Art, Life, Technology
Chris Perez
"...Dance me a dance. Sing me a song. Dear god, please..."
Like mindless drones, much of humanity marches off to work around 8:00am
five days a week. The same hord returns home around 5:00pm to the shrieking
wife, screaming kids, and snarling pets. Each person seeming to stuggle to
be unique in the face of dull sameness, and scientific advancement.
Periodically, someone lowers a 40 watt bulb into the foggy, chambered recesses
of my mind. This happened just the other day. What I saw in the distance
under the light's soft glow were the general topics of life, art, and
technology. They seemed so separate, so cold, and so aloof. Society seemed
to support this.
It has been said that art no longer represents anything meaningful to us in
the western world. This separation of art and life supposedly began in the
mid-1800s. The beginning of the Industrial Revolution. This is held as the
responsible party for the present drearyness of society and living.
I wondered "is this true for me?" The answer was unclear. I had learned
long ago that for art to be truly meaningful, it had to represent something
important or significant in my life. Even as a characature. If so presented,
art enriched the air I breathed, the things I did, and made living more
bearable.
With the dim overhead, even with my mind's fog, I could see where I
was going and all the thought forms I might have otherwise stumbled over. I
took to pacing the enclosing walls of my reasoning in search of answers.
Traditionally there have been several forms of readily recognizable
art. One is the art of shape. This can be seen in the great paintings and
sculptures of history. "Winged Victory" holds a special place in my mind's
eye. Another is the art of motion. Humans dance. And hence, Ballet is viewed
as beautiful. There is the art of sound. Melodious emissions can stir great
emotion. I cry whenever I listen to Mozart's Requiem. And there is the
art of light. Being hard to capture, the works of Monet and Ansel Adams
seem to me to be some of the best expressions of this art form. Each
and every form capable of stirring souls.
As I turned to my mind's lit room to view the various aspects of my
considerations, I began to form an idea and began to forge connections.
I started to order my facts. And as I pondered, I became excited at the
possibilities. What if art could be found outside society's hallowed walled-
off and carefully guarded galleries? What if art still existed in everyday
life? What if all that was required were the eyes to see it?
My thoughts gelled slowly. Walking into my garage, I found the shift lever
of one of my Ducatis. It had a pleasing shape, and felt good to my finger
tips. My mind considered and enjoyed it's light weight. The serrated hole
that slid onto the shaft and held it firm. The cast rubber end to leave my
boot unmarred. The luster of the unpolished aluminum finish. All this added
up to a simple pleasure. Could this be a present day counterpart to the
smaller sculptures I'd witnessed in the great national treasure houses of
the world?
I pulled on the 40 watt's wire to bring the light closer to what I was
inspecting. "Ah yes. It could be. Look here at the NCR dry clutch
housing. They must have had the hearts of artists to have created it.
Wait! Look at this cylinder head and the way it was cast. My, oh my.
And there, look at shape of that gas tank. Such beauty..."
The chambered fog began to rise a little.
I then gazed upon my two running Ducatis and turned my conversation once
again inward. "What of another art form called dance? What are the
possibilities of equating that art form with my everyday existance?"
I never took dance, and would never be caught dead in those tight little
leotards dancers insist on wearing. I wear strong leather. In Black.
Much more to the point, I feel.
"But the dance. What of it? Could it be that the motion of a bike defines
a rather brutal dance form? Why yes! Indeed it could." The ballet-like
motion of a leaning bike rushing into a corner seemed the equivalent of a
Grand Plee'(sp?). And a bike vaulting out of the corner the equivalent of
performing a Grand Jete'.
There seemed a great many analogies to dance in riding a motorcycle. To
watch the really good riders proved this empirically.
The answer to my original question was beginning to appear. But to check this
further, I needed to consider the other art forms of sound and light.
Sound, for me, was quite easy. Though again very brutal, the sound emitted
by my Ducati's Conti mufflers was music to my ears. There too were the sounds
of a single cylinder's thump, the wail of a two-stroke motor on-pipe,
and the scream of a four cylinder engine spinning somewhere up near the
stratosphere of sound.
