The Exner Files
My two postings on the 1970s Stutz "revival" cars (original article here, follow-up conversation with Stutz owner Jim Milliken here) led to a rather momentous event. Appearing in the inbox at Car Lust World Headquarters was an e-mail from none other than Virgil M. Exner, Jr., the son of the legendary automobile stylist Virgil M. Exner.
Mr. Exner's father designed the Stutz Blackhawk, of course, but he is best remembered for the Chrysler "Forward Look" cars of the 1950s and 60s. (He also designed the first postwar Studebakers, the timelessly cool Diablo concept car, and a few others you might have heard of.) Mr. Exner, Jr., who has had a distinguished career in design in his own right, had some interesting things to say about the design of the Esquire/Renwal "revival" cars, the stillborn Deusenberg, the Stutz, and just about automotive design in general. I've reproduced his letter below the fold, followed by my reactions and those of some of the other Car Lust contributors.
Virgil Exner Jr.:
"The Esquire article "Introducing" by Diana Bartley, was greatly successful in that it aided my father's and my aim at the time to "capture the spirit of older car design and body type in a modern package". She did not opine as to the specific design quality of our works. Our thoughts were realized when it became evident that there were people that truly wanted to produce design revivals in the spirit of the Esquire effort and contacted us. Renwal models came aboard after we contracted with Fritz Duesenberg (the son of August) and we had already contracted with the Copper Development Association to build the Mercer Cobra.
" The prototype 1966 Duesenberg was built at Ghia and the production of the first 50 cars was virtually sold out to the many stars with a $1,000 down payment (of $19,000) before it was first shown. Our own Bugatti Type 101-C was built along side of it. The one and only big Duesenberg investor decided to go race his horses instead of further financing ($295,000) the venture.
"James O'Donnell then contacted my father, visited our studio, and wanted to pursue a Stutz program as the name Stutz Motor Cars of America, Inc. was available on a stock issue basis. He chose a Blackhawk version over a Bearcat design [(pictured above)] to proceed with. A designer can not always choose his liking and one must try to insure a decent return on investment to stay in business so that we can live to design another day. Nevertheless, father and I believed in the design although I thought the front and rear overhangs were too long (when I saw his full size clay model) and didn't care for his insistence that it carried the exposed spare tire. The outside exhaust was meant to be real, but emissions got in the way. Regardless, the Blackhawk was very successful. I went with Ford Design and father died before the later than 1974 versions were created, that I have regarded as excessive."My father was and I have always been a proponent of the small car and we designed many, but the design of a large automobile is the greater challenge, as one must put more interest into a larger area of bodywork that contributes to the whole to give it a clean, mobile, and elegant look to the underscore its purpose. We never believed in chrome, but that an automobile should have distinctive built-in character. Otherwise, we have slab sided buses. I believe we accomplished that in those 'Revival' day's projects without the benefit of a desired plastics technology that has now allowed crashworthy, chrome-free, front and rear ends. I fought the good fight at Ford in 1968 to bring about, at least, a partially painted chrome front bumper on my 1970 T-Bird design. Cars of today are far better in all respects, as they should be, and there is plenty of room (I've done a lot of aero testing) to put a distinctive face on cars again now and tomorrow's cars.
"Both Jim Milliken and Peter Madle are very good friends of mine and hold many cars and types of cars in all eras in high esteem. The true auto enthusiasts care for more than their own era's cars.
Beauty existed long before man beheld it or named it. There is good art with its inherent possession of design and there is bad art without form, just as there is the right answer and wrong answer in Mathematics or Physics. Art is only a little more subjective, but too many ignore art education and think that only their own taste is right. Too many people think that anything goes in art, and music as well. Good design can be taught and learned, just as good music."
Cookie the Dog's Owner: I have a few quick thoughts:
-- That last paragraph . . . what he said!
-- In my original article on the Stutz, I'd commented on the stylistic similarities between the Stutz and other 1970s personal luxury cars, including the 1970-71 "Beak Bird" Thunderbird. When I wrote that, I didn't know that Virgil Exner Jr. had a hand in designing that particular T-Bird. The family connection certainly goes a ways toward explaining the family resemblance!
