I decided to ring in the new year with a bit of an experiment.  Click on the image above to see the twenty steps for this McLaren — you may need some orange gouache 

Fast Company (approx 21 min B&W/Color)

This re-cap of the 1973 Grand Prix campaign shares many traits with another documentary we’ve reviewed, The Quick and the Dead. At 21 minutes long, Fast Company is obviously more compact and straight forward, but it does include some interesting bits that few will have seen before…

At Monza, for example, an impromptu foot race is held around the circuit.  Drivers, team members and others compete for the bragging rights.  We’re treated to a humorous shot of Graham Hill, out of breath.  The winner?  A very lean Frank Williams, sporting the Iso-Marlboro colors on his shirt.  37 years later, this image is somewhat tragic, seeing as Williams has been confined to a wheelchair since 1986.

Fast Company also captures the organic, almost free-balling nature of Formula One in 1973.  Races were started with a flag back then, and it was typical for the drivers to creep up to the line in anticipation.  It makes today’s starting procedures look anal retentive by comparison.  In the early 1970s, timing and scoring was also less sophisticated. So there was a much higher potential for confusion to set in under extreme circumstances.  Case in point:  The Canadian Grand Prix at Mosport.  A collision forced the first-ever use of the safety car in Formula One, which failed to pick up the leader of the race.  Because of this error, some drivers were able to gain almost a lap on the field!  Even after the race was over, no one was sure who had actually won.  At one point, Howden Ganley was congratulated on his victory.  Then, Fittipaldi was congratulated.  Finally, the confusion subsided, and Peter Revson was declared the official winner; the last American-born driver to win a Grand Prix.

And there is, of course, an acknowledgment of the risks involved in trying to be the fastest.  As with The Quick and the Dead, this is accomplished by showing the brutal price one can pay for a miscue.  But the narrator, who we’ve heard in other F1 re-caps like The Shape of Things to Come and Car Wars, adds this well-crafted description: “Somewhere on the other side of 180 miles per hour, there is a limit beyond which a Formula One Grand Prix driver cannot safely go.  The limit, both human and mechanical, is invisible.  There is no gauge to warn the driver that he is approaching the frontier of his skills and the outer capability of his tightly-tuned machine.  To drive too far under the limit is to lose the race.  To drive above it confronts disaster.  A champion must drive exactly on the edge of that limit.  Few men in the history of this sport have been able to find that edge.”

A few weeks ago, we featured formfreu.de as our Web of the Week.  This blog has generated quite a buzz in design circles, most notably for its amazing photos and great attention to detail.  Formfreu is the brainchild of German designers Thomas Sälzle and Markus Haub.  They recently took a quick time out to talk to Car Design Fetish about their process, their vision, and what drives them as designers…

CDF:  Tell us a bit about your backgrounds.  Where are you from, and where did you go to school?

Markus Haub: I am from Mainz, near Frankfurt. I studied Transportation Design with Thomas at the University of Applied Sciences in Pforzheim. That‘s where we met back in 1993. Thomas is from Ulm in the South of Germany.

CDF:  Were you both always this interested in cars, or is this a passion that built over the years?

Thomas Sälzle: Yes, for sure. My passion for cars started with toys. I was always collecting car brochures from various local dealers my dad took me to. I remember the 1983 Fiat Uno having a big visual impact on me. The car was so different from all the other cars on the street. So clean, so light…

M: I‘ve always liked cars. I read all the magazines I could get, especially about sports cars like Ferraris or Lamborghinis. I was about 12 or 13 years old when I started drawing them. First I copied existing cars, then I started my own creations. I still have them stored somewhere.

T: I think I was sketching doodles in the magazines on top of the photos. This means I was transforming three-box-cars, for example, into fastbacks or station wagons or doing some kind of restyling (laughs).

CDF:  What provided the impetus for you to start FORMFREU.DE ?

M. : We always travel to all kinds of events and take pictures. The amount of photos was just getting bigger and bigger, so we were looking for a way to archive and share these photos.

T: There are so many cool things to capture – architecture, life in trendy cities like Berlin and Barcelona, fashion shows, some hip happenings, and of course, cars.

