>...The Joe
> Starcks of this world never seem to get it that
> there is no charm in
> perfection. Certainly, one can appreciate his
> pain-staking attention to
> detail and if you're a bit anal about these things
> then that's no doubt what
> will turn you on.
Bruce, "Anal" is not synonomous with "perfection." "Anal is derisive. It connotes a disorder. It pathologizes what is, in fact, a virtue. Perfectionism is a virtue. It's creative; it's procreative. It conserves; it preserves. It ensures; it endures. It protects. It's all that and more. It is a learned, guiding pursuit. Perfectionism reigns supreme in Science, Art and Craft. It's been around since, at least, gee whiz, the beginning of civilization.
>I'm glad to say that I'm one of
> those he denigrates as
> misguided for thinking that it's nice to see the
> hand or file of an artisan
> in his work.
As Curt Goodrich stated, "...a trained eye can see file use even with the lack of file marks."
> His comment that "File marks are marks of laziness
> and a measure of the
> maker's craftsmanship integrity" is an insult to
> generations of builders.
And a deserved insult it is, Bruce. A comment I made with some other comments of mine that you called "a lot of pompous crap."
Here's some REAL pomposity from David Cooper:
"Hi Dennis(Young), Thanks for your remarks about understanding the context and historical evolution of craftsmanship. I think you are correct in your insight that we live in a time that allows, and sometimes even demands, a higher level of finish from craftsmen than was possible in earlier times."
And here's the original pomposity from Dennis Young that Cooper and you, Robbins, agreed with:
"...You are talking about a different era of bicycle making when those Masis had the remnants of file work on them. People had a different mind about what they were doing then, and the expectations of the customers were different as well. Not that I would suggest it, but thinking otherwise suggests a lack of understanding of bicycle history, and aesthetics evolution."
Young and Cooper, with their stock phrasings, are swimming in the clouds. Looky here, for how long have people, from all cultures and continents, for the past hundreds and thousands of years, been makin' things? Some old stuff is in museum buildings, some old stuff is in homes; some old stuff is the buildings and the homes. The stuff's everywhere, inside and out. How 'bout just the last century or half-century, in Europe and the U.S.? A sense of quality and checkin' for flaws is instinctual. Let's take a very, very brief tour of things made: If we all went into a shop and I saw a box, a thing to hold things, and I liked it because of the material or the design or whatever, I'd say "I like this, and you see this, this and this, some may consider them flaws but they don't bother me, and besides, they're away from the good parts." (It's a $50 box.) But if the lid came down uneven, it'd be a problem, and I'd have to decide if I could fix it or not. My sister made a little clay rocker chair many years ago. In one sense it looks hand-made by a child, flaws and all, but in another sense, because it has a sort of haunting character about it, it looks as if it coulda been make intentionally that way, like by Georgia O'Keefe maybe. I made a decorative box with two drawers 30 years ago that hangs on my parent's wall; it's not perfect(it's pretty good though!), but it's very charming. The Brookly Bridge is very charming too, but it's also a perfect work of art. If my tailor makes me a suit with a too-tight armhole, or even just a noticeably crooked seam elsewhere: not charming. A panel on an automobile a bit off?: not charming. Dentists are craftspeople.
"Hey Doc, it's been a few weeks and that filling feels a bit rough against my tongue."
"Joe, let me show you my rug with the knot that looks like a flaw."
"Huh?"
"OK, let me try this Joe, this is a story about Wabi-Sabi..."
"Huh? My tooth..."
The dental assistant whispers, "Now Joe, who are you to judge the Doctor? Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."
"Now Joe, You don't know it yet, but I've given you the gift of contemplation. Live and love. Life is short. That's a good man. Sayonara and Ta Ta..."