-- The Bearcat design which Mr. Exner sent us (pictured at the top) is extremely cool. It certainly has the spirit of the original Stutz Bearcat--no nonsense, all business, wealthy but not soft. There is also a certain similarity to the Mercer Cobra --and the horizontal fenders on both of them also reminded me of the horizontal accents on the 1962 Valiant. I asked Mr. Exner about that in an e-mail, and this is what he had to say:
"Father's boyhood era was more oriented to long hoods and large exposed wheels with fenders. He decided to bring back more of that "inherent automotive look" after his "Forward Look" and earlier K-310 designs. He sought to do that in the '62 Chrysler designs, including the Valiant. Then, it was a "natural" for the "revival" series. So, you see, he was a bit prejudiced too. Aren't we all?
" Incidentally, father chose the name "Valiant". The car was to be named "Falcon" after the 1955 Chrysler Falcon show car, but Henry Ford II wanted to name Ford's new small Ford "Falcon" at the time. So, Henry asked Tex Colbert whether Ford might have the name. Tex explained to father that from time to time Ford had done a few favors for Chrysler and would father mind. Father said OK, then renamed the car after his favorite comics artist's "Prince Valiant."
-- I'm really warming up to the 1966 Deusenberg. I think it is a more pleasing design than the Stutz--a bit more restrained and understated, but still "different" enough to serve the needs of those who are looking to attract attention to themselves with their wheels. It's a darned shame that the Deusenberg project fell apart.
When I shared Mr. Exner's e-mail with the other Car Lust contributors, a couple of the guys responded, and then some other ones responded to the responses, and .... well, see for yourself . ...
Mochi Mochi: My first reaction is to look at the whole of what is written here. Mr. Exner's letter and also CookieTDO's commentary. One of the things that is being discussed is design and all that goes into it, and the other is taste. Mr. Exner makes a great point that a real car enthusiast cares for cars beyond or outside of his own time--this is awareness and breadth, the hallmarks of education and perspective, being able to see more than just what is in front of you and trace the history of design. And Cookie talks about a softening of his feelings toward the design of the '66 Deusenberg--this is really about taste.
Taste is this funny thing that is not really well understood. Recently some theorists have attempted to develop a philosophy of taste. I have not been able to pin down a good source on this work, but I'm guessing that it may parallel the philosophy of aesthetics which had its origins in ancient Greece and which was evolved and extrapolated all the way through modernism, deconstructivism, and postmodernity. The classical view could essentially be summarized in the statement "truth, wisdom, beauty." there was a correlation between these elements ... harmony, balance, detail, beauty. ... You may not have a "taste" for Mozart, but if you were to listen to it you might understand that this "truth, wisdom, beauty" philosophy of aesthetics drove the creation of music and art at the time. Beauty would ultimately be celestial and therefore, heavenly, and thus inherently true.
So many things in art and design are designed with the sense of the classic, the timeless beauty--a careful balance of line and form, but styles and tastes change. The '66 Deusenberg is not immediately appealing to Cookie and probably a number of others for whom the "taste" and the "style" of the vehicle convey something not entirely pleasing. Pick your least favorite style of cooking. If a dish could be perfectly prepared, but if your tastes do not match, then you won't like it. But if you are exposed to that style of cooking long enough, your tastes may evolve to encompass it. You may find subtleties that initially escaped you on first bite.
The Deusenberg is perhaps not to my taste either, but I can see the careful crafting of lines. There's an exaggeration of form, and elongation, that jumps out at me. It's extreme. The 1970 T-Bird is similar in a way. It's an exaggerated or extreme design. These forms have inherent messages or associations that we react to. To me, with my tastes that seek the small and contained--doing the most with the least--I pick up a message that is all about excess. Is that fair? I don't know. That's just my read. If we were to look at the aesthetics of the time we might well find that there was a trend toward excess. Anyone remember Liberace? He was part of those times and was really rather fashionable.
We've discussed cars as time machines. Every time has its fashions. Fashions reflect the ideals of the designer and the audience--it is a shared love, idea, or zeitgeist. Design communicates something--objects have form, form comes from somewhere, and it has some kind of meaning to the people of its time. Industrial design of this type must ultimately be appealing to the people who are going to buy that car. As such, we have design that communicates a particular ideal of a particular time. Now that ideal may not really play well in another era or generation--or it may be incredibly appealing.