In each case, I felt I could argue that a motor's sound could be as unto
music. Clearly not to everyone's taste, but still music. In final
consideration of a motorcycle's sound art form, I thought of Schoenberg.
Few liked his music, but there is no doubt that music it is. And just as
with some bikes, truely grand music can be heard.
The fog in my mind's vault had now lifted.
I wheeled my 500SL out into the sunlight to further gaze upon her beauty
and to finalize my thoughts.
Perhaps technology hadn't completely pushed art out of life and living.
Sitting along side a most perfect road not far from here, I could see those
gorgous Harleys, those land-based Oriental darts, those automobile-like
touring bikes, and several stripped down vintage bikes pass occassionally by.
Each and all a perfect integration of technology, art, and life. My thoughts
had come full circle. And I could now answer for myself where at least some
of life's art had gone.
I closed my eyes and considered this modern day sculpture, this music maker,
this gazelle-like dancer glinting in and out of the sun light on a tree
lined lane. It all fit together. Without light, she seemed not to exist.
But to behold her in motion on an incredible day was, for me, the final touch
to my now firm argument. The motorcycle is an ultimate real life art form.
Show me the world's great galleries where all art forms are so closely married.
You will find none that do.
I was now very satisfied. As a motorcyclist, I was carving for myself a
unique and wonderful place in this world. And I could now say with
conviction that my art hangs not in some moldy, high-priced, out of reach
and stuffy gallery. Rather my art hangs out in my garage, suspended between
the heavens and earth, defying gravity, and glistening in a warm light in
the form of motorcycles.
I suspect this might hold true for other people as well.
"What's that sound, dad?" Christopher Perez
"Ducatis running wide open in my mind..." chr...@amadeus.WR.TEK.COM
"Dad, you're weird!"
From the jumbled mind of Steve Andersen
>"...Dance me a dance. Sing me a song. Dear god, please..."
>
>
>I closed my eyes and considered this modern day sculpture, this music maker,
>this gazelle-like dancer glinting in and out of the sun light on a tree
>lined lane. It all fit together. Without light, she seemed not to exist.
>But to behold her in motion on an incredible day was, for me, the final touch
>to my now firm argument. The motorcycle is an ultimate real life art form.
Wow...
Anybody got a cigarette???????
Steve
______________________________________________________________________________
Steve Andersen DoD #0239 ande...@oscar.ccm.udel.edu
(302) 324-0888 ande...@zr1.ccm.udel.edu
1992 Ducati 907 I.E. 1987 Yamaha SRX250
"Life is simply a consequence of the complexities of carbon chemistry..."
Dave Williams
-> Like mindless drones, much of humanity marches off to work around
-> 8:00am five days a week. The same hord returns home around 5:00pm to
-> the shrieking wife, screaming kids, and snarling pets. Each person
-> seeming to stuggle to be unique in the face of dull sameness, and
-> scientific advancement.
from chaos' cookie file:
another suburban morning
Grandmother screaming at the wall
we have to shout above the din of our Rice Krispies
we can't hear anything at all
The Police/Synchronicity
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration
but we know all her suicides are fake
Daddy only stares into the distance
there's only so much more that he can take
The Police/Synchronicity
another working day has ended
only the rush hour hell to face
like lemmings in their shiny metal boxes
contestants in a suicidal race
The Police/Synchronicity
. h
Carl Paukstis
[ an intolerably verbose version of "motorcycles is art" ]
This is news? I'll bet you write COBOL, too.
>"What's that sound, dad?" Christopher Perez
>"Ducatis running wide open in my mind..." chr...@amadeus.WR.TEK.COM
>"Dad, you're weird!"
One of my top-10 favorite signature sayings of all time. _THAT_ is art.
--
Carl Paukstis, Software Generalist | War On (some) Drugs -> Police State USA
ISC-Bunker Ramo / Spokane, WA | DoD #0432 I'm the NRA #TMB6692H
Phone: +1 509 927-5439 | AMA #634630 HOG #0507772 Mensa #1086355
Mail: ca...@frigg.isc-br.com | My employer accepts no responsibility...