OK now, let's go back to an awareness of things made, throughout history, throughout the last century, throughout the last half-century, a historical awareness of the transactions between buyers and sellers of things made, transactions guided by an eye for quality by the buyer, and hopefully, by the seller. Against this whole backdrop of the history of industrial arts, especially the last half-century, somehow makers of bicycle frames in the 60s, 70s, even the 80s, had been kept in the dark about the way things ought to be made? During the three decades in the century in which we listees have lived shoddy workmanship on relatively expensive bicycle frames is to be excused? There is no excuse. I'm not at all applying perfectionist custom-framebuider standards to these frames. All of these frames I'm thinking of, certainly those mentioned in this thread and many other makes, could have been made so much better with just a little extra effort. The maker's chose not to. These maker's claims only weakly carried through to the frames made. They rapped "Old-World craftsmanship and tradition" and "Made as perfect as possible under the exacting eye of the Maestro" and other pompous "Maestro" crap like that and yet on too many of these frames there's little evidence of a "Maestro"; there's little evidence of mastery of metalwork. THE ERA OF FLIM-FLAMMERY. There's your historical context. I speak from solid ground, from experience, not from castles in the clouds, not from speculation. Is THE ERA over? Probably not. You can always glom onto the culture of a frame's origin of manufacture, slice it and dice it, subvert it and pervert it, and these days, sneak a nice eastern philosophy or two in, work yer blather up to a lather.
>...In my opinion, Joe Starck's work is sterile
> and soul-less
In a sense, there really isn't anything completely called "Joe Starck's work." But I'll touch on it a bit; I'll say a few words about was is my "work."
I did 20 years total of framebuilding work for Trek('79-'82), Masi('84-'90), Dave Moulton(at two different periods in the mid-eighties totaling about a year or so), Bill Holland('91-'98), and my last four years as a framebuilder making Rivendells('98-'02), as well as some Hollands during these last four years. And then there's all the repairs and modifications over these two decades. So Bruce, are you dissing me or the companies I worked for? I made some very nice lugged and fillet-brazed frames for Holland, as well as fillet-brazed tandems with fully internal brake and cable guides, guides that were well planned and executed with nary a rattle and smooth as silk. And I'm proud of the Rivendells I made. For Rivendell and Holland, I wasn't at liberty to put the hours into a frame necessary to do some of the lug carvings listees have seen from some of the fancier builders. I wasn't giving my time away and neither were my employers. The one ulta-refined Nervex-lugged 753 frame I built for Holland; I'm sure he lost money on it. I did some fancy stuff for Rivendell, but often it was, "Put an extra $100 or $200 worth into this one." And so the frame got what I got, but 9 out of 10 got more than I got. I couple I'd like to do over. But with a lug that already begins ultra-fancy, it's a challenge in itself to add to it. Some of the extras on Rivendells I did, for the money, were the best solution; I added bits of me to Riv's that resulted in some mighty fine gestalts. Fanciness aside, my work is evident of perfectionism, and I'm proud of it. Of course, I've had my fair share of screw-ups, and I've had problems that weren't my fault. I often think it'd be a kick to swap screw-up stories with some framebuilders that I might be in harmony with. Somethimes a framebuilder is judged unfairly by some who've only seen the "oops!" Methods I've used in the past I no longer use. I evolved by association and wit and Holland and Rivendell sure as hell got my best. I think my whole body of work, the depth and breadth of it, is impressive. I don't feel my work is "sterile and soul-less;" it's alive and as soul-full as can be. This is why: When a perfectionist makes a custom frame, he has to be at full attention; a mis-measurement here or there and he's screwed. Do you know how painful and expensive it is to realize you've made just one error? And so the builder has to be "on" frame after frame after frame. At any stage in the process, especially double and triple-checking the plans, cutting tubes, brazing, inspecting and finishing, my whole being is in a moment without time. Brazing can be a kick sometimes. I've done so much of it that often I can begin a lug, get deep into thought about something, and finish the lug without seemingly having to have used one brain cell during the brazing process. Did I just braze that lug? On to the next lug/thought. When I'm finishing a frame, I'm both working on it and admiring it. I've made frames to the best of my ability, and you know, I didn't do it for myself; I did it for the frames. Where is my work now?
And when I inspect another builder's work from all angles, preferably in bare metal, when I take it all in, if that frame hits a certain mark of perfection, I'm moved -- A chill goes up my spine -- That's sorta like one soul saluting another.
Joe Starck, masidon, wi