I'm not a big fan of the message that goes along with the '70 T-Bird, but I can appreciate the care of the designer in crafting that car. To me the taste and message is over the top, but that doesn't mean it isn't a good piece of design. It just means I'm not the target audience.
What is truly great about this article, and letter, the discussions we have, and the huge range of cars we review, is that we are doing exactly what Mr. Exner described as the action of a true automotive enthusiast. We are expanding our understanding of the designs and cars of many different times. We are caring about them. In my case I've definitely had my eyes opened, and like Cookie, I have softened to the '70 T-Bird and the '66 Deusenberg.
All the car blogs and forums devoted to single marques or vehicles perfectly serve the needs of the devotee in need of support and information. New car magazines and blogs hype and track the most current examples of auto design. Car Lust draws from the most recent to the oldest, from the best-known and loved, to the most obscure and loathed. I am constantly surprised and refreshed by the offerings we consider. It makes me want to go back through all the archives and take another look. What did I miss? What new and peculiar offerings will come?
This perspective leads me to a greater openness. I guess the one thing we might want to try to include in future articles is the "sign of the times." That's kind of easy to do with the disco era, harder to do sometimes with our contemporary times or the distant past. It's worth looking at the message to better understand the times and the designs.
Chris Hafner: I have huge respect for both Exners and what they have accomplished, and I applaud Exner Jr. for his willingness to talk to us and for his thoughtful response. I was particularly interested in his insight that designing large cars is a bigger challenge than designing small cars.
I thought his I agree with much of what he says, especially in his excellent final paragraph, which is requoted in part here:
"There is good art with its inherent possession of design and there is bad art without form, just as there is the right answer and wrong answer in Mathematics or Physics. Art is only a little more subjective, but too many ignore art education and think that only their own taste is right. Too many people think that anything goes in art, and music as well."
I agree with this--in our culture we can sometimes flatten great art with mediocre art because we don't want to offend anybody's tastes. However, my first reaction is to level this paragraph directly at the Stutz. It isn't a pure design--it is a gussied-up version of a different car with discordant styling cues layered on top of each other. It very much plays to a certain time and a certain customer and is certainly not a timeless design.
Having said all that, perhaps I'm discarding one of the primary tenets of Car Lust, which is that context is everything. Cars, like people, need to be judged within their own context, and the challenge of the Stutz was to design a glitzy, glamorous, custom coachbuilder car of the 1920s within the context of the 1970s. The Stutz is that kind of car, and it successfully marries the peculiar styling excesses of the 1920s with those of the 1970s. It is certainly not to my taste, but it obviously appealed to its target audience. My mindset is not that of a wealthy 1970s socialite looking for some distinctive wheels. To each their own, and it's not the Stutz's fault that 1970s style hasn't aged particularly well. Perhaps in a few decades, our collective taste will have evolved enough that the Stutz will be considered a timeless classic.
I agree with Cookie on the Deusenberg--it is much prettier, much more purposeful. The pity with the Stutz is that it replaced the angular starkness of the other Exner revival cars with awkward add-ons. I still find the Stutz's basic shape appealing, but it's buried under layers of hopeless cliche. At least that's how it looks to my modern eyes. I respect the Stutz, I applaud the die-hard owners, but I suspect I'm just too far away from the target demographic.
That's a nice-looking example directly to the right, though.
Rob the SVX Guy: One thing I dislike about the Stutz, along with a lot of those other 'excessive' designs is that they're posers.
Sure, the exhaust was supposed to be real, but emissions got in the way. Okay?! So? One job of the designer is to follow the product along through production to make sure they don't produce some half-baked abortion between the designers' intent, the engineers' direction, and marketing feature creep or cost-cutting. It's not like emissions regulations appeared out of thin air one day, it should have been anticipated and designed accordingly. (I feel the same way about the Big Three right now.) On top of that, what purpose did those side pipes have? Were they there for any reason? What purpose did almost anything on those cars have? It was all just fake stuff glued onto an overly large, outrageous automobile.
The owners and Exner Jr. speak of taste, but to my eyes, there is more to taste than a huge price tag and the most outrageous design possible. To me, taste is more in details, more in the finesse, the little things that you appreciate over time. Not some insanely different design that screams "look at me!" but something focused, clean, and real. Fake fender vents? Lame (I'm looking at you, Buick). Fake hood scoops? Really lame (that means you Toyota Highlander!). Fake sidepipes? Ugh. I really don't care who designed the car, there's no excuse for it.