M: I remember talking about the project for a long time. One night out at a bar in Wiesbaden, the idea and the name was born. FORMFREU.DE, which means something like the enjoyment of shape. But also plays with the DE ending. The blog provides the perfect format for our idea.

T: That was the Haltbar Pub at Neugasse in Wiesbaden. We should go back there one day. I haven’t been in a while.

CDF:  The depth of your blog’s content is quite amazing.  How many people do you have working on your site?

M: Basically it’s just the two of us. Sometimes we have friends and contributors who provide us with special reports, like Simon Grand from Turin or Fabrizio Buonamassa Stigliani from Rome.

T: Fabrizio recently sent us some amazing pictures of Mille Miglia cars in an underground parking garage in Rome. Super cool!!

CDF:  What kind of cameras are you using to capture these photos?  Do you use any special lenses?

M: No, nothing special. I only used a small Casio Exilim and a Canon PowerShot for years. Just recently I bought a Nikon D5000. That increased the quality of the images quite a bit, but in general, I think that the camera is not the important thing. It’s the eye for the object and the situation.

T: Markus convinced me to buy the Nikon, too. And I love it! I am also surprised about the quality of pictures done with the iPhone. Somehow, they have a special feeling about them.

CDF:  Many of your galleries are presented in portrait format.  Is there a specific reason you tend to favor this orientation?

T: Maybe it’s just different and unexpected…Cars are usually photographed in horizontal format. Sometimes we focus more on details and composition. I like it better this way.

CDF:  When you attend a show or a gathering, what do you two look for when you’re taking photographs?  What catches your eye?

M: I try to look for the beauty in the object. The composition of the photo is very important. The backround, the sharpness, the color. The object itself becomes sometimes secondary. Beauty is everywhere..

T: Perfect explanation, Markus.  (smiles)

CDF:  How many events do you cover in a given year?

M: We don‘t count or plan. We usually attend Geneva, Frankfurt and Paris as car designers. But there are also classic car shows and other events. We don‘t go always together. Thomas lives in Germany and I live in Barcelona, so we also cover our local events. This way we get a large variety of stuff. Basically, it’s just a hobby.

CDF:  Are there any places or events that you haven’t visited that you’re dying to see?

M: I would really like to go to Goodwood Festival of Speed.  I have been to the Le Mans Classic, the Mille Miglia, the Pebble Beach Concours d elegance, but not Goodwood.  Someday…  And I would love to go to New York again. Last time I visited there was almost 10 years ago, so it’s time to go again.

T: We should definitely try to make the Mille Miglia next year.

CDF:  What has the reaction been to your work since the site was founded?

M: We‘ve gotten a lot of good feedback and we’ve also made some interesting contacts — like the guys from the German INTERSECTION magazine. Now we collaborate with them, write articles and share photos.

T: Every month our number of visitors grows – and it’s people from all over the world. The success also requires a lot of discipline our side in order to feed the website regularly with cool stuff.

CDF:  Of all the photo collections you’ve posted, do you have any personal favorites?

M: I liked our recent series of posts about the Concorso d’Eleganza Villa d’Este (see below). We had so much great material that we had to devide it into several sub-categories.

T: Markus took some amazing pictures at Hockenheim and the Nurburgring (see below).

I remember some exciting moments taking photos of the Bierpinsel building in Berlin or visiting the former Tempelhof Airport. These places are full of history.  Berlin is so inspirational to me. The best pictures are still on my harddisk and are waiting to be published! (laughs)

CDF:  Have you considered publishing a hardcover book of your photographs, as a sort of coffee table book?

M: Yes, this is still one of our favorite ideas. It‘s nice to have all the photos on the web, but we think a book would be a nice thing to have. We also thought about a magazine or even an exhibition. There are so many possibilities.

T: I think a book would be an interesting challenge; we could mix up pictures so there’s some cool and unexpected dialogue inbetween them. Markus and I also have a second project in the pipeline. We have been collecting hundreds of old pictures from flea markets that show people with their cars. Most of them are black and white. Taking photos at that time was only for very special moments. So you can really see the pride of the people in front of their own cars.  We would like to evaluate these moments and emotions and put together something really stunning.

