Custom

Thus far, I've managed to live the life of a creative individual. In the most recent years of my ragtag and not necessarily illustrious (however, satisfying) career, I have found myself the most engaged in pursuits that are collaborative in nature.

Early in the decade, it came in the form of drawing and painting from various models, in a small group setting. For any art school veterans, it's mostly an experience like a studio class, only with beer drinking and pot smoking instead of coffee and cigarettes in the hall, next to the vending machines. Simultaneously, I began to play the drums on an almost weekly basis with my oldest friends. Of late that endeavor has evolved in constructive ways and is beginning to take on a new life of its own... more on that later.

What this post is about, is that I am also collaborating on my first and, likely, only custom frame build for the last touring bike that I imagine I will own and use. Over the past dozen plus years, I had been touring and riding a 650b Saluki that I started to build as my interest and love affair grew, with respect to the French cyclo-touring aesthetic and ethos. More on that, find a copy of Bicycle Quarterly and work your way back to when it was still "Vintage Bicycle Quarterly". I was an early subscriber and its fair to say that my position on the bicycle is heavily informed by Jan Heine and his cohort.

As I write this post, the framebuilder that I have chosen for my project, is in his shop working on the final fit to all the lugs. And as he assembles it into his jig it edges ever closer to becoming the critical component that makes the machine, born out of the Safety Bicycle over a century ago. (with little real improvement needed, I might add.) All the modes of transportation to follow are awesome in their own ways, but non are as pure in the relationship between human and machine as the bicycle.

I didn't set out to build a custom frame. In fact, it seemed like a bridge further than I needed to go at my age. Now, I'm not saying I'm old, but anybody's touring and riding habit is finite, and the body has kicked back more so, north of 50. I don't see, doing a PBP or even going coast to coast, but there are still plenty of adventures ahead. So I might as well do it in style.

What set the wheels in motion,(that's a horrible pun here), was an eBay listing for a frameset by a builder down in Miami. It was a fit that seemed close to perfect and it remained  at low bid. I kept checking in and each time I did, my interest deepened. I started to calculate how much I could get for sales on parts I had, including my Rivendell Saluki. Cutting to the chase, I did not win the bid on that frame, but I did at that point decide to build a custom. The builder of that frame was Michael Terraferma. And in 2011 one of his bikes was featured in an issue of Bicycle Quaterly and rather favorably reviewed as a bike that just wanted to get up and go...I'm paraphrasing. Others have commented on how he is a builder that has come into his own. I can say that over the course of the last several months as we have conversed back and forth on this build, I am confident that I will have a frame that is every bit a rival to the great mid-century french builders.

My first generation Saluki 2005-2018

French Blue / St. Christophe

At the start of 2018 I purchased a used frame from a seller in France. I didn't expect to receive a bonus stamp collection.

Bernard Carré

I was drawn to this frame because of the fork rake. It being low-trail I had a closer look at the lugs and did a bit of research on the builder. While it was a frame built for a local shop outside Paris, it doesn't seem to be a custom. I am guessing the date to be in the early to mid 1970's. Likely made from Reynolds 531 and the lug work has some thinning work, always a sign of higher craftsmanship. 

The badge has wear, but one can make out the name Pithoud of Lyon, France

The maker's mark (notice the thinned lugs)

The frame came with a vintage Stronglight Competition headset in good working order.

The frame was built for 700c wheels, though I converted to my preferred 650b size wheels. Here I am using a set of Vintage NOS Super Champion rims with a New Grand Bois Large flange Hub on the front and a New Dia Compe ENE on the rear. The tires are Compass Loup Loup Pass extra light. 650b x 32.

Super sweet.

The hanger on the rear drop was for a Simplex derailleur which was all right by me, as Simplex is a preferred product of mine. 

The front derailleur as well as the cable stops are also period Simplex.

I've been waiting for the right bike to apply this water transfer....

Seems right.

Shakedown ride late last winter...

First iteration...

studio parking...

current state complete with Honjo fenders and all set for winter riding.

Out and back in lieu of the PBP.

  This coming summer 2015, an epic, organized bicycle event happens in France. ...No, not that one, the one that matters to some of us everyday riders. It's a supremely overused word, but epic was the key word. In mid-August several thousand riders from around the world will assemble in Paris and ride off into the night on a self-supported four day journey to the Atlantic coast town of Brest and then back to Paris. A more appropriate use of the word epic doesn't come to my mind. The PBP is run every 4 years, dating back to 1891. When I started dreaming about riding off into the landscape it didn't take long to learn about the sport of randonneurring. I imagined one day finishing the required brevets and qualifying to make the journey over to France to attempt this historic ride. I don't currently carry a membership with RUSA, but have in the past and on a few occasions have ridden the shorter brevets. Maybe one day I will devote the time....though anyone who rides a decent amount can likely complete a brevet, putting together the time to complete a whole series to then travel and do the 1200K overseas remains a provocative fantasy. While I wholly embrace the ethos of the randonneur, in practice I tend more towards the solitude of bicycle camping and getting a bit lost on the map.