Jonathan E. Quist
>
>Like mindless drones, much of humanity marches off to work around 8:00am
>five days a week. The same hord returns home around 5:00pm to the shrieking
>wife, screaming kids, and snarling pets. Each person seeming to stuggle to
>be unique in the face of dull sameness, and scientific advancement.
>
>Periodically, someone lowers a 40 watt bulb into the foggy, chambered recesses
>of my mind. This happened just the other day. What I saw in the distance
Ah, yes. It's Chris in the Morning, here with you on KBER.
--
Jonathan E. Quist INTERACTIVE Systems Corporation
j...@i88.isc.com Naperville, IL
'71 CL450-K4 "Gleep" - "Worth the Oppression"
DoD #094 "I'm not mad; just terribly, terribly hurt." HDM #007
Godfrey DiGiorgi
>
> In article <99...@wrgate.wr.tek.com>, chr...@amadeus.wr.tek.com (Chris Perez) writes...
> >"...Dance me a dance. Sing me a song. Dear god, please..."
> >
> > Artful prose deleted...
> >
> >I closed my eyes and considered this modern day sculpture, this music maker,
> >this gazelle-like dancer glinting in and out of the sun light on a tree
> >lined lane. It all fit together. Without light, she seemed not to exist.
> >But to behold her in motion on an incredible day was, for me, the final touch
> >to my now firm argument. The motorcycle is an ultimate real life art form.
>
> Wow...
>
>
> Anybody got a cigarette???????
>
========
Godfrey DiGiorgi | rama...@apple.com | DoD #0493
Rule #1: Never sell a Ducati.
Rule #2: Always obey Rule #1.
Ducati 907IE 1992, really really wanted =8^0
Ducati 750GT 1975, engine now in place :)
Honda NT650 Hawk 1988, rolling downpayment? ;^)
Ducati 250 Mk III Diana 1966, waiting for its turn
========
Brian Moffet ext 7605
j...@i88.isc.com (Jonathan E. Quist) writes:
>Ah, yes. It's Chris in the Morning, here with you on KBER.
KBHR. And the character rides a Harley, No?
brian moffet
--
"I am NAN! I am a free man!" -- paraphrased
bri...@sco.com or uunet!sco!brianm Speaking for Myself
William E. Johns;S23015
>In article <99...@wrgate.wr.tek.com> chr...@amadeus.wr.tek.com (Chris Perez) writes:
>>
>>"...Dance me a dance. Sing me a song. Dear god, please..."
>>
>>Like mindless drones, much of humanity marches off to work around 8:00am
>>five days a week. The same hord returns home around 5:00pm to the shrieking
>>wife, screaming kids, and snarling pets. Each person seeming to stuggle to
>>be unique in the face of dull sameness, and scientific advancement.
>>
>>Periodically, someone lowers a 40 watt bulb into the foggy, chambered recesses
>>of my mind. This happened just the other day. What I saw in the distance
>
>Ah, yes. It's Chris in the Morning, here with you on KBER.
More likely KDUC. :-)
Ride Free,
Bill
John Sloan
> KBHR. And the character rides a Harley, No?
I think he's changed models though. I could have sworn that last season
Chris had an FX of some kind, maybe a Super glide. This year, I believe
in the wedding episode, he rode up on an FLH. When his brother was
introduced, Bernard rode into Cicely on an Tour Glide.
--
John Sloan "Since I've given up hope, +1 303 497 1243
NCAR/SCD I feel much better." Fax +1 303 497 1137
Boulder CO 80307-3000 USA jsl...@ncar.ucar.edu
Logical Disclaimer: belong(opinions,jsloan). belong(opinions,_):-!,fail.
Chris Spindler
>this gazelle-like dancer glinting in and out of the sun light on a tree
>lined lane. It all fit together. Without light, she seemed not to exist.
>But to behold her in motion on an incredible day was, for me, the final touch
>to my now firm argument. The motorcycle is an ultimate real life art form.
The ultimate in Performance Art ?
Chris Spindler
_________________________________________________________________
A.I.M. #VI0517 - - - - - - - - o Never ascribe to malice
550 Zephyr - - - - - - - - _/\_> what is easily explained
DoD #6371 - - - - - - - - O,> / O by stupidity.
_________________________________________________________________
--
Chris Spindler
_________________________________________________________________