I assign a certain amount of art value to almost everything in my life, especially bikes and bike parts.
A fine example is the Fiorelli track frameset currently for sale on eBay, item #1118161353:
Look at the first picture, showing the bike from the front... the combination of curves at the fork crown creates a magnificent array of highlights, shadows, and depth. Chrome headlugs frame the headbadge... it's identity powerfully reinforced by the bold vertical of the seattube lettering behind it.
For a long time I would have thought "Wow, that looks really Cool!" without knowing exactly why.
I remember seeing my first Campy GS chrome rear derailleur "Wow, that looks really Cool." Now I can say it looks "cool" because of it's relationship to the later NR aluminum derailleur, and the contemporary Simplex and Huret units, because of the unfamiliar chrome finish, the fading letters of the worn die, the geometry from another era.
I never look at a departmentstore bike and think "Wow, what a great fork crown". But I often think "That Hetchins has the loveliest decals/headlugs/chainstays/color scheme I've ever seen". For me, that simple difference makes it art.
I decorate my home with vintage advertisements old machinery parts, lamps with hinges and struts and buttresses. My personal experience with this eclectic collection is what gives it art value... that's what makes it art.
Quality of Craftsmanship is also a major art value. I saved an old set of OD mics from our scrap bin, just because someone had designed, cut, drilled, finished, and USED them from 1931 until last year. He made them for measuring large diameter rolls... just a tool, but a tool which reflected all of his pride of ability, cleverness of design, and knowledge of material properties. In my home, they earn a place as relics. 100 points for the hands that created them.
I have never seen a Confente, but when I do, any respect I pay to it is a reflection of whom I am and what I value. Any respect I pay to the frame must reflect on Mario as well.
Plans are in motion to remove the roof from the downtown streets of my hometown, eliminating the horrible "Mall" they built in 1970, exposing the old building facades, painted signs, upstairs windows, and outlines of now-defunct business. People will go downtown just to look at these relics, unfamiliar now, and somehow fascinating after their long absence. They'll study the lines, compare notes, reflect on their childhood, contemplate the constant acceleration of time. There is art there.
I look at an old bike, with it's scratches and chips, faded outlines of absent decals, metal surfaces polished smooth by the passage of miles and years... There is art there as well. It isn't always "beautiful", but it is has value.
The art I find is only of value to me. No one else's opinions can add to it, nor can their opinions detract from it.
So, if you want to call it art, call it art... I'll understand entirely, and so will almost everyone else on this list.
Aldo Ross