Back to the Future(ism)

The other day I wrote about Skycycle, an elevated bicycle highway proposed for London.

When I looked at the artist's rendition of it, I couldn't help but to think about Futurism, which began in Italy early in the twentieth century.  Artists, designers, architects, musicians writers and even fashion designers and gourmet chefs wanted to "free" Italy from the "shackles" of its history.  

The chefs and food critics associated with the movement even wanted to convert Italians from eating pasta to eating rice!  

The visions of the future presented by creative people associated with the movement sometimes look like episodes of The Jetsons--which is especially striking when you consider motion pictures were just past their naissance and television was about half a century in the future.

What ruined it for a lot of people, though, is that Benito Mussolini embraced it as part of his vision of reforming "a nation of illiterate peasants, manual labors, waiters, barbers and tourist guides".  Also, a paralell movement developed in Russia (and in the nascent Soviet Union). Thus, futurism would be bound, in many people's minds, with fascism or other kinds of totalitarianism.

The irony is that when Futurism was embraced--admittedly, by relatively few--in the United States, the resulting designs were lavish--almost a post-modern baroque, if you will.

This "Spacelander" bike was designed by Benjamin G. Bowden and made by Bomard Industires during the early 1960's.  Only 500 or so were ever sold; now they are sought by collectors.

Does Size Matter?

Recently, I met a seminarian who used to work in the fashion industry.  (Now there's a journey!)  She recounted dressing Christy Turlington for a show:   "Her arms were so thin I thought I'd snap them off!", she recounted.

We all know that most bicycle racers are thin.  Jan Ullrich, who won the 1997 Tour de France and might've won in 2001 had he not crashed, was often criticised for his weight. Even so, he was fitter and trimmer than 99 percent of people in the industrialised world.

Believe it or not, back in the 1890's, some fans as well as trainers believed "bigger is better" in cycling.  The rationale seemed to be that bigger men had more muscle and more weight to propel it, which would make them more powerful cyclists.  

There was even a cyclist who went only by the name of "Grimes" who carried  257 kilograms (567 pounds) on his 183 cm (6 foot) frame.  His chest measured  157 cm (62 inches) in circumference; perhaps that gave him more lung capacity.

Here he is, on a bike specially designed for him:

This illustration accompanied an article called "Grotesque Forms of Cycles" in the 30 December 1899 issue of Scientific American.  Check it out for illustrations of other bike that live up to the title's claim.

Cycles In The Sky

I took a walk on the High Line (Is that the title of a Lou Reed song?) shortly after it opened.  I enjoyed its green space and overall attractiveness.  But I also had a sinking feeling in my stomach.  About two years later, I realized why:  Upon returning about two years later, it had become, essentially, an elevated version of Times Square with more trees and more expensive lattes. It became an "it" destination for tourists to the Big Apple in a way that the Viaduc des Arts, after which it was modeled, never did in Paris. 

Now, that all might be unrelated to what I am about to discuss, save for the fact that a proposed bicycle highway made me think about the High Line.

No less than Sir Norman Foster, Britain's most prolific architect (and a passionate cyclist) backs a "Skycycle" thoroughfare that would allow two-wheeled commuters and tourists to whisk into, out of and through Central London.  The elevated lanes would be built above existing railroad tracks so that buildings and other structures would not have to be demolished.

On one hand, I like the idea.  One thing I actually liked about riding in the Five Borough Bike Tour, as well as other organized rides, was the opportunity to ride on elevated expressways (and the lower deck of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge) that were closed to automobile traffic.  Although I missed the street-level contact I'd normally experience in riding through some Brooklyn neighborhoods I know well, I enjoyed the views of the harbor and waterfront.

Some might argue that building an elevated bicycle highway might entice people who are intimidated by traffic into riding to work.  That may well be true, if the increase in the number of cyclists following the construction (or, in some cases, segregation) of bike lanes on New York City streets is any indication.  However, as Mark Ames points out in the Sustainable Cities Collective blog, a bicycle highway is probably unnecessary.  He argues that there is plenty of room for cyclists and pedestrians on London Streets, but not for cars.  Therefore, he says, the solution is to limit the number of cars in the central city, which London does through a "congestion surcharge."

Mike Bloomberg floated the idea of such a levy for Manhattan below 60th Street.  It was about as popular as the notion of banning bagels.  The loudest objections came from family-owned construction companies and the like that are based in the far reaches of the outer boroughs but do much of their business in Midtown and Downtown. 

I hope that our current Mayor, Bill de Blasio revisits the idea.  Perhaps he will if he's elected to a second term.  From what I've seen, he is smart enough to realize that if it's simply not possible to squeeze more cars and trucks into Manhattan right now, we might be near that point.  I don't think he'd want to be remembered as the mayor who was in office when Manhattan froze in a state of permanent gridlock.

Then, about all anyone will be able to do is to sip those $15 lattes on the High Line.