And sure, style is subjective, but I think the real problem I have with these cars is that they were a throwback to the 'good ol' days' of the 1920s and early 1930s, with today's technology. They were supposed to bring back memories of classic motoring and a driver with a scarf and maybe a sophisticated accent, but instead they just make me think of platform shoes, chest medallions, and blaxpoitation films.
You're wrapping modern internals around an outdated design language, which can be amusing, but it isn't really good design. For example, take the new Mustang, or the new Challenger. I mean, yeah, they're kinda neat, but over the long run I doubt they'll have the appeal of a car designed for today's era, with today's technology and today's style. They exist because an aging demographic has the money to finally buy what they wanted 30 years ago, and that's what sells.
Another way to put it, to those who haven't completely zoned out, is that they remind me of the Parthenon. The Parthenon looks the way it does because it was constructed just as timber buildings had been constructed, with a post and lintel construction. The thing is, the builders weren't using wood. When you change the materials, methods, and knowledge, the design should also be different.
This is why I can't find love for these cars. The design does not mesh with the technology, methods, and knowledge of the day they were built. They didn't push the envelope in any aspect of performance, they only pushed the limits of what people would find acceptable. In that respect, I feel it was a bit like the Emperor's New Clothes. A few years after the 1970s, people woke up and said, "Ugh, this stuff actually looks like garbage."
I don't hate the Stutz. I just think it's ... gross? I don't know. It's something that should be in a museum of weird cars, but not really driven. It is a high water mark of "what were they thinking?" to me. And that is definitely worth preserving. :)
David Colborne: In the defense of the Stutz, 1970s internals were probably closer to 1920s tech than they were to today's. That said--yeah, the Stutz definitely did a poor job of staying within the constraints of the regulations and technology of the day. One complaint I've seen over and over again about the new Challenger is that many of the compromises that were made in the late '60s and early '70s are compromises we don't have to make anymore--so why did Dodge make them today? It's less technologically daring and more just marketing driven--older people want yesterday's technology with a little bit of today's build refinement. (Insert cheap shot at Harleys here.)
Mochi Mochi: Cars are often about dreams and aspirations as much as functionality, performance or even taste (good or otherwise). The idea of the classic is something that has been embedded in design and only relatively recently (read some of Peter Eisenman's work) has the idea of the classic been seen as a design problem. These cars predate the thinking that perhaps working towards a classic was actually a problem. I'm not defending or attacking the Stutz. It is what it is, and it was a product of its times and the visions, dreams, and aspirations of that time. What's the point of condemning that?
While Rob provides a brilliantly savage critique, the critique is completely limited to today's culture and aesthetics. There's no historic perspective. Sure, if someone designed this car today it would either be a joke or really bad taste--but they didn't. The time in which this car was designed and built was a time of excess in design and artifice. Sequined jackets, vinyl roofs, opera lights. Condemn this car or the designer and you might as well condemn the decade, which would be silly, what's the point?
All right, you don't like the look, you don't like the message, neither do I--but it's hard to get all worked up about this. Rob is arguing this as a matter of the "poser", or the fact that a "retro" look is inherently wrong, as if there's some kind of underlying moral problem or predefined measure of what is right. OK, fine. Where does the line start and end for "poser"? Many cars inherently have some kind of artifice about them--it's called styling.
People come to cars with all kinds of views. People want to love cars, and they do. They pick the one that is most appealing to them and they love it for however long they do, then they move on. Someone likes these cars (the Stutz). They like the retro look. They don't care about the tech behind it, they just enjoy the show - the visual performance of the car is enough for them.
You can argue that someone who loves the Bugatti Veyron has a more refined and discerning aesthetic taste than someone who loves a Stutz. So now we end up with a situation in which we are comparing people and saying these people are good and right because of their taste and these other people are wrong or deficient because their tastes differ or are less refined. Is this a direction that actually has any value or positive benefit? Seems like a pointless complaint--"Why can't other people be the way I want them to be?" It's as dumb an argument as the one I've long held that says it's ethically wrong to have air-conditioned seats in an SUV. Who am I to be such a judge?
