a photo-book is a tough endeavor these days.  What upsets me is his comment to another person who is out there, doing much the same thing as him.  His stance that he is more “in the scene” amounts to nothing more than the stinkiest and most effete snobbery, and the back-biting will not get a person very far.  It’s a tiny, tiny world we live in and criticizing a fellow bicycle-book-photographer is just in poor taste.  Mud slinging is for politics!

There is a very small chance that I am entirely mistaken, though.  Looking back at the Tracko-blog, Beryl’s book was announced/posted on the second of June, Matt Lingo’s comment appeared on Bery’s post on the third of June, and lastly on the fourth of June the announcement/post for his book pops up fresh on the home page.  I imagine this could be a divine sort of marketing ploy meant to drum up some enthusiasm in both books.  I picture Beryl and Matt sitting at a table in the dark corner of some shitty restaurant planning out the course of their separate books rise to stardom – each one feeding off the hatred from the other.  Just think of the tabloids and gossip out in the celebrity world: Britney’s breakdown, Jon and Kate’s divorce, Sham Wow guy’s untimely arrest — all of these “troubles” seem to happen just as the celebrity is about to release some stupid thing into the world, Britney had her new album to promote, Jon and Kate have a new season of sadness on TLC, and the Sham Wow dude is just mentioned for good fun.  It is not a stretch to assume that Beryl and Matt are in cahoots, and are simply feigning the fight to drum up some promotions for each of their projects!  I sure hope so.  I hate to think that reality really is the way that it sadly is.

Consider this po-mo, meta-criticism.  I cannot believe I am commenting on this blog about the comments from another blog.  This world we live in, it is a strange and fantastic one. And as for purchasing the books, and our own stance on the subject at hand – we firmly believe the only true path is that of fairness and kindness; and CycleZine will buy them both and see what’s really up.

Note: these two little pieces were first published on my blog, Sept. 15 & Oct. 23 2008. Edited for CycleZine, today.

Part One: Adding lipstick to a corpse

Read the rest of this entry…

Vic McDaniel & Ray Francisco, 1909

What follows is a book report about Two Wheels North, the tale of a month long, 1000-mile bicycling trip in 1909 completed by two friends who just got out of highschool.

A brief and somewhat unrelated history:  On January 23rd I fell off of my bicycle while riding in the rain, the wheels washed out from under me and I landed straight on my right side.  The entire thing was in slow motion, as I had just hopped back on my bike and given it a good kick of the pedal – the wet bricks had an entirely different plan for me that morning: instead of getting to work and enjoying the donut I just purchased, I ended up completely breaking my right hip.  I didn’t know it was broken of course, and attempted to stand up and walk a block, then stupidly tried to get onto the bus – which did not work.  Call to work to alert them to my accident, and a quick call to my girlfriend to let her know I was hurt (but that my teeth and head were in perfect shape still).  Ambulance came, then immediate surgery, then the promise of a very long and slow recovery.

Many of my friends have had much worse injuries, and many of them showed up the very next day to visit me in the hospital.  It was a huge outporing of support, and much needed since it was my first bad break and first trip to a hospital.  Several days later, when I was released to head home I found a package awaiting me.

Tim is a wonderful friend, a capable mechanic with a vast array of bicycle knowledge and one of the best people that I have had the pleasure of befriending.  He is a young guy and has a very infectious smile, and seems to be the most cheery and optimistic person I know.  We share a common love of esoteric Italian bicycles dating back to the 70s, as well as a particularily devoted interest to all things Paramount.  Tim had actually just finished recovering from quite an accident himself (his unfortunately involved a car as well as a whole lot of irrepairable damage to a supremely special Schwinn Paramount that was ridden in the 1972 Munich Olympics) and, having just been through all the pain and trouble I was just beginning, he thought to send me a nice book to read.

Before I really get into the particulars about the book, allow me to tap into some of the fun and strange thoughts I had about the book while I was recovering under the help of many different pain killers…

I opened the paper envelope and the first thing that I noticed was that the book was nicely used.  Corners crunched, pages well read, cover bent, and a nice sticker on the front saying that the book came from the Multanomah County Library (Portland!)  This little sticker instantly rewound time for me, and I remembered about 5 years back when I was up in Portland to visit a friend and I thought it would be pretty neat to sign up for a Library card despite the fact that I was only a visitor to town.  A fake bit of permanence, something about just possessing the card seemed to give me hope of returning.  I’d like to think that this book somehow knew it would eventually end up in my hands, I even like to imagine that I took it off the shelf 5 years ago but decided not to borrow it because I could never return it.  Now, back to today, the thing arrives miraculously out of thin air.  Also included in the package was a pack of Brooklyn Gum - as I said before, Tim is quite the nice friend!