CDF:  The bulk of your work concerns classic automotive details.  What are your feelings about the details found on automobiles sold today?

M:  Most of them are not so interesting. But maybe that‘s because you see them a lot on the street. Classic car details are rarer.

CDF:  What role or purpose do you believe details should play in the world of auto design today?

M: It’s not the main thing, but a nice car with bad detailing is a pity. On the other hand, nice details won’t help a bad car. The design should be coherent.  The love that went into the designing of the car should be apparent as well.

CDF:  Of all the auto companies out there, who do you think really understands the role that detail plays in design?

M: I think that Audi or Porsche pay a lot of attention to details and quality in general. Recently, I also found nice details on Ferraris, which are usually lacking in that respect. I remember the doorhandle of the Fiat Barchetta. Everybody talked about it. Or the Mini swichtes on the center console.

CDF: Who are your favorite automotive designers, past and present?

T: My heros are Hans Ledwinka (the man behind the streamlined Tatras of the 30s) and, of course, Giorgetto Giugiaro. From my times at Fiat I remember in particular Mike Robinson, today’s head of Stile Bertone – a great character and fantastic coach, encouraging and stimulating his designers with care and respect for their creativity.

M: If I have to pick one, it’s probably Giorgetto Giugiaro. The amount of great concepts and designs he’s done is just amazing, especially in the 70s. The Maserati Boomerang, the Bora, the BMW M1, the Lotus Esprit.. But also the De Tomaso Mangusta, or the De Lorean DMC-12 in the 80s. Or the Alfa Romeo Brera in 2002. I also had the luck to work at Design Center Europe (Volkswagen Group) with some outstanding designers, which I admire a lot. Jean-Pierre Ploue (who did the Renault Argos or Laguna concepts back in the 90s and the Renault Twingo I. He is today head of design at Citroen/Peugeot). Another designer was Davide Arcangeli, who has unfortunately passed away. He had an outstanding sense of proportion and volume and a beautiful drawing style. He designed the BMW 5er (E60) or the Peugeot 406 Coupe from 1996. I learned a lot from both, not least of which from their character. Later, while working at Renault I met fantastic designers like Stephane Janin, Francois Leboine or David Durand …there are so many more I could mention.

CDF:  Your tastes seem to be very wide ranging and eclectic, but are there any designs that you simply cannot stand?

M:  Carwise, I really dont like the Citroen Picasso (1999) and I never understood how it could be successful in the marketplace.  Also, some american cars of the 80s and 90s. It’s not my taste.

CDF:  What’s in the near future for FORMFREU.DE ?  Do you have a list of shows to attend this summer?

M: In the summer I will be in Germany, mainly. We will take part in the famous Sachsen Classic Rallye in August. I will also try to go to the Oldtimer GT at Nurburgring and some other events. And the Paris Motor Show is in October.

T: I am really looking forward to my trip to Berlin this week. The DMY Design Festival is taking place in the hangars of the former Tempelhof Airport, and there’s also the ILA Berlin Air Show in Schönefeld. And Berlin Fashion Week is coming soon…

CDF:  Do either of you have any advice for future or aspiring car designers?

M: I teach at the Instituto Europeo di Design school in Barcelona, so that question comes up often.  I think that they really, really have to love what they do. They also need talent, a good knowlege of cars and whats going on the the design field. You have to be aware of what the top level students are doing these days and what you will have to do to compete with them for a job. Its an international business, so good english is necessary. You might get a job outside of your home country.

CDF:  Will we see either of you in Detroit anytime soon?

M: I have no plans so far. It would be a big trip for me, and the Detroit show has lost a bit of its importance recently. But I have a good friend there, so that might be a good reason.

CDF:  Thank you both very much.

*all images used with the kind permission of formfreu.de

Niki Lauda

The computerized Austrian driver was famous for his precision on the track.  No oversteering excess, no needless drama, just precision.  This simple, single-minded approach is reflected in his helmet design: A distinctive, red-orange finish with his name in white block letters.  Even when he moved to Ferrari in 1974, the color was just orange enough to remove it from the scarlet of the car.  During his comeback in the 1980s, he briefly wore a white helmet with red-orange graphics (these graphics were similar to those found in his airline logo).  Later on, he returned to red-orange and made the graphics white.