I understand the idealistic view that the world would be a better place if it were designed, engineered, and built better. I wish it were, but this is all just a designer's dream.
So it is with the Stutz. Yeah, it's a poser. It makes no sense today. You might not have even liked the people who drove it 40 years ago, but it is what it is, fake side-pipes and all. At the time a lot of people thought it was the height of cool. At the same time Europe would have looked at the US and shaken its collective head... speaking of that, they still do--even though KFC and Dunkin' Donuts have locations in Barcelona. These cars are part of the history of design in the U.S. Nothing we can do about it--the U.S. is a funny place, we love our big cars, we love our crazy excessive taste.
The reference to the Parthenon and post-and-beam construction is a good one, but is misunderstood and mis-stated. It's not about construction, it's about form. Many cars reference the Parthenon in their grilles. This has nothing to do with construction; it has everything to do with formal reference to an historic standard or seemingly non-arbitrary concept of taste. Look at the grille of a Humvee or a Jeep... you see the Parthenon. Why? Because the Parthenon is a classic of classical design. It gets picked up and used in automotive design out of tradition, cultural proclivity, and the interest in creating a new classic.
This process of creating a classic is almost always predicated on the existence of a historic touch stone ... a reference for undeniable taste. Designers design with reference to the classic when trying to make a classic. Hence the Stutz pulling a reference to classical architecture, and the new Mustang referencing the original Mustang. It's not just about a retro look. It's not just about geezers wanting to buy the car they used to have or couldn't afford at the time. It's about trying to build a classic, and the way a lot of designers go about achieving that is through historic reference. This is largely achieved through form.
I just want to say that Rob's great--I (almost) always appreciate his bold expressions of opinion. If nothing else you can count on him for a choice comment! ;)
Cookie the Dog's Owner: Wow! We've managed to go to the higher reaches of design philosophy and back again. I'd like to respond to some of Rob's comments on retro cars, but we'll save that for another time.
My closing thoughts on the Stutz: maybe it's repeated exposure, maybe it's just the sheer niceness of Mr. Exner and Mr. Milliken, but I must admit I'm mellowing out toward it. My initial negative reaction from when I first saw one at age 15 (related in the first article) has softened. It's still not my cup of motor oil. I don't think I'd want one even if I could afford it, but ... you know, if you took the side pipes off, painted it a nice British Racing Green, threw in sway bars and a stiffer set of springs and a new spool valve for the power steering . . . .
One last thing: Mr. Exner is participating in an exhibit on the Ferrari at the San Diego Automotive Museum which includes a display of designs by retired automotive designers and high school students. Mr. Exner's contribution is this design for a green (yes, green!) Ferrari roadster:
The car is a plug-in electric with AWD, making it "green" in the ecology sense. It is projected to do 0-60 in 3.5 seconds, which will make the muscle car guys green with envy and may turn the passenger green with vertigo! The SDAM exhibit runs through December 1, so if you're in the San Diego area, be sure to check it out.
The photos of the Stutz, Mercer, Duesey, and Dunham Corvorado (that thing with all the bling) came from Peter Madle's Stutz history site, the '70 T-Bird and the Parthenon are from Wikipedia, and the '62 Valiant is from allpar.com. Mr. Exner generously provided the other illustrations.
--Cookie the Dog's Owner
Chris Hafner on November 10, 2008 at 09:44 AM
Thanks to Virgil Exner Jr. for his contribution, and to Cookie the Dog's Owner for patiently putting this together.
This was an interesting conversation, and there are portions that could have come directly from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead." Specifically, the parts about the importance of creating an honest design that discards hoary historical ornamentation in favor an honest appraisal of the needs of the user and the materials being used. Rob's argument on that point (which I agree with) could come right out of Howard Roark's mouth.
Mochi Mochi on November 10, 2008 at 11:58 AM
while we're on the topic of Ayn Rand... who is John Galt? anyway :)
Rob the SVX guy on November 10, 2008 at 12:04 PM
Funny you mention that, I just finished Atlas Shrugged LAST NIGHT. At about 11pm. I read it the first time about 10 years ago, and figured I should revisit it. :)
I now outstretch my arm and wave my hand in the sign of the dollar.
