|
|
 |
The Dutch Touch
|
|
|
|
|
|
Von Dutch Condor motorcycle
Basem Wasef
08/01/2005
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
Cordero Studios
|
Von Dutch cultivated that discomfort by
refusing to let anyone get close to him. As he intentionally disobeyed the
requests of his clients, his work became an increasingly defiant, self-serving
entity. For instance, when a nightclub owner came to Von Dutch with a
Mercedes-Benz Gullwing that needed extensive touch-up work, Von Dutch responded
by painting flames across the entire body. “We ate up about two cases of beer, a
few jugs of wine and about 20-odd rolls of masking tape,” Von Dutch boasted.
“After I turned this thing loose on the world, it caused accidents.”
The more
he excluded those around him, the more infamy he earned. Disgusted with fame and
the cult of personality, Von Dutch would initiate rumors of his demise by
systematically disappearing. He painted “Von Dutch is still alive” on bikes as a
private, tongue-in-cheek gesture of life affirmation. Eventually tiring of the
buzz around his absence, Von Dutch would reemerge from a period of seclusion
wearing a “Von Dutch is still alive” T-shirt. The message, he said, “saved
answering a whole lot of questions.”
Von Dutch addressed his vehicles the
same way he lived his life: with a tough utilitarianism mitigated with his
singular style. He spent many of his later years living and working out of a
converted Long Beach city bus, and while he painted countless cars, he also
enjoyed a lifelong love affair with motorcycles.
Though he owned numerous
bikes, including a 250cc, alcohol-burning Rudge Speedway racer, one of his
favorites was the 1941 Condor. Originally designed for use by the Swiss army,
the bike’s 580cc, horizontally opposed powerplant and no-nonsense layout made it
a poor man’s BMW.
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