On to the book itself:

Vic and Ray have just graduated highschool and live in Fresno, California.  The year is 1909 and the boys have just finished loading the waterproof waxed-canvas frame bags that their mothers had sewn for them, they have pumped their tires, and after waving to a few spectators they soon push off.  The goal: to reach Seattle, via bicycle, and attend the Alaska-Yukon-Expedition which was some sort of World’s Faire type thing that took place back then.  Setting detail: The 1906 Earthquake had just forced the boomtown of San Francisco to crumble, then burn.  The local newspaper provided them with a job of sending back reports of their ride by way of post card (see below), the boys were some of the very first “roving reporters” and certainly provided the small world of their time with quite an adventure – bicycles at this point in history were only just becoming popular, and bare in mind that the lack of automobiles meant that there were not even paved roads for these two boys to ride on!  For the most part, they had to manage with deep rutted mud, dry dust and gravel, and the worst was the “road corduroy” which were simply the trunks of fallen trees laid down endlessly on the ground very similar to an early and crude boardwalk.  Not ideal surfaces for bikes!

The odometer ticks each mile the boys travel, and their journey is captured by way of Vic’s daughter.  She writes the book from the point of view of the boy and based it on interviews with her father before his death, as well as from the collection of post cards and news paper clippings that were miraculously available and never destroyed.  More than 1,000 miles over the course of just 54 days (more than twice the duration of the Tour de France!) the boys head north from Northern California clear through the Pacific Northwest.

Front of Post Card, sent from Napa, CA

(click for larger view!)

Verso

(click for larger view!)

I imagine this book, the actual book that I was gifted, making this journey in reverse as I recover. As the two boys travel from their happy home along a new path and towards a distant goal, I feel like I am performing a similar task as I leave my injury behind me. Another day, another quick chapter read – and there feels like an internal odometer of sorts that is ticking forward as my progress moves along. Can’t quite pedal yet, but it’s close!  I imagine the book way up near Portland, out in the forrest and mountains, somehow making it’s way down south to Tim’s bookshelf to live for a little bit while he recovers, then making its way a little further on to my own bedside table while I read and mend my body.  It is nice to know it has been an inspiration not only for his recovery but my own – the actual object itself must carry some of that power inside it, some restorative yet invisible vibration.  We all attach this same sort of importance to our bicycles, it is not such a stretch to assume a book could hold within its pages some sort of special and somewhat magical attributes. 

Reading about the early days of cycling is quite interesting.  When a tube on one of their frames detaches, they simply find the blacksmith in town to re-braze it.  Any plumber, any welder, any mechanic could have fixed (and built) bicycles back then.  Another interesting bit of reading was the interesting way in which they stopped their bicycles when they were on particularily tricky descents… they would chop down a small tree, Fir or Pine or something, and then drag it behind them!  I have seen some pretty funny and unconventional skidding techniques out there, but the boys of the early 1900′s had a style and grace that none of us can even begin to come close to in these more modern times that we live in.  It is quite funny to think of the trouble we go to these days to remove our brakes, juxtaposed with the image of these boys cutting down a stout sapling just so they can safely descend a deep slope. We work hard at risk, they worked hard at safety – what a world we live in! Ray and Vic battle all sorts of other obstacles aside from their environment – getting stuck in the middle of a train bridge while the train comes barreling towards them, crossing rivers, getting robbed, working on farms in trade for pie and sandwiches, and many more stories of their old-timey adventures.

If you find yourself injured, or if you find yourself in need of a great story, go pick up Two Wheels North.

Also, be sure to visit the Wheels North website! They do a recreation of the famed journey, but do it in 14 days. Funny, as wonderful as our modern world is, with our easy infrastructure that allows us to get from point A to point B much, much faster than old Vic and Ray did — I wonder if we haven’t perhaps lost a bit of that magic that the boys were witness to along their journey. What took them two solid months of exertion now takes us only 14 breezy days, and we have much more comfortable bikes and little threat of danger. Fun still, yes; but a different sort, no?

An artistic still life on my living room floor, made by the folks of CycleZine! The chair-base, stem, and bars have each been given to me by my friends, and fellow blog-writers here. A collection I’m quite proud to share: 

Sean, William, Puck, Brian

The stem comes from William.  Early last spring we all converged on Dolores Park for an impromptu bike swap.  I was unemployed and hopeful, and William made a wonderful gesture by presenting me with the gift of a steel Cinelli Pista stem.  The nice one, the one I’d wanted for — oh, around nine years or so!  The one last touch on my bike that I’d never been able to indulge myself enough to purchase.  It was a nice sunny day, and I was blown away to be handed such a present.

Sean, William, Puck, Brian

The chair base is a newer acquisition and comes from the collection of our own Sean.  He’s a furniture fanatic with sharp taste and a keen eye and happened to have just upgraded bases for his Herman Miller/Eames fiberglass chairs, and had a spare old Eiffel Base that I was obliged to purchase.  Soon, actually, it will be mated with a fiberglass shell from none other than Kyle of Trackosaurus Rex… yes, quite a piece.