Shawn on November 10, 2008 at 07:02 PM
I don't think I commented in either of the prior Stutz articles, so I'll do so here. As a child, I had this Hot Wheels Stutz Bearcat: http://i18.ebayimg.com/05/i/000/c4/7a/bed5_1.JPG
It was one of my favorite car toys, so much more outlandish than the others. I HAD to have a real one someday. Turn to today, and I think it's unbearably gaudy and gauche. Does that mean that Stutz followers/admirers are a bit...childish?
Susan on November 10, 2008 at 10:15 PM
I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don't know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.
Susan
Mochi Mochi on November 11, 2008 at 11:41 AM
Shawn: "Turn to today, and I think it's unbearably gaudy and gauche. Does that mean that Stutz followers/admirers are a bit...childish?"
hey shawn. i understand your question and where you are coming from with it. it is easy - almost too easy - to make leaps and generalizations about people based on their aesthetic tastes and refinement. but i don't think one can validly generalize about people themselves. speculation is one thing, conclusions are another.
i think my personal vision of aesthetics is pretty refined... i've had a lot of experience in the world of visual design, and the history of art and architecture. the idea that the artistic vision of a child is less valid than then that of an adult is questionable. there are many great artists who have spent their careers trying to get back to the way they painted when they were children. the idea that advancement or progress invalidates what came before is also not valid. by that argument baroque art would be less valid that expressionist art which would be less valid than contemporary art - that argument just does not make sense.
if we were to look at the baroque or the rococo with today's eyes only it would all seem completely ornate and lacking in a randian honesty. but that's not the case either.
yes we can easily make the case that a child's vision is less experienced and possibly at times less refined, but it is fresh and untainted by the "shoulds", norms, and symbols of adulthood. i'm not going to buy a stutz, i don't want one. it does not appeal to me today. i like refined simplicity. but as a child the stutz would have delighted me too. and if for some people that delight never wears off, what's wrong with that? to delight in something that appeals to an individual means happiness.
i'm sure there are people who would find my penchant for isettas ( today's picture of an isetta: http://scuderiadezzani.com/Images/N146%20BMW%20Isseta.jpg ) puzzling and childish. i don't care! i love those cars, and as far as i am concerned if you can't be in love with the isetta there's something wrong... i think Chris Hafner said it best "If you can look at that picture of the Isetta with the tiny camper behind it without smiling, then your heart is filled with coal."
some of my dearest and most intelligent and adult friends have stunned me with their "taste" in cars. upon seeing a car go by that i consider gaudy and horrible they exclaim "oh i love that - what a cool car". i can't figure this out. is there something wrong with them? i've just kept my mouth shut to keep from offending them. the honest truth is that there is no rhyme or reason to what makes people love a car. it could be anything. the fake spare tire on the rear bumper that evokes memories of a bygone era, grand-dad's old car, family, lavish styling. i don't know. it's like the car lust tag line "Interesting cars meet irrational emotion™" it's ALL completely irrational, and i'm ok with that.
ok - so now i've gotten the high road view out of my system. and now i also feel like i need to talk about compatibility and consistency. there are times when you just find that there are people who have taste that is in direct opposition to your own. for me the worst example - the example that is hardest for me to accept - is food and smells. i've had friends who lacked a good palate. they could not distinguish between things that tasted good and things that smelled or tasted nasty. i make it a point to never eat with them. i never go to restaurants they frequent. i'm glad they like what they like but there's something wrong there and they need to find people who share their taste. i'll never be happy eating in their company. if you are passionate about good food you really don't want to hang out with folks who can't tell the difference between tree bark and perfectly cooked salmon - food is to be enjoyed and that mismatch of taste will make it hard for everyone. same with cars. that's why there are clubs devoted to certain cars. i don't think porsche owners and stutz owners are going to find a lot of commonality in taste, or enjoy a joint porsche/stutz car show. subcultures serve good purposes.
Cookie the Dog's Owner on November 11, 2008 at 12:09 PM
Mochi:
What you say about compatible tastes has a lot of merit. I would add only that it is possible to appreciate someone else's appreciation without necessarily sharing their passion. I'm no fan of "tri-five" (or "shoebox") Chevrolets. Go to the "cruise-in" at Dairy Queen in mid-summer, and a good quarter to a third of what's there will be '57 Chevys of one sort or another. I don't care for the cars themselves, but I can appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into restoring and maintaining them. These cars make their owners, and the people around them, happy, and I can certainly relate to that. My extended conversation with Jim Milliken was another example. He owns five Stutzes, which is five more than I'd ever care to--and the enjoyment he gets out of them is remarkable. If I saw him at a car show, I expect I'd have a marvelous time.
