
I keep forgetting. But, I usually do that. This time I keep forgetting to say that there are only a few short days left to see the Bespoke Show at the Museum of Art and Design (MAD) at Columbus Circle, in New York City. Yes, that New York City. August 15th is the final day for the show. But, while we are on the subject of handmade bikes, something that we are usually on here, there is another event we should mention quickly. If you are going to be heading over to the MAD show, you should stop by the Cycle Club to see the Richard Sachs Continental bike for the month of August (well, except for when I steal it away to ride D2R2). And tomorrow night there is a chance to meet some of the builders themselves, such as the famed Chris Igleheart.

Moving back to the MAD. Recently I saw the exhibit. Well, it was not that recently, it was actually the same day that I came back from viewing the Velodrome in little old Emmaus, PA (the biggest little bike town in American – is what I would like to call it from here on out [BLBTNA.)) I rode the bus back the next morning after seeing the sights and drinking the beers with Keith P. and TruBS. And when I got off the the bus I figured that I was close enough to trek over to the MAD from and check out what all the hubbub was all about.


So, I booked it uptown – no idea if this is actually uptown , but I’m going to go for it, you know? I walked the few blocks to the museum, but the stifling heat that is NYC made it seem twice as hot as it really is. Which made it 400 degrees walking through that tunnel of hi-rise buildings. Anyway, little country me did it, just like that. I followed the superphone directions to that place and before I knew it I was there.
The space itself is great. Nice and white and large enough to make you go: “How the shit do they do this in New York City?” It really is quite remarkable. The only thing is this: No Photographs.



Come on people this is a gallery space, this is not for snapping away with your digital camera, or your iphone, so don’t try to do it. I could see from the onset that I was going to have some trouble with this one too. My uptown commute, by foot, had brought me to a spot (the MAD in fact) where I was a little bit warmer than usual, and with my tshirt starting hang off of me I tried to plead my case with the good looking girls behind the reception counter. They would have none of it (rightfully so) and no matter how I tried, it did not look good for me getting my own images here.

Well, eventually they put me in touch with their Chief Marketing Officer, or something to that effect so as to get rid of me, but I produced the proper accreditation insuring that I was indeed who I said I was (no one in particular) and was finally allowed to snap a few photographs. Being as thought I wasn’t there “within the required media time” or the day when the media were allow to take photos, it caused quite a stir, and a couple others were dissuade from using their camera phones and digitals even when they produced a “well, what about him” whining, all the while pointing at me. Turns out I had the Golden Hallpass or however that goes…
The bikes there are nothing that we haven’t seen before. And I do not mean for that to come across in a rude way either. Quite literally I have seen these bicycles before. I have seen Richard Sachs Cyclocross Bikes, I have seen Sacha White’s little trike, I have even seen a few of Mike Flannigan’s A.N.T. bikes too. And Jeff Jones? Love that guy.

But there were two things that I had not seen that struck me about this show. One, I had not seen these bicycles in such an elegant space. And two, the ephemera that they had collected around each builder was something that exhibited a pretty special demeanor. But maybe that has something to do with number one.



It probably goes without saying that the best environment to view these bicycles is their natural state. The state that finds them on open roads or muddy cyclocross courses. That finds the Jones bikes ripping through the Oregon forests doing endo’s for only the trees to see. Cruising along a boulevard with a bottle of wine strapped into the basket up front, these are the places that bicycles should be viewed. But in each of those cases they are only seen individually and if we saw all of these together at the same time out in the wild it would seem a little gratuitous and also maybe a little grotesque. (Is not a Sachs bike made for Ripping through the mud, not strapping wine to the front?) But what the Museum does is take them out of their element and give them context next to each other.




So, that you are able to look at them a whole. Wander through the collection and see how they inspire you, but at the same time, see how they have inspired each other. We sometimes forget that that here in the states this form of art is relatively new and that there is a good chance, no matter what they’re proximity to each other they are still aware of each other. And once again, this space prevails.

The long display at the end of the hall was where I spent the most time. Even after I had put away my camera and had been left alone, I still spent the majority of the time slowing moving down the display case and looking at the what was displayed there. All of the New Yorker covers that were on the wall (there should be a new one to add to Mr. Sachs collection with this months cover) excited me simply because I had heard Richard talk about this collection before when we met him at his space in Connecticut. And to see early photos of him racing with a crazy head of hair next to a stack of his now trademark red welding glasses, well, that is the kind of stuff that I came to see…
















































