DesmoClan Montreal

This is an art history article I wrote recently, it might be worth reading for fellow academics/motorcyclists. Please excuse the lack of footnotes in the text, I wasn’t able to transfer them from DOC format. The footnotes are compiled at the end regardless. This is one of the early drafts so it might have typos or syntax error.

This work is the sole intellectual property of Jason E. Cormier. Do not plagiarize, because I don’t have sympathy for academic cheating.

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The selection of works of ‘art’ worthy of consideration in Western institutions and art historical theory, and the values associated with this selection of what is worthy and what is not, has serious implications regarding both institutional practices and theoretical considerations around the nature of art within and beyond Western culture. The emergence and refining of anthropological approaches to art history and art theory have given new breadth to the considerations of what can be considered art, particularly in how to approach objects removed from their context and introduced into a museum setting. For most anthropological theorists this entails the examination of how works are considered across cultural boundaries, particularly the Western interest in African or Asian objects, but this framework can easily be extended into an examination of the culture of turning commodity culture into a source of mass-produced ‘artworks’ to be contemplated by a viewing public. I will consider the format and goals of the immensely popular (and highly criticized) The Art of the Motorcycle exhibit, originally held at the Solomon R. Guggenheim in New York from June-September 1998 and subsequently moved to several branches of the Guggenheim across the globe, as a case study of the shifts in perception of what constitutes art and how it may be interpreted.
Alfred Gell’s theory of the use of anthropology in art history has a lot of resonance when considering the development of a new set of institutional practices around what is exhibited and the format of exhibition. Gell makes a distinction between the aesthetic, the interpretive, and the institutional theories of art. Aesthetic is the basic, naïve theory of art being all that is aesthetically appealing, with some degree of artistic intention in the creation of an object.  Here beauty takes precedence over function or meaning, and categories of art that may be repulsive to the public would be excluded. Interpretive theory broadens the aesthetic limits by defining art through the academic rules of production and reception, whether the object is “beautiful” or not.  Institutional theory draws upon the interpretive in having the artistic institutions actively ‘creating’ artwork by defining it – taking objects, placing them in a new context, and declaring them art as they see fit.  Certainly this is the most all-encompassing definition, a catchall category where any object that is placed into the right context of exhibition becomes art, independent of the meanings or intentions of the creator. The institution is the legitimizing body, lending credence to the contemplative value of the object it presents to the public. This becomes problematic, however, in that the institution is the governing body and main factor in the consideration of these objects as art – the history and the qualities of the objects themselves are not important.  This simultaneously expands and constrains the scope of what is considered art; by having the power to define anything as art the institution can open up the field to new considerations, but it is only the institution that has the final say in what is acceptable and how to interpret the objects it selects. This self-regulation is one of the most criticized aspects of Western artistic practice.
The anthropological theory that Gell proposes is concerned with the distinction between “art” and “artifact”, or what is worthy of aesthetic contemplation in an artistic setting versus and what is simply a historical or cultural relic.  Gell points out the problem of the “everyday” common object versus the found object that is modified or chosen by an artist as the basis for a work, using the example of the Warhol Brillo box compared to any other Brillo box.  The concepts surrounding the creation of the object need to be considered, along with how the Western examination might reflect or modify (ignore) this cultural significance. The production of the “other” must be considered in a universal manner that takes into account the hypocrisy and ethnocentrism of Western artistic practice – where, for example, religious ritual objects are taken out of context and exhibited as aesthetically pleasing works of art, while other equally worthy objects are ignored.  The institutions define the rules of the game, the vague definitions of the aesthetic and what is worthy of contemplation rests in the hands of the institutions themselves; the ideal of the public defining art and artifacts on purely academic grounds is entirely absent.  The universal element comes in with Gell’s perception of a common bond across cultures in “metaphors”; social conceptions shared between the West and the other.
