Your $15.00 buys you a button...and a great time!

I’ve always thought of the bicycle as a work of art. Simple in design and purpose, but a work of art nonetheless. I’ve been hooked on bicycles ever since I can remember, so when I heard that the Museum of Arts and Design in New York City was planning an exhibit dedicated to them, I had to check it out. When the show opened, however, I hesitated a few times before visiting: Did I really feel like dropping $15.00 to look at some expensive bicycles, the same thing I do randomly—and for free—during my lunchtime visits to bike shops? In the end I’m glad I went, because the bicycles were beautiful to look at.

There was much controversy over the Museum of Art and Design’s redesign of its current location, at 2 Columbus Circle; I’ll just go on record saying that the smallish—yet tasteful—exhibit space didn’t distract from the forms of the bicycles, which is a good thing. Displayed in the exhibit are bikes crafted by six internationally known builders: Mike Flanigan, Jeff Jones, Dario Pegoretti, Richard Sachs, J. Peter Weigle, and Sacha White. I’m not going to go into detail on each of their accomplishments here, as a few sentences wouldn’t do them justice, and you’d learn more from a Google search anyway.

On exhibit are bicycles of all sorts, including a sweet tricycle for children (that would undeniably be the hottest trike in any neighborhood), cyclocross, fixed-gear, road, mountain and touring bicycles, the last inspired by French randonneurs from the 1950s and 1960s. No ropes separate you from the bicycles, so, short of touching them, you can get quite close to fully appreciate the details and workmanship on display. The quality of the finish alone on most of the bicycles is stunning; the colors of the paint seem so deep that you could drown in them. Even something utilitarian, like a water bottle cage, was elegantly designed on J. Peter Weigle’s Ladies Randonneur Bicycle.

Sacha White's "Speedvagen"

There was one bike called the “Speedvagen” by Sacha White, whose tubes and joints were organic and as smooth as glass. The rear dropouts of this track bike are pure machined gorgeousness. This was one of two photographs I was able to take—before security was on my case—of the dropouts. No matter, photographs don’t do these bicycles justice anyway. They’re sort of like the Grand Canyon—something that needs to be seen in person. Yes that’s right, I just compared them to the Grand Canyon! All the bikes are gorgeous, but they’re also meant to be ridden. One of the several bikes on display by Richard Sachs was a mud-laden cross bike fresh from a recent outing, sitting next to its spotless doppelganger. Both looked great.

I have on occasion thought about learning the craft of frame building, but after looking at the bikes on display, I think I’ll leave that to those passionate souls. I repainted a bicycle once but barely had the patience to use primer on it before painting it, since that required an additional step. No, no frame building for me. I just hope that one day I can get my hands on a bike like one of those and park it in my living room, so I can admire it when I’m not riding it.

Also included in the exhibit is a video highlighting a couple of the builders, and a glass cabinet along the back wall that contains all sorts of cycling ephemera that offer a glimpse into a builder’s life: bike parts, photographs, sketches, patches from races, welding lugs, funky tools and more. For literary types, there’s a nice selection of New Yorker magazine covers that span several decades displayed on the wall above the glass cabinet—I really enjoyed looking at them.

If you visit with family or friends who don’t share your enthusiasm for bicycles, there are other exhibits in the museum for them to peruse. I didn’t check anything else out since I spent all my time stalking the bicycles, but there were some interesting jewelry pieces on display on the same floor.

Roughly 28 years ago, my friend Greg came home with a Richard Sachs frameset, purchased from someone who no longer needed it or never got around to building it. We cycled everywhere back then and were trying our hand at some club races too. He said it was a good frame and would make a great ride, but I knew next to nothing about custom frames. It also never would have occurred to me that one day I’d be looking at the same make of bicycle in a museum. He had paid around $350 for it, about the same as what I had just spent for a complete bicycle; we were kids and this was big money for us. I no longer have the bicycle I bought, but Greg held onto the Sachs, and now he has a collectible on his hands. I think he should hang it in his living room.

Bespoke: The Handbuilt Bicycle runs until August 15, 2010.