I can't look at refrigerators the same after browsing your website. I keep judging people and wondering what their refrigerators say about them.
-Voicemail left on cellphone
I took a 10-day hiatus from the Other White Cube blog in late March for spring break, but, as the epigraph suggests, it is quite hard to escape a new perspective, especially one involving a pervasive appliance like the refrigerator. For my vacation, I traveled first to the coast of California and, then, to New Mexico for hiking and camping. Along the way, I serendipitously ran into refrigerator culture.
My uncle and I stayed in Pacific Grove, CA with the intent of touring Monterey's Cannery Row - where American author John Steinbeck lived and worked - and other towns along California's HIghway 1, including Carmel and Big Sur. We played the Decemberist's "California One" as each turn offered stunning views of coast-hugging golf courses, rocky beaches, tide pools, and verdant hills reminiscent of Ireland.
Fog hung heavy each morning but never on our dispositions and, thankfully, never too long. Sunny skies graced each day by noon, and it shined particularly bright on my fortune on Sunday, March 17 - our last day in California.
My uncle and I were out performing our morning routine - a quick walk around town, followed by breakfast, then back to the hotel to regroup for another adventure. As is typical of the two of us, we pounded the pavement pretty hard the first two days, packing a week's worth of activities into several hours. So, we meandered on Sunday a little more than usual, which led us to Jameson's Classic Motorcycle Museum, a few blocks off the main thoroughfare in Pacific Grove. A sign in the window reached out to me:
The advertisement for refrigerator magnets hooked me, and I yearned to see the magnetic walls inside. Peering through the windows, we caught the attention of the owners, Neil and Marge Jameson, who were opening early to lead a Vespa ride down the coast. They invited us in, but we felt intrusive as they worked diligently, setting things up for the ride. We walked to the hotel and came back a little later.
When we resurfaced again, several Vespa collectors had parked their vintage scooters outside, offering flaneurs like us a street exhibition of the many shapes, colors, and designs of two-wheeled transportation. After speaking with a few collectors, we finally entered the museum. Leaning on their kickstands like sculptures on pedestals, two rows of pristine motorcycles encouraged visitors to take a wonderful stroll down the middle of the room - a grand prix promenade of sorts. Indian, BSA, BMW, Harley-Davidson, and many other motorcycles filled the room and each one had its own style - different headlight shape, exhaust system, handlebar attitude, and decorative scheme. Each example was stunning, but I was there for an ulterior motive - I wanted to see the walls.
In a clever twist, the Jamesons have lined the walls of the museum with sheet metal - blending the sleek aesthetics of an art gallery with the grunge of garages. Entering the museum, the right wall is adorned with motorcycle ephemera - race calendars, business cards, maps, photos, race results, newspaper clippings, postcards, advertisements, and more. The left wall - filled with close-up, semi-abstract watercolors of motorcycle parts - makes the connection more visible between museum and motorcycle mannerisms.
Because of the smooth surface and collaged materials, the display looked charmingly similar to a refrigerator, and for good reasons. The museum offered a peek into the lives of the Jamesons - avid collectors, lifelong motorcycle hobbyists, and nice people, to boot. The museum is an expression of themselves - their knowledge, interests, experiences, and friends. Refrigerators offer a similar vehicle (pun intended) for visual communication.
How do you display your knowledge? How do you display your interests?
Thank you Neil and Marge for the great visit, and best wishes to the Jameson's Classic Motorcycle Museum.