Mochi Mochi on November 11, 2008 at 12:32 PM
completely agree cookie. like you, there are cars i've been able to connect over that are completely outside my preferences, but i can appreciate other's appreciation of them. i can appreciate what makes those cars great, even if i'm not drawn to them. i'm not a passionate about those cars, but i am passionate about cars. there's always common ground if you look for it.
That Car Guy on November 11, 2008 at 01:33 PM
That green Ferrari reminds me very much of "The Homer".
rob the SVX Guy on November 11, 2008 at 05:23 PM
Mochi, while your points on art are very true, in terms of later styles not invalidating what came before them, I think you're forgetting something. Car design is not art, it is DESIGN. Design may use the principles of art, but ultimately it has a purpose other than mere decoration. Production, longevity, usability, safety, performance, all play a part, in addition to just the style. And that is why I can't find much love for this car, other than my love of it being unusual. The style does not match up with the rest of the car's attributes. It used classic automobile styling what is essentially a 1970s luxo-barge, and to my eyes (brain), it doesn't work well together. To me, it looks like a fat, stupid slob dressed in a tuxedo. The 'traditional' styling attempts to cover up the shortcomings of the rest of the person/car.
Also, I'd like to point out that when I was referencing the parthenon I was not referencing the shapes themselves, but how the materials and methods changed, but the design didn't. The parthenon is a great example of using (then) new materials in the same way people used older materials, in that case being wood. Post and lintel construction is found everywhere wood is found, and when switching to a new material with new properties, you're left open with at multitude of new ways of building something.... but in the case of the parthenon, they used the exact same method.
Cheers!
- Rob
...m... on November 12, 2008 at 12:02 AM
...look at gothic cathedrals' flying-buttressed catenary arches to see what stone can do when treated as stone: great expanses of light and air and sweeping vaults, an honest design language for the materials and technology of the time...
...certainly there's something to be said for the appreciation of fashion within its historical context, but truly timeless design isn't about fashion, it's about function and finding honest expression within its vocabulary...
...m... on November 12, 2008 at 12:07 AM
edit to add: ...iconography, conversely, is a palimpsest of culturally-relative expression overlaid on top of form, nothing more and nothing less...
Mochi Mochi on November 12, 2008 at 04:15 PM
great comments from rob and ..m.. (nice to have you on board)
first on art and design. this is one of those subjects that has no clean definition. partly a semantic argument, partly a issue of practicality. one can say that there is a continuum of possibilities that take one through a spectrum of pure art, to design, to pure engineering. but there are processes that are common to all along the spectrum. in a deleuzian framework there's smoothness between these points on the spectrum rather than a stratified difference. simply put where do you draw the line, how firmly is the line drawn, and how wide is that line, what are the tolerances for semantic difference. architecture constantly struggles with this question of art versus design. the simple way of shortcutting the conversation is to say that design is an "applied art". engineering for those who really get it is also an applied art with a heavier emphasis on technology. the salient over-riding difference that distinguishes design from art is that design more often than not is oriented toward problem solving in a commercial setting. that's a requirement of design that is not as frequently applicable to pure art - though some art works in that condition too.
styling is an art - applied art. automotive design and industrial design are applied arts and use and use the tools of art. how does this work? they are all involved in representation and the resolution of form overlaid on structure and function. in the history of design it is widely acknowledged that design&art prior to the renaissance were what Peter Eisenmann described as being "as is" - they were what they were and used symbols to convey meaning. from the renaissance along with the invention of perspective drawing art and design became about "representation", and the definition of "the classic" - the classic being a non-ambiguous standard of design, a touch stone of "objective" excellence. this focus on an objective standard and representation changed the way design and art have been done ever since and perspective actually changed the cognitive experience and development of the western world.
the modernist movement of design declared that form followed function. but if we look at even the most spare and minimalist functionalist designs we still see decisions made that are based on more than just materials or the practicalities of function. there is ornamentation in minimalist design, it is just a lot more subtle than in the baroque.