  I won't be participating this year in the PBP, but it's still in the bucket. In an effort to ride in spirit with those making the journey this summer I am looking to do a camp and ride from my home a mile or so from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River south of Prairie Du Chein cutting across the Driftless in the SW corner of Wisconsin. Not quite a PBP, but a respectable journey never-the-less.

Circling Back

 It's been quite some time since I posted here last. And, in the elapsed time there have been bicycle adventures and misadventures.  There are visual endeavors and sonic projects to recap.  Currently, I am in the midst deep winter preoccupation with mapping a route from Milwaukee straight West to the mighty Mississippi and back.

 In the past 5 years, my children have gone from munchkins to youngsters and, with that, a recalibration of purpose has transpired.  Reinvention is always at the core of the creative engine and my core has been in a molten state for some time now, although the crust layer can be hard to penetrate; perhaps, this journal exercise will again help me survey, sample and assess what it is I am trying to do with my time on this earth...

What follows is a lightly edited post that I began in late 2010

Works in progress....part two

....On Lynden Hill

When the sun felt like spring this past April it seemed time to head east on my morning constitutional dog walk. A handful of blocks from my house is the site of what I belive was an asylum. A spot that I know as Lynden Hill. It is directly across the street from The High School for the Arts...(formerly Known as West Division). The neighborhood that I have resided in for the past 15 years is at the historical core of Milwaukee. Lynden Hill is located directly between Cold Spring Park (my hood....once trotter park, and fun zone for Milwaukee socialites), and the outer campus area of Marquette University.

What remains at the site of the hospital is earth piled a story high to the south end of the city square. In itself, it does create a hill with a gentle slope to the north; however, I am not sure if the hospital once stood on this hill? It is safe to say that the hill has been there for some time as the neighborhood has cultivated that spot and calls itself a "treehouse community". The incidental arboretum that has endured has a wonderful variety of specimen. It is cared for and managed to a degree, by folks from the USDA Forest Service,...among other agencies. 

 As a plot it is not tremendous, but still nearly equal to perhaps two football fields side to side. This hill became a destination for the dog an I. Our approach would be from different angles and I was initially struck by the view looking south as the trees and earth formed a barrier to visually negotiate this space, while peering at glimpses of the city. The trees were still quite bare when I had my first encounters there. And, in the process of scouting other locations I let time pass-by. Upon returning a bit later in the season to begin work, I realized quickly that I had to move up the hill. The foliage overwhelmed the image I saw early on. I eventually settled on a site in the southeastern corner. The view looks across the lot for the High School and then across Highland Blvd. Through the tree growth that lines the street you can see glimpses of The Ambassador Hotel and other dwellings. This panel was the first to be worked up with an underdrawing and loosely became a guide for the things I found interesting in subsequent images.

...View from Lynden Hill: underdrawing

...with imprimatura applied

...after the first session of painting

...detail: View from Lynden Hill

View from Lynden Hill 2010
oil and beeswax on panel

View beyond the Yard

The site on top of the hill offered, with the view, a place to paint in solitude. Only once did I encounter other people and they were there to mow the grass. The one other painting from this season's work that I found myself working in near isolation was the View Just Beyond the Yard. I have made several drawings while casting my gaze in this direction. Some from my studio on the thrid floor and one that was composed from a similar vantage point.

Rooftops/ S.E. 2003

oil pastel on prepared paper

Rooftps/ april snow 2003

oil pastel on prepared paper

Backlot 2003

graphite on paper

Outbuilding 2003

oil pastel on prepared paper

Over a short amount of time, I have watched as the vine structure that walks the walls of the garage in Outbuilding, running along the picket fence, take hold and propgate rapidly. Just across the lot a wall of speedy growing, Armageddon immune trees and shrubs have entwined to make an additional layer of greens in the background of this view, as seen from ground level. In late summer these trees in the distance begin a subtle shift towards yellow as the deeper foreground leaves seem to fall down the value scale until they turn a range of sienna to iron oxide. it is at the precipice of these seasonal changes that the quality of light begins to visually seperate this space. The light pole is then a rather forceful lever that asserts its location and works to pry these layers of space apart.

...detail: View Beyond the Yard

...View Beyond the Yard: underdrawing

A View Beyond the Yard 2010

oil and beeswax on linen



29th & Wells 

Wells Street runs west from the lake. It passes City Hall and the Pabst Theatre just east of the Milwaukee River. the immediate west of the river is home to many civic institutions in the Milwaukee metro area. The County Court House, Natural History (Public) Museum and main branch of the Public Library are all crossed before passing west of interstate 43. Just beyond the freeway is the eastern perimeter of the Marquette University. In the midst of the campus is the Milwaukee Rescue Mission, which itself is not far from the Pabst Mansion. Beyond say, 23rd or maybe 24th streets things turn a bit strained. Much of the property, though once charming and certainly well made, has seen years of neglect. It is an area with deeply entrenched poverty. By the time you cross 27th street there are glimpses of a late Nineteenth & early Twentieth century architecture worth noting. Interspersed with random public housing structures and cinder block tenement style apartments that stand out as the exact opposite in every way to their Victorian neighbors. part of this stretch...running from roughly 24th street to 35th had been called "crack alley" by our current chief of police. The corner of 29th and Wells is a mere 1/2 mile due south of where I live in Cold Spring Park. I enjoyed working this corner a great deal. And I was treated to honest commentary and conversation everyday from the most diverse group of humans that have ever laid eyes on my work and had taken the time to comment. It is fair to say it was not the usual commentary that one might expect in a gallery setting. 

