Your Humble Filmosaur has a bad habit of overlooking details. There are many interesting photographs to be found in those little pockets and corners that get lost in the clutter or the scenery, to be sure; I’m just not very good at spotting them. Ironic, since I’m pretty near-sighted. But every once in a while I stumble upon them, especially with vehicles. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I’m fond of the mechanical, and the details of vehicles attract me because I’m curious about the engineering and design choices that were made.
Nothing like 1930’s German design. Absolutely gorgeous without a single unnecessary addition. Bauhaus minimalism at its industrial best. This one was shot with my Pentax SFX at the BMW Museum in Spartanburg, SC.
Door handle of a ridiculously beautiful Alfa Romeo 2900C. The whole car is made up of these design gems, resting on one of the most spectacular examples of interwar body sculpting I’ve ever seen, finished in a dark gray that allows the chrome bits to stand out. Shot at Lime Rock Park, CT with my Canon S1 IS. (And just in case anyone else noticed it, yes, it does drive me nuts that the screwhead slots are not lined up.)
Functional design details are hard to find in today’s cars; everything is covering in annoying plastic cladding that just gets in the way. And I don’t care how much safer they are: airbag steering wheels will never look as good as the chrome-and-wood ones. Anyway, for those of you who have not had enough time on this earth to evolve into crotchety old people, bumpers used to be made of steel and featured enough sharp angles and points to keep any pedestrian thinking twice before crossing the street, and enough chrome to blind them from two blocks away. They’re long gone from cars, but thankfully they still exist somewhere. Shot, appropriately, with a camera from the era of chrome and steel, my Olympus PEN EES-2.
This one came from the first roll I shot through my Rollei 35. It just goes to show that details aren’t all about shiny and perfect, either. Beat up and ugly as this old Chevy might be, I’d take its rugged simplicity over some soulless plastic heap any day of the week. Sure, I’d probably end up impaled on the steering column in any sort of serious accident, but the truck would just have a new character dent and I’d go out in style.