The inherently elitist structures of artistic institutions are problematic in any examination of ‘art versus artifact’. Pierre Bourdieu’s research into the function of artistic institutions exposes them as maintainers of social distinctions. Conceptions of “taste” are a product of education and upbringing, not inherent aesthetic sense.  Within this framework of understanding, class conceptions become an important determinate of the ideals of taste and culture; social classes are distinguished through their understandings of what is (or is not) culture, what is appropriate, what is acceptable, and what is worthy of contemplation. Each social class, by a product of their distinct educations and social circumstances, has a unique notion of what constitutes art and how to analyze it. The education provided to higher social classes gives them a unique set of tools for understanding art, and their position gives them a vested interested in maintaining the admittedly elitist functions of artistic institutions. The academic canon thus imposes its rules of aesthetics and taste onto the artistic practice to control the production and reception of art, in a self-regulating cycle.  The reception of art is cloaked in codes that are understood only by the informed, the educated viewers who can see beyond the “primary” understanding into the “secondary” appreciation of the depth of a work.
In this elitist model of institutional practice, the reception of common objects or artifacts in an artistic setting is made difficult by the classifications of high culture versus “vulgar” or pedantic objects, a classification entirely produced and maintained by social position. Bourdieu points out that cultural consumption reflects upon the status of the viewer, not the higher ideals of pure aesthetics and natural taste.  This implicitly reinforces the primacy of the higher classes that abide by understandings of high aesthetics and “pure gazes” able to decode the meaning of artworks. As Bourdieu concludes, this becomes a way of “legitimating social differences”.  This creates a problem when opening the institution to anthropological critiques, as the institution has a legitimizing function in its presentation of objects in a context that, in effect, transforms them into artworks. Reconciling the two functions of the institution – maintaining social hierarchy, and defining what constitutes art – becomes a problematic exercise. As Carol Duncan points out in her examination of the Museum of Modern Art collection, the museum can easily become an “engine of ideology”  that colours the conception of art history and the art itself, in the case of the MOMA presenting a masculinized, constructed progression of art history in a modernist framework where newer is better, and the newest is best.
Beyond this, there is the problem of maintaining ideals of high culture and elitist models of institutional practice that favour high-minded ideology over public appeal. Vera Zolberg’s research into the educational practices of art museums paints a grim picture; art museums, moreseo than science or history museums, neglect to educate the public about their collections and exhibits, preferring to maintain an aloof stance in a social framework that echoes Bourdieu’s findings. Art museums maintain their appeal to a core of professional and amateur artistic intelligentsia, without reaching out to the general public or making any real attempt at an educational role.  This situation is driven by the idea of art speaking for itself to a viewing public that understands the aesthetic and artistic code system – an audience that is already educated.  Attempts to address this problem can often be contrived and superficial – Zolberg points to the commercial and consumerist veneer applied to the Centre Pompidou, a case where an old institution is given a new gloss without making any fundamental changes in practice or attempting to reach out to the public.
Many of these issues come together in the case of the The Art of the Motorcycle exhibit (figure 1).  Beginning in 1991, the Solomon R. Guggenheim in New York began to craft a proposed exhibit of over 100 motorcycles to chart the cultural and social development of the West (mainly the United States) through the 20th century. Where most museums would use key pieces of art to illustrate the evolution of popular culture, the Guggenheim would use key examples of production and racing motorcycles from the late 19th century to the present to chart the evolution of society alongside the evolution of the motorcycle. Perhaps quite pragmatically, the exhibit wasn’t touted as an artistic exploration of the motorcycle as art, so much as a cultural history using motorcycles as guideposts, with a secondary function of charting the evolution of design in motorcycles. Even the title gives away some of the uncertainty of presenting vehicles in an artistic setting – it is “Art of the Motorcycle”, not the motorcycle as art. Thomas Krens’ introduction to the exhibition catalogue lacks confidence. It’s clear that Krens is facing a great deal of opposition; he includes a quote from one outspoken critic in the introduction,  and the text seems to be a justification for the exhibit more than a celebration of it. Regardless, the exhibit met with resounding popular success and was moved to Las Vegas, Chicago, and Bilbao after the inaugural New York City exhibit in 1998.