Graham Hill

“Mister Monaco” was the picture of Grand Prix glamour.  Off the track, when he wasn’t attending social events, he enjoyed rowing — a pasttime that no doubt influenced his driving approach.  His helmet reflected this interest, displaying the colors of the London Rowing Club:  A dark blue field adorned with eight oar-shaped white lines.  It’s a lot like the man himself;  sharp and unmistakable.

Carlos Reutemann

To this day, even some of the nuttiest F1 helmets are based on the simple premise of a rectangular, wrap around element with a dome-like cap.  This has sort of become the ranch house of helmet design, and it’s hard to think of a time when it was new and progressive.  That’s why Carlos Reutemann’s helmet is noteworthy; it was likely one of the first to feature this kind of design.  The only other one I can think of belonged to Johnny Servoz-Gavin, who used a blue and red arrangement.

Jody Scheckter

The South African driver found success at Ferrari in 1979, and before that with Walter Wolf Racing.  His helmet may seem plain at first, but it grows on you.  I especially like the large, italicized JODY under the yellow band.  It’s funny how this look seemed to work wherever he went:  McLaren, which used white and yellow at the time, Tyrrell with its blue and yellow, Ferrari, which *loves* yellow, and Wolf, which was black and gold.  Jody’s son drives Indy cars, but I’m not sure if he uses a design like this…

We’ll do another F1 helmet installment at a later date.  Perhaps, in retrospect, this should be called the “primary colors” edition.  Interesting how it worked out that way…

For designers, there are few things more daunting than sketching in silence.  Most need some music, casual conversation or something else to fill the void around them.  A few take this one step further, filling the void with something specific that sets the tone for their work.  Enter the phenomenon of the background film — one that you watch out of the corner of your eye.  Le Mans is one of these films.

Some movies have a narrative that requires your full attention.  If you make a trip to the kitchen or the bathroom during these films, you’ll be completely lost when you come back.  Other films have virtually no narrative, let alone a discernable plot.  Le Mans is the story of a ficticious 24 Hours of Le Mans.  Period.  Sure, there are backstories for each of the main characters.  But these details are so thinly sketched that they have no real impact on the outcome of the movie.  They mainly serve to divide one racing scene from another.  Normally, such a vapid screenplay would be a bad thing, but in a background film situation, who cares?  You’re not watching this film to see Elga Andersen and Steve McQueen in awkward moments of silence.  You’re watching it to see and hear the cars!  You’ve heard the old saying, “It’s the economy, stupid!”  Well, “It’s the cars, stupid!”  It’s just that simple.

Well, I suppose there is one other story in Le Mans:  Porsche vs. Ferrari.  Or, if you prefer, Ferrari vs. Porsche.  Either way, it gives some much-needed identity to the main characters (the kind you can gather out of the corner of your eye, at any rate).  Michael Delaney (played by McQueen) is co-driving one of the three Gulf Porsche 917s in the race.  The iconic blue and orange machines, 20, 21 and 22, are distinguishable by number, but also by paint scheme:  Delaney’s number 20 has an orange stripe down the middle that wraps around the front.  21 has the same orange stripe, but it stops just short of the front end.  22 has an orange greenhouse with a powder blue body.  Racing teams employ small details like this that they can see at speed, so they don’t necessarily have to read the numbers.  Remember the yellow tabs F1 Ferraris used to have on their wings?  Same idea, different execution.

Since McQueen is driving a Porsche, it’s no big surprise that his team is cast in the protagonist’s role – which makes the Ferrari team the defacto antagonist, or villain.  This doesn’t mean the race is an allegory for the struggle between good and evil.  But the protagonist/antagonist dynamic, intentional or not, is definitely there.  The same feeling is present in Grand Prix, with a Ferrari team managed by Largo from Thunderball, minus the eye patch and dinner jacket.  For a brief time in Le Mans, the Gulf Porsches and Ferraris are outclassed by a privately-entered white Porsche.  The car has an air of mystery, since we never actually see the drivers on camera.  The rest of the entrants are random and meaningless, serving only as mobile roadblocks for the principle characters during the race.  They move at a snail’s pace compared to the 917s and Ferraris.  Frankly, they’re almost sleep-inducing.