...View from 29th & Wells

...site: 29th & Wells

...underdrawing 29th & Wells

View from 29th & Wells



Circling Back

 I started these next few panels in the fall of 2010. They are all in  an underdrawing form with a light imprimatura brushed over the top. And they are a continuation of formal investigations from earlier in this post. It's the view to the south east as seen from my attic windows. I think they deserve to be fleshed out. So in an effort to move forward as a painter, I should circle back and bring these to a resolution.

Attic Views / S.E.

works in progress...part one...

Beginning in the waning days of spring 2010, I began work on a series of paintings to be hung this fall at Katie Gingrass Gallery. The work is part of a group show entitled Urbane: Portrait of a City. I suppose my inclusion makes a good amount of sense as I have been making drawings around the city for a number of years now. The current shift in my process has been venturing out loaded to paint. As a set-up it requires a bit more than works on paper. I have an old hiker's frame that I use to carry my french easel, complete with pigments and brushes. In the pannier baskets I carry my medium, a can with solvent for clean up, rags, and some snacks. Its cumbersome nature was an initial factor in keeping me closer to home for this work. All of my locations were within a couple of miles from where I live, on the near west side of Milwaukee. Working off the side of the bike also dictated the scale as it does with works on paper. Perhaps, there is a cargo bike in my future, should I choose to scale up?

In the early stages of the work, while scouting and drawing, the panels were strapped to the gear on the hiker's frame. It wasn't until the painting began in earnest that I installed the panniers.

location: Washington Park Lagoon 2

The short film at the heading of this post was shot on location in Washington Park and was the site of the second of two paintings along the Lagoon. Since 2005, I have made numerous monotypes that are loosely based on memories of a shoreline. Over the prior winter, I completed a suite of those prints and with several of the "ghosts" I developed painterly images working on top of the prints with Sennelier oil pastels. Though these works on paper are all inventions relying on memory of past observation, they seem to have acted as a genesis for this summer's painting, which was made exclusively and faithfully from observation.

Washington Park Lagoon 2: underdrawing

...with imprimatura applied

...following the first session of painting

...at work during the final session of painting

...detail from Washington Park Lagoon 2

In recent years I have cultivated a special relationship with this park. In part because it is close to home, and life with small children requires park time. There is also a certain quality that this particular space has that is difficult to pinpoint or describe. Maybe it is some echo of its grand past? Afterall, it is one of the flagship spaces in Frederick Law Olmsted's "Grand Necklace of Parks" designed for the Milwaukee area in the latter part of the 19th century. Formerly known as the West Park Zoological Gardens. It is positioned in such a way that it is bordered by neighborhoods that run the gamut of social and economic strata. To the east and some degree the north, you find some of the deepest poverty in the city. to the south you find a more entrenhced middle and working class. And to the west you find an avenue lined with wonderful stately homes one of which is the the domicile of our current Mayor. All of this means that the park ends up being utilized by a very demographically rich group of people as they comingle, excercise, play or perhaps find respite before returning to their life circumstances.

location: Washington Park Lagoon 1

...at the end of the first session of drawing

...underdrawing with imprimatura applied

...after the first session of painting

...after the second session of painting

During the early part of this past decade I spent time teaching on the college level. On more than one occasion I found myself speaking to how often one's process and even life trajectory may be cyclical in a way that is akin to a telephone cord (for those of you that can remember phones of a bygone telecom era). The cord does travel forward, but it constantly circles as it coils. Metaphorically, one may find their own work mimicking such a path. As you progress you simultaneously cross your prior path, mining your past as you move ahead.

One of my earliest, outside of school, art program experiences was taking part in a summer camp run by Fred Silver called Art Street Studio, in the early 1980's. The first year I signed up the program was held in Washington Park and was based in a commons building (which is now home to the Urban Ecology Center of Milwaukee, west campus). This is an area that is very close to the location of these paintings. In the program, there was a theatre troupe that would roam the park exploring experimental and improvisational modes of expression. The Milwaukee music legend, Berkley Fudge, ran a camp for jazz musicians. The sculptor Tom Queoff headed out the sculpture program and finally there was a 2-dimensional program, which is where I landed. back then it could be pretty rough in the park and we only lasted a few weeks before relocating to Lake Park (another Olmsted designed space). It's fascinating to me that after a quarter century I have returned and continue to utilize this park as a source for my artistic endeavours. What may be even more intersting is that during this summer's work I had more than one wonderful and slightly educational conversation with curious kids wondering how & what I was doing. Only now I was in the role of mentor.