Krens, Director of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, defined the exhibit as the opening of the Guggenheim to a “broader framework” of art, reflecting upon Walter Benjamin’s thoughts on mechanical reproduction - not as the death of original art, but as an exploration of the modern and the present through a new medium.  Krens describes this as the shift of the “superstructure” to the new ideas and appreciations of the “substructure” ; certainly it shows the willingness of the Guggenheim to open itself to the interests of a wider public and to embrace a hitherto ignored arena of design. He posits this exhibition as the revolutionary change in the superstructure, the introduction of a new subject into the current methodology.  It should be noted that Krens makes a key point in his introduction – the exhibit is an exploration of the “history” of motorcycle design within the context of the modern age.  The context is as important as the machines themselves, with the bikes reflecting the cultural and social shifts in Western society. Here the motorcycle becomes the literal vehicle for exploring the development of a Western popular culture across the 20th century, dividing the exhibit into significant eras.  Reading the introduction, one gets the impression that the this is not an exhibit of the motorcycle as an art object. Design and aesthetics, however present they may be in the motorcycles exhibited, are not the primary focuses, instead the historical context and its reflection in the development of the motorcycle is the key to understanding the motivation of the exhibit. Even the catalogue blurbs for each bike are generic motorcycle-magazine fare, and are not particularly concerned with the aesthetics of the machines.
Gell’s thoughts on the exhibition of objects in an institutional space apply to the The Art of the Motorcycle exhibit. Here we have the presentation of mass-produced  examples of Western consumer culture, items of transport, recreation, entertainment and competition in a museum setting, for contemplation as both objects of beauty and industrial design and as signifiers of the progress of modernism. Much like the African and Asian objects taken out of their context and divorced from their original meanings, these machines are put onto pedestals for scrutiny in a way that was never intended; to truly understand the value of these designs, they must be heard, seen in motion, or better yet ridden. In the space of the exhibit they are silent, benign and reduced to inanimate objects in a way that was never intended by their creators. Modernist ideas of formalist examination reign here – the motorcycles are studies in form, colour, line and industrial design, placed alongside architecture as a sort of functional art. This is if one accepts these motorcycles as art, simply by their presence in the Guggenheim; if we are to take the themes and format of the exhibit at face value then they function merely as cultural signifiers, and are not to be considered artworks on par with some great modernist installation.
Krens summarizes the motorcycle in a way that makes consideration of these machines as artwork problematic: “Embodying the more abstract themes of speed, rebellion, progress, freedom, sex, and danger, the motorcycle has been immortalized as a cultural icon that has been transformed with the times.”  Krens make some quick references to the importance of design in motorcycles and a single phrase on their beauty, but he manages to dodge the issue of considering the motorcycle an artwork. One has to ask if the artistic value of the machines is implicit in the fact that they are presented in the Guggenheim, the mere fact of their presence in the institutional space lending them legitimacy as objects of contemplation. This raises the question of what can then constitute artwork, if mass produced vehicles can be placed on par with the greatest works of modernism. Certainly this is an issue that has yet to be resolved, and it is not unique to the Guggenheim (the MOMA has been exhibiting automobiles for many years, albeit outside of the regular exhibition space), but it is indicative of the recent shifts in institutional practices that are occurring where consumer culture has become a source of objects for artistic contemplation. According to Krens “The Art of the Motorcycle is part of that trajectory of exhibition programming at the Guggenheim that will broaden the museum’s cultural reach and engender its more active participation in the interpretation of contemporary art and culture.”

