Signals, Philosophy and Italian Style

She'll be turning shortly.

In Praise of the Bicycle - A little cyclophilosophy in a book by Marc Augé. Available in French.

"This ode to the bicycle passes three moments: the myth, the epic poem and utopia. The bicycle has a mythical dimension which is at the same time individual and collective. The bicycle, after taking some blows, has returned due to city policy and its image is the object of a renewal of enthusiasm

One can begin to dream and trace the large features of the utopian city of tomorrow when public transport and the bicycle would be the only means of transport and where peace, equality and clean air would reign after the collapse of the oil tycoons. One can dream of a world where the requirements of cyclists dictate political action.

The bicycle teaches us to compose with time and space. It makes us rediscover the principle of reality in a world invaded by fiction and images. Cycling is humanism and it again opens the door to the dream of the future."

Classic Italian Cyclostyle
We can't resist a little plug for L'Eroica, a classic and classy old school Italian affair that celebrates the days gone by when bicycle racers were stylish gentlemen who rode grueling routes and stopped for an espresso and a cognac en route. A far cry from today's lycra louts.

Racing on classic bikes and in classic cycling clothes, L'Eroica is a cyclotouristic rally that has been around since 1997. In short, it's "For bicycle fanatics. For red wine fanatics. For breathtaking panoramas fanatics." l'Eroica. 05 ottobre 2008 in Chianti. Andiamo.

Movement Metropolis

A city is movement. This movement is caused solely by the inhabitants of the city. A city is people moving.

In the country it is the quiet scenes that appeal. A landscape stretching away with only a grazing cow or drifting clouds or crashing waves to suggest that things are alive.

In a metropolis we are all part of an organic symphony of motion. We all contribute to it and we all regard others contributing to it.

It is in cities that a society is propelled forward by the people who live there. The foundations of the future are laid down in cities and the rest of the nation plays an eternal game of catch up. What appeals to me the most about Copenhagen is that the core melody of our symphony is provided by the bicycle. Cars rumble past in constant, linear paths with their occupants hidden from view. The melody is staccatto and repetitive and not a little dull.

Copenhageners on bicycles are clearly visible to everyone, especially to each other, and their melody is much more symphonic. There is human energy on display. There are visible faces and assorted postures to regard. As homo sapiens we search for recognisable signals from faces and body language. A long line of cars gives us little we can identify with. Psychology has taught us that we humans despise creatures like spiders and insects because we cannot identify with them because they lack a human face, whereas we love dogs and monkeys and other creatures with faces resembling our own.

[perhaps that is why the front end of cars are designed to have big, round headlight eyes and a mouth-like bumper?]

Cycling in itself is movement. Legs swirling around, heads turning, arms signalling, bodies hopping on and off while still rolling. All appealing and recognisable to the human eye. A flirtacious smile, a flash of leg, gesticulation during a conversation at a red light. We can associate with it.

Cars are fine. They aren't going anywhere and they shouldn't. Wishing for the death of the automobile is a ridiculous pipe dream. A vast reduction of cars on the roads and a massive increase of cyclists - with all the health and societal benefits involved - is, however, a splendid goal.

Transforming cities into symphonic, melodic, urban landscapes filled with people in motion, in movement, in concerto is an appealing thought. This is what I mean when I talk of Copenhagenizing the Planet.

There are many reasons why I love Copenhagen. The most important must surely be that my fellow citizens surround me and I can watch them move. Each an integral part of the city. Each a visible moving part in the organic spectacle of this metropolis, not covered by a hood or encased in steel, but rather brilliantly exposed. Like taking the back cover off a old, ticking pocket watch and seeing the finely crafted parts all contributing to keeping track of time.

As Johannes V. Jensen wrote of Copenhagen cyclists in his 1936 novel 'Gudrun', "If one is bumped by a car, the whole school is bumped. It's a nerve one has in the elbow, a flock function, which Copenhageners have learned so well that it is second nature."

Now we have safe, separted bike lanes of course but the school of fish analogy still applies.

And while I often revel in this populous symphony there are, rest assured, ample opportunities for solitary moments. A fish can leave the school and swim solo if it wishes.

Photo by Jackson Owen on Flickr.

The Textural Effect

In the middle distance a cyclist puts on her Danefæ rain jacket. On the right, a chap struggles to get his jacket on before the rain increases and/or the lights change. On the left, a Copenhagener quite unaffected by it all. Looking casual and lovely and ready to pedal away on green.

As you may have noticed I happen to take photos of my fellow Copenhageners on or next to their bicycles. Quite a few, actually. A few of them end up on this blog.

Naturally, I like each photo that makes it to this blog or to my Flickr photostream. I'm a photographer, after all. Occasionally, however, I will present photos that are most interesting in a journalistic persepective - showing people what a bicycling life is like in Copenhagen. Photos that won't make the cut in an exhibition on the subject but which are valid for telling this ongoing visual story.

Occasionally I am lucky enough to take a photo that thrills me personally. There is rarely a specific reason for it. It just speaks to me, the viewer, in a specific, personal tone. The photo above, taken last week, is one of these rare photos for me.

Another photo that I can't seem to forget.
In my Danish daily newspaper of choice, Politiken, the Photo Editor Per Folkver has a weekly column about photography. I translated a bit of his musings from yesterday:

"What is the textural effect in a flat photograph? Is it that you sense the elasticity of the skin as though the person was standing in front of you? That you feel the water's cool blueness as though you were submerged in it? Or isn't it really that the person in the photograph radiates closeness and prescence to such a degree that the photograph becomes more than merely a photograph of a person?

Is the textural effect in a photograph when the photograph's own form erases itself as form and applies its own message and story? In other words, becoming invisible as a photograph but present as an assertion.

A photograph can't, of course, become invisible - then it isn't a photograph. But when you see a photo that you like, you shouldn't think "Wow! That's a lovely photograph!" - you should think "Wow! Is there ever a lot of energy in those people!" - or whatever the subject matter happens to be."

Another favourite.
Sometimes you dear readers will comment on a photo and say that it is your favourite so far, or something like that. I am more often than not surprised by these choices, but as long as something tickles you in a photograph, I'm thrilled to death.

Feel free to comment on which photographs, so far, you remember above all others. I'd love to hear about it.