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Life imitates art – or is it the other way round? If “that flower pot thing” above is the subject of genuine disbelief in dinner party conversations, then surely “the challenger” below is worthy of our aesthetic attention? If the dinner party consensus is that the pylon for the new Gungahlin Drive Extension Bridge over Belconnen Way “looks better” than the “flower pot”, then what does that tell us about the quality of decision-making which leads to the installation of public art works on the streets of Canberra? Read on…

If, like me, you wonder about the art status of such things, in Canberra, it’s art once it’s been launched by the Chief Minister. Skip the guff, check the final line in the plaque below. And all the other plaques around town. Unlike London, we specialise in a scattergun approach, where we set minor works free on every street corner. But each new artwork has to be officially set adrift… This piece of street decor was personally selected by the Chief Minister, and launched as marker for the nonexistent Latin American Quarter! Thus we take extra pleasure when we encounter unofficial readymades like this Pylon above, which has no political or cultural stigma to carry.

P.S. Dear Minister for the Arts and Heritage. Stop work on the bridge! Iconophilia wishes to nominate The Pylon for Instant Heritage Status.

.. obviously designed by a graduate of the John Cleese School of Funny Exhaust Pipes. Or sent by some deity specifically to upset The Iconophile. Follow the thread here and here.

Eeek! The quiet and leafy suburbs of Adelaide are easily shocked: in this instance by this chunky 1958 Ford Edsel Citation convertible. The Edsel was produced between 1957 and 1960, and was by all accounts a bit of a flop. Its styling was judged to deliver less than it promised – and the entirely new production line intended to replace the Lincoln in the race against GM misjudged the market entirely. The addition of a dramatic vertical grill to an otherwise conventional lumpy body shape was insufficient to sustain production numbers, and the brand died. Now they’re rare. And especially in original unrestored condition like this example.

Why are collectors attracted to the last of the breed, to lemons, or to examples of 20th century design which disprove the ideology of modernity’s inexorable progress? It’s not just a matter of rarity, but also some sense of being just outside the norm, of (at last) making fun of another generation’s questionable taste and judgement. Thus this great shiny lump of steel, wide enough to seat three abreast, with huge V8 motor, which handles like the Queen Mary, even with enough gadgets to aspire to technological progress, inspires a special appreciation of conspicuous consumption and an aesthetic of excess among baby boomers.

The Ford Edsel is often cited by design historians as the archetypal instance of designers marketeers stylists getting it wrong. The timing was terrible, when the launch coincided with the onset of the 1957 recesssion. Established brands were being closed down in every direction. By the time it hit the market, there was no niche for the Edsel to fill, and so it died, at a reputed cost of $40m. Wiki claims the name itself may have contributed to its demise: “…in honor of Edsel Ford, former company president and son of Henry Ford. Marketing surveys later found the name was thought to sound like the name of a tractor (Edson) and therefore was unpopular with the public. Moreover, several consumer studies showed that people associated the name “Edsel” with “weasel” and “dead cell” (dead battery), drawing further unattractive comparisons.”

But of course we should treasure the remaining examples – especially those which have not been ruined by restoration! They teach us where we’ve been, and show us where not to go. Iconophilia thanks Tony and Olive for the photo-essay.

Iconophilia thanks Jan Luedert for these recent photographs of a 1953 Buick being reconstructed in downtown Havana. Jan writes: “the pictures where taken near Trinidad the UN World Heritage City. The shop was set up by two Cubans as a private enterprise. The interesting thing about these vehicles is the way that it represents “true sustainability” as these cars are rebuilt, recycled and always find their way back to the road. What they also do at the shop is install a more modern diesel engine so the while the chassis is old style 50s the engines are usually new and often diesel. It is incredible to watch how without a fair degree of ingenuity and with how few resources a car that would rust away in our world finds its way back to the road. Cars are mostly communal in Cuba and one hardly ever finds a car with less than five people in them.”

More paint than metal, methinks. For more background, read this piece by Tom Miller from the NYT.

But who among you doesn’t feel just a little bit guilty that we in the outside world take such perverse pleasure in observing the fact that Fidel’s Revolution has subjected his country to this technological time-warp? How pictureque is it (still) that Cuban citizens are forced to live out the historical antipathy to the U.S.A. by driving around in these decaying icons of the excesses of the decade of the 1950s? Contradictions abound in such circumstances. For example, what are we to make of this 1948 Cadillac Fleetwood snapped by The Iconophile in the back streets of Tehran in 2007? If it looks somewhat abandoned, consider (a) how difficult it would be to get spare parts these days, and (b) how much more politically incorrect it would be on the streets of Tehran than Havana?

You’ll think I’ve got a thing about automotive orifices. But, post Edsel, it’s still happening! There’s a very bad case of overdesign in The Iconophile’s own carpark… Or does this little Civic produce triangular CO2?

Iconophilia suggests: surely some local Wittgenstein afficionado must be the author of this spectacularly austere house in Watson Rise in Canberra?