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Footnotes

1.Gell 15
2.Ibid 16
3.Ibid 17
4.Ibid 17
5.Ibid 19
6.Ibid 20
7.Ibid 23
8.And probably rightly so; giving the power of definition to the public would have its own set of problems (I refer here of the general public’s rejection of anything perceived as offensive, ugly, incomprehensible, too simple etc in favour of popular work). This “problem” arises in the criticisms leveled at the Guggenheim for its “Motorcycle” exhibit, where the “public” becomes a malevolent force that the Guggenheim is selling out to in order to get money and attention, rather than maintaining idealistic and elitist conceptions of the maintenance of an aloof artistic framework free from the public’s desires. (see Zoldberg 49)
9.Gell 31
10.Bourdieu 1
11.“Art which imitates art”, and education reinforcing “history”. (Ibid 3-4)
12.Ibid 2
13.Ibid 6
14.Ibid 7
15.Duncan 172
16.Ibid 171
17.Zolberg 51
18.Ibid 52
19.Ibid 58-59
20.I have had a particular interest in the “Art of the Motorcycle” exhibit for several years. Even though the exhibit preceded my entry into the sport by several years, I found it one of the most poignant examinations of motorcycle culture and design that has ever been assembled. More than this, I have owned two of the motorcycles presented in the original 1998 catalogue – my first motorcycle, a 1985 BMW K100RS (catalogue no. 81), and my current mount, a 1997 Ducati 916 (catalogue no. 88).
21.The critic being Hilton Kramer, who wrote in The Wall Street Journal that the exhibit was “a bald faced ploy to bring in money and whatever attendance might come rolling in on motorcycles”. Kramer’s referral to motorcycle riders (usually perceived as a working class rabble by the uninformed) as some sort of unwanted plague should be noted. (Art of the Motorcycle 15-16)
22.Art of the Motorcycle 14
23.Ibid 14
24.Ibid 16
25.Ibid 15
26.An outline of the exhibit structure and a brief overview of the themes can be seen at http://www.guggenheim.org/exhibitions/past_exhibitions/motorcycle/motorcycle.html
27.As an example, for the Ducati 916 (figures 2 & 3), often considered one of the most beautiful Italian vehicles of the 20th century and the masterstroke of designer Massimo Tamburini, the catalogue lists some of the engineering details, racing successes, and an extremely basic overview of the model’s development. As for aesthetics, “(the 916 had) one of the most distinctive styling jobs ever seen on two wheels.” (Art of the Motorcycle 379)
28.The majority of the bikes featured in the exhibit were mass production models, most produced in thousands, or millions in the case of the Honda Super Cub (cat. no. 56). Certain machines would qualify as singular works; there are several modified machines, including one of the “Easy Rider” film bikes (cat. no. 61). Perhaps the closest to a true one-off artwork is the handbuilt Britten V-1000 racebike (cat. no. 87); designed and built from scratch by New Zealand artist-turned-engineer John Britten, the bike was a revolutionary design in every respect and one of the most advanced motorcycles of the 20th century. 10 were produced before his death in 1995.
29.Also absent is any real indication of what the motorcycle means outside of the West. The exhibit is a study in Western values, culture and society, and not much more.
30.Art of the Motorcycle 17
31.Ibid 17
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Figure 1: The Art of the Motorcycle exhibit at the Solomon R. Guggenheim museum in New York City, 1998. Exhibition space designed by Frank Gehry.

Figure 2: Ducati 916, The Art of the Motorcycle catalogue no. 88. Photos taken from the exhibition catalogue.

Figure 3
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Bibliography

The Art of the Motorcycle
New York: Guggenheim Museum Publications, 2001

Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste,
trans. Richard Nice.
London: Routledge, 1986

Duncan, Carol. “The MOMA’s Hot Mamas” Art Journal, vol. 48, no. 2, Summer 1989. pp. 171-178

Gell, Alfred. “Vogel’s Net: Traps as Artworks and Artworks as Traps” Journal of Material Culture, vol. 1, no.1, 1996. pp. 15-38

Rampley, Matthew. “Art History and Cultural Difference: Alfred Gell’s Anthropology of Art” Art History, vol. 28, no. 4, September 2005. pp. 524-551

Zolberg, Vera L. “ ‘An Elite Experience for Everyone’: Art Museums, the Public, and Cultural Literacy” Museum Culture: Histories, Discourses, Spectacles eds. Daniel J. Sherman, Irit Rogoff.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994. pp. 49-65