But not to worry — there are several violent crashes along the way to keep us awake (one of them a complete surprise).  The collisions, while well-executed and well-edited, aren’t quite as dramatic as those in Grand Prix. Maybe this has something to do with open wheeled cars looking inherently more precarious.  At any rate, Le Mans does a good job portraying the energies and the danger involved in racing.  As a designer, I occasionally prefer sketching in a manner that communicates motion and energy.  Having an energetic film running in the background helps get me in the right mood.  This may be too abstract an association for some, but for me, and others, it’s vital.  The alternative is sketching in a veritable vacuum, which I don’t recommend.  Creativity needs stimuli like a plant needs water.

So hit up Netflix for Le Mans the next time you’re sketching race cars or sports cars.  Forget about the vapid plot and the flat acting; see if just having it on in the same room has some positive effect on your work.  Or try another film like Grand Prix.  You may be pleasantly surprised with the results.

Pegaso may not be a household name like Seat or Hispano-Suiza, but they did produce a number of gorgeous sports cars – in between cranking out their commercial trucks, tractors and omnibusses…

Only about a hundred Z-102s were built.  The white one pictured above actually crashed at Le Mans in 1953, but thankfully, it was repaired so it could race again.  Z-102s were well equipped, featuring all-independent suspension, five-speed gearboxes and very powerful supercharged engines.  They were offered with a choice of four bodies: Touring, Saoutchik, Serra or Enasa, Pegaso’s parent company (“Pegaso”).  I’ve never seen one of these in person, but judging by the photographs, they’re sporty and elegant — a hard balance to strike in any era.  I especially like the leather hood straps and the various air intakes; they conjure up images of cars peeling around a circuit like Jarama!  VRRROOOM!!!

“Pegaso.”  Wikipedia.  7 May 2010.  Web.  19 May 2010.

Technically speaking, Grand Prix is a masterpiece.  Released in 1966, this film used Panavision cameras mounted on the cars.  Some views look over the driver’s shoulder to the car ahead; others look back from the right front wheel, showing the driver and the car following him.  Add to this the fact that the film was shot in Cinerama, and you have an amazingly dynamic presentation for the time.  Even on a laptop DVD player which tends to look grainy, the picture is exceptional — even better than Le Mans.

Frankenheimer was adamant that he would not shoot the cars at low speed and then speed up the film.  This technique had been used in other movies and looked very odd on screen (the final, out-of-control yacht scene in Thunderball is a good example of this).  Thanks to the involvement of actual Formula One drivers like Jack Brabham and Richie Ginther, the ambitious director was able to get his wish.  It should be noted, however, that James Garner did a fair amount of driving himself — at speed.  Jim Russell, whose name you may recognize from his racing schools, helped the stars train for Grand Prix, and his instruction was critical to the film’s success.  With all those close up shots of the drivers with open face helmets, picking a professional that had a passing resemblance to Garner simply wouldn’t do.  The results are incredible, as you can read the actor’s expressions during the race.

Of course, no racing film would be complete without one important element: danger.  Grand Prix features several dramatic collisions throughout the story, some of them fatal (for the characters, not the actors).  Thanks to the brave stunt work and some inspired editing, these incidents look very real and very dangerous.  You’ll find yourself wincing and ducking in your chair.  But this feeling of danger is not isolated to the accidents themselves.  Throughout the film, the cars come across as very fragile, looking as if they could break at any moment.  This is especially true on the high banks at Monza where the suspension whips up and down, and you’re just waiting, waiting for one of the A-arms to snap like a matchstick.  It will keep you on the edge of your seat, even after extended racing scenes.

Of course, everything I’ve mentioned thus far speaks to Grand Prix’s technical excellence.  When the cars stop, the principle actors have to rely on the script to entertain us.  And unfortunately, this is where Frankenheimer’s epic falls short.  Quite honestly, I’ve seen better story lines on daytime soap operas.  I give credit to the writers for trying to get us emotionally involved with the characters so we have an investment in what happens to them (this is one of my main gripes with Le Mans; the characters there are so one dimensional that you find it hard to be concerned about their safety, for example).  But the melodrama is taken to an almost cartoonish extreme, not unlike Days of Thunder.  Now that I think about it, Grand Prix feels a lot like a golden age Hollywood film, like Ben-Hur or Spartacus — and not just because it has an overture and an intermission.  The overall presentation, the acting, the sweeping story have a nostalgia all their own.  Even the music is a throwback; the rising horns sounding more like WWII dog fighting music than racing music – which makes some sense.