Sean, William, Puck, Brian

There you have it – a collaboration art installation in my living room.  Enjoy a little bit of needless beauty – half finished chairs, bicycle-less handlebars… It’s a nice weekend.

Also among the things Puck delivered today was my Maruishi!  This was my first track bike, purchased from a friend way back in 2001.  I have always held onto it as it holds many wonderful memories, and I’ve recently built it up with a Sturmey Archer 3 speed hub, laced to a pair of old Super Champion low profile rims.  It will have a nice pair of old townie bars from a French Girls bike, circa 1965 (thanks again, Sean!), and will be a fitting recovery bike for a 26 year old with a busted and screwed together hip.  I cannot wait!  
(photos of the Maruishi are by Puck)

Maruishi track bike, relaxed and relaxing

It's a lovingly collected blend of Italian and Japanese parts

We all ride bikes.  We all love art.  We all drink coffee.  How can we combine these three seemingly separate worlds? 

Very easy!  Just show up to Jeff Hantman’s art show on May 14th, 2009.

Jeff is a main factor behind the wonderful operation here in San Francisco known as De La Paz Coffee, a small roaster who happens to share space with several of our bike friends (Chuey, Pass/Stow Racks, etc).  What makes De La Paz even more amazing though, aside from their small batches and absolutely amazing beans, is the fact that we get our delivery via bicycle.  Yep, that’s right – once a week or so, Jeff shows up to my office as well as countless others, and delivers 10 pounds of some seriously amazing beans.  This past drop, Jeff had something much lighter to hand over – a nice postcard with one of his paintings on the front of it. 

Aside from running the coffee business, and living a painterly artist’s lifestyle, Jeff also competes in many bike races both in the dirt and out.  A true renaissance man for our times! 

The show will be up from May 14 – August 14, so you have ample time to go look.  Head to the Gensler Gallery, located at 2 Harrison Street, Suite 400.  There will of course be an opening reception on the night of May 14th from 5:30 until approximately 7:30. 

Here’s what the bags of goodness look like – notice the wonderful and plain brown bag and silk screened image.

De La Paz Coffee

And here is just one of the nice delivery bicycles that transports our coffee beans to us.  It is so nice to know that we are not contributing to the harm of our mother Earth by allowing our coffee to be delivered via a gas-guzzling van or truck, not to mention the fact that we are supporting a nice small business that lives right down the street. 

De La Paz Coffee Delivery Bike

I was lucky enough to grow up in a sunny, sleepy suburb just south of San Francisco. Like any kid growing up in the wee 1990s, I was raised on chrome BMX bicycles made by GT, Robinson, Elf, PK Ripper, and the rest. I had my first subscription to BMX Plus! Magazine in 3rd grade and was tearing up the local BMX track which was just a short ride from my house.

Calabazas has changed a lot over the years, some say for the better while others say for the worst. After an injury a few years ago the city of San Jose ordered the park to be closed pending investigation. Eventually they decided that rather than closing a vital and much needed space for kids to ride and race their bicycles, the city decided to renovate the space instead. They chose to hire a company that builds wooden and concrete skateboarding parks, a company that had never once worked with dirt or with designing a park for bikes. Calabazas was fabled as one of the area’s best jumping parks, probably one of the best on the entire West Coast – these folks are a bit disappointed in the renovations. While some of the jumps and turns are not as functional as they could be, it is still quite amazing to know that there is a place in our area that is dedicated to this sport. Any cyclist out there owes a bit of thanks to the dirty world of BMX, it is generally a child’s first exposure to a bicycle and the jumps, dirt and racing make it very fun and exciting and eventually lead the kids onto larger bicycles and races.

This coming weekend there is a Classic BMX Show there and it is sort of funny to be considering things from my own youth “Classic”, seeing that I am not yet even 30 years old and it seems that “classics” are things much older and much wiser people reminisce about. Everyone needs to recapture their youth, even if it did just happen as recently as 10 or 15 years ago. A lot of us started out on these bikes and later moved on to road and track bikes, but it is always important to remember where we came from – it is a good indication of where we are going.

Here are some photos from a trip I took down to the South Bay to relive my own silly youth. Me and my old Chesini did a nice loop through Saratoga, through the sleepy town and into Cupertino. Memories swelled as I rounded the corner that took me to the track. Couldn’t hit much of any of the jumps on the track bike, but it was fun to try! I even skinned my knee from falling over just like old times.

The old dirt track

"Protect your bike and the park from graffiti and abuse"

curve

Jumps, turns, dirt

Reminds me of the old "Hell Track" from the movie Rad

get ex back