to see the world of design and art as simply defined as completely separate systems is to miss a lot. that blunt force semantically based separation really has huge holes, and the more you investigate and actually try to build a definition the more that all falls apart. most of these movements, functionalism, structuralism, modernism, all started with some kind of manifesto, a reaction to the standards of the time. with time each of these manifestos, their resultant -isms, and their shining paths, have faded, caused problems, developed philosophic holes, and been over written as they have ceased to be completely relevant or even true. Modernism and the international design movement heralded great change and social improvements, it was an idealistic manifesto of change that ultimately resulted in a vast number of failed social experiments based on the concept that "good design could improve all of society's ailments".
i am all for the "honesty of materials" movement. i love putting the structure first and letting the form follow the functions that need service. but any time a stylist describes the line of a fender, any time the designer manages space, any time the engineer balances weight and strength, representation is used and art is born. i see art in the casting of an engine block and the curve of a side panel.
the honesty of materials argument has come and gone and will do so endlessly. it is a beautiful ideal. and it is at times a failed approach to design. to me it feels right. but that does not mean it is a standard by which all other approaches must be judged. and you can never really ever have a completely "honest" design as long as aesthetics are involved, because aesthetics are fundamentally subjective.
visual design ALWAYS has artifice. how heavy and deep is that artifice? it varies. each person must decide where they are happy. for some the stutz with all its deep artifice is a creation that they love. others hate it.
my aesthetic preferences lie in the area of minimalism, structuralism, functionalism. hence my rides, and most of the work i have created in my design practice. i really don't enjoy thick artifice. but stutz owners clearly do and we can't lay claim to any objective rectitude or some kind of moral high ground to design.
in the end you like it, or you don't. i'm guessing that not too many people are neutral about these cars.
...m... on November 12, 2008 at 05:23 PM
...honest forms and materials have one objective criteria on their end of the design spectrum which iconography doesn't share, though: they withstand the scrutiny of occam's razor...admittedly, that's a contemporary standard of judgement, and by other standards one could just as readily argue that iconographic forms and materials communicate an expressive vocabulary of which pure design finds itself mute...
...cogent assessment, mochi...
Rob the SVX guy on November 12, 2008 at 05:33 PM
Eh.... you fellas sure use big words.
Mochi Mochi on November 12, 2008 at 09:12 PM
pithy and poetic ..m.. iconographic forms really are the essence of the stuz. how well or poorly one thinks they are resolved is open to debate. rob clearly has expressed his opinion as have the owners of the stutz.
glad you introduced occam's razor into this conversation. that is my personal standard for evaluation. i respect that others use a different criteria... stutz owners for example. to me the razor is an excellent guide in the design process. lacking any other consideration or touch point, it provides the designer with a level of comfort in decision making and closure on a design. it appears to provide a kind of objective, rational, and non-arbitrary resolution. as simple as it can be but no simpler than it must be. whether this is an illusion or a truth can be debated, but it has worked, and it works still.
ornament has come and gone. as you say iconographic forms. the stutz is a collection of these icons, and as we know icons are read, they are part of a cultural language or "expressive vocabulary". depending on your culture or subculture you will interpret and react to that vocabulary in different ways. Rob reacts badly to the stutz message. i don't personally find connection with its message. but within the bounds of a particular time and culture, the expression found favor. historically speaking these are the time capsules of a cultural ideal.
if i apply occam's razor to the cultural ideals behind the stutz - or the stutz itself - i will be disappointed. as a designer with spare sensibilities founded on honestly of forms and materials i'd be at a complete loss. my response would be idealistic and much like that of Howard Roark. knowing rob, as i do... i'm sure his would be the same.
there is solace and sensibility in "honest forms and materials". that is a touch stone by which quality is often measured. as much as i once would have argued against the proposition, ornament has a place in society and culture. the rococo cartouche mediated the relationship of the art work to the space and the building, and overcame the restrictions of the frame. the ultimate failing of the rococo and the death of the ornament came when the ornament overtook function and structure - becoming and end in and of itself. as designers we often revile the obvious ornament for just this reason. but we often also tend to forget that "details" are often ornaments disguised in a modernist aesthetic.
...m... on November 14, 2008 at 10:36 PM
...i suspect we share the same profession, mochi...