On the whole, Grand Prix is an exciting achievement in film, and a must-have for any car designer’s video library.  If you’re looking for an authentic representation of Formula One racing in the 1960s, or just something to play in the background while sketching, this movie has no equal.  Just keep the remote handy, as you may want to skip through some of the more expository scenes.  Just saying…

The Quick and the Dead  (approx 88 min B&W/Color)

This notorious documentary borrows its title from the Apostles’ Creed.  It’s meant to suggest there are two types of Grand Prix drivers.  It may seem a cold, unfeeling distinction.  But after watching the first few seconds of this film, you’ll find it all too apt. Indeed, there’s a reason why the re-release is rated R.

The film opens with one of the most horrific moments in F1 history.  Kyalami, South Africa.  1977.  One car is stricken by the side of the road.  An inexperienced marshall rushes across the circuit to help out.  Unsighted by a rise in the track surface, he walks right into the path of Tom Pryce’s Shadow. The result is as gruesome as it is shocking.  Both men killed instantly, with the horror film-like score driving home the gravity of the marshall’s choice.  Many will be so put off by this scene that they will likely stop the film.  I wouldn’t blame them;  it’s very difficult to watch.  Not for the faint of heart, let alone minors.

Following the opening credits, we’re greeted by a mustachioed Stacy Keach – our guide to the loud, violent world of Grand Prix racing.  He describes, with uncommon eloquence, the preparation of the cars, the skill of the drivers and the all too apparent risks they are taking.  He states, “During the three days (of a Grand Prix race weekend) the human capacity for excellence, for ingenuity, for callousness, for vulgarity, for sheer noise, for waste, for daring, for beauty — those capacities are stretched about as far as they can go, outside of war.”  The amazing sounds and images that follow prove him right.

One shot in particular from The Quick and the Dead lingers in my mind:  The cars cresting a rise at the Montjuïc circuit, their engines overloading the microphones with layer upon layer of shrill chords. After this dazzling display, we get to know several drivers. Turns out they’re the polar opposite of the racing imagery:  Calm, well-mannered, introspective, strangely at peace with themselves.  We get to know one of these men particularly well:  The tall, dark and very handsome Frenchman, François Cevert. As Jackie Stewart’s pupil at the Tyrrell team, he speaks candidly about the challenges he has faced and the sobering lessons that he’s learned. Relaxing under an umbrella with his shirt unbuttoned, Cevert is like an idealized, Roman vision of the Grand Prix driver.  We follow him around the circuit as he chats with his cohorts;  on the sandy beaches where he frolics with topless beauties.  I can’t help but shake my head and remark, “Wow, what a life.” But it figures. High stakes and the high life just go together.

We’re treated to more footage:  Exciting shots are thrown together with no real regard for continuity. Psychedelic colors overlay the in-car footage, dating the production considerably. Our ironic chuckles suddenly stop as we’re thrust back into reality – Roger Williamson’s March has overturned and caught fire at Zandvoort.  David Purley, a fellow driver, stops his car and sprints over to the flaming wreck. He tries in vain to right the car, getting almost no help from the passive marshalls. We share in his anguish and disgust as he finally gives up.  In classic 1970s form, the race continues.  A winner is crowned, and the circus moves on.  Minus one performer. The film ends on an equally somber note, listing the drivers who eventually paid the same price.  Our dashing friend François, who had everything going for him, is first on the list. It’s heartbreaking, but not at all surprising given what we’ve just witnessed. As Steve McQueen once said, “This isn’t just a thousand-to-one shot.  This is a professional, blood sport.  And it can happen to you.”  The Quick and the Dead is a poisoned chocolate that articulates this drama in an uncompromising fashion — a fashion which will likely never be equaled.  For better or for worse…