Yes, We Could Definitely Ride

Owing to the past two weeks being a cultural wasteland for me (for the most part anyway), I couldn't resist getting out for some art viewing this afternoon. I called up a J-Ward friend and asked if he wanted to accompany me without even telling him what it was I wanted to see. He's game like that, though, and said he'd be over in an hour.

We were going to Quirk Gallery to see Couldn't We Ride: The Art and Craft of Bicycles, a show which will surely fascinate a good part of this city's pedaling population. With no real idea of what to expect, I was struck by the array of bicycle-related things gathered for the show.

The exhibit started with an array of R.E.Load bags, those unique handmade messenger bags that are as artful as they are utilitarian. As someone who's been to the R.E.Load shop in Philly, I can attest to both the passion and enthusiasm of the makers (as well as purchasers) of these bags. The ones at Quirk were a well-thought out representation of the variety of artistic styles that make it on to R.E.Load bags. If you're going to wear a big old bag, it may as well make an artistic statement.

One of the hand-painted bike frames was as exquisite as a piece of ceramic, with a creamy ivory background and colorful, delicate flowers and other imagery painted all over it. It was such a beautiful frame that you'd almost hate to see mud splattered on it, an inevitability if it were actually ridden.

On the other hand, the Assless Bike was born out of passion, a creation of a biking enthusiast diagnosed with colorectal cancer and told by his doctor that he was no longer allowed to ride a bike. With an "I'll show him!" attitude, he created a bike that has no seat, thus allowing him to pedal and still follow doctor's orders. It was truly an inspiring thing to witness hanging from the ceiling.

The show is varied, with hand-hammered fittings reminiscent of a fine suit of armour, photographs and paintings of bikes and cyclists and some of the most beautiful etched saddles imaginable. As the artist said, she'd prefer to see her saddles used and become worn rather than treated as works of art, which these clearly were and would remain, even if worn down by use.

There were beautifully cut metal chain guards, including one that resembled a forest, although at first glance the cut-out looked rather abstract. Closer inspection showed open spaces between trunks and towering tree tops. But what a way to protect a chain!

I only ride my bike once or twice a week and I was completely enamored of this show. Regular riders will undoubtedly salivate in appreciation of their fellow riders and artists who have transformed the people's transportation into artistic things of beauty.

And, yes, I immediately came home and took my very basic bike out for a ride. After two weeks at the beach, I was missing riding anyway and if ever I was inspired to appreciate my bike, it was walking out of Quirk Gallery today.

As one of my favorite street art posters proclaims: Crank your city. Ride daily. Live happy.