Motorcycles and Art

The images published here date to 1979, when I rode my lightly customized Harley-Davidson Shovelhead to Sturgis, S.D., to experience and photograph my first Black Hills Rally. In the years since, I attended 39 Sturgis rallies and hundreds of other biker gatherings and events around the world. I have seen so much change.

Personally, I aged from 25 to 65, married a beautiful Irish woman and helped raise two children who are now adults, while my keen interest in photography developed into a lifelong career.

At the same time, America went through fashion trends, cultural shifts, fuel shortages, hostage situations, the 9/11 terrorist attacks, an ongoing war in the Middle East, the transition from an analog to a digital world, economic ups, downs and crashes and, now, the coronavirus pandemic.

My timing was impeccable, particularly with photography, because I was able to sustain a wonderful career for more than four decades.

I have been in love with photography since I was a kid. By 13, I had a working darkroom set up in the basement of our family home. Even on school nights, I would work until the early hours of the morning, when my parents came knocking.

In 1976, a friend let me ride his long Knucklehead chopper, and I was hooked. My own, more humble motorcycle, a Honda CB450, followed, and my lens began to focus on the biker culture and the custom side of motorcycling.

Less than a year later, I was riding my own Shovelhead and, somehow, without much of a plan, I ended up working with Easyriders magazine for more than 39 years. Between Easyriders, its sister publications and more than a dozen other magazines in countries around the world, I have published more than 1,000 photo features. And then there are the dozen coffee-table books with my name on the cover, along with countless others to which I’ve contributed.

▲ Jackpine Gypsies Motorcycle Club hillclimb, Sturgis, S.D., 1979

With a backyard studio to shoot bikes, my self-taught skills developed so that, with space and time, I grew a successful commercial photography business I juggled with my passion for motorcycles.

In 2000, I produced my first “Motorcycles and Art” exhibition that morphed into a themed annual event staged from 2001 to 2005 at the Journey Museum in Rapid City, S.D., during the rally. That space was wonderful, but I wanted the show to grow, both in accessibility and size, so I moved it to Sturgis. Then, in 2009, I settled the exhibit into a 7,000-square-foot gallery built specifically to house the show at the Sturgis Buffalo Chip.

Every August, the gallery is filled with 35 or more spectacular custom motorcycles arranged on pedestals, illuminated by 85 overhead theater lights, the surrounding walls packed with art. I create a new theme each year, for which there is a new logo, and all the art and custom bikes fit this theme. The show is free to the public.

Themes vary, from “Naked Truth” (2015), where the bikes couldn’t be painted or finished in any way, to “Built for Speed” (2014), in which all the art and bikes were inspired by racing. “Rebel Rousers” (2009) was focused on motorcycling icons. With “Passion Built” (2018), none of the artists or builders could make a living from their craft.

Most years, I can’t participate, because the theme I came up with excludes me. But I have chosen to curate work from the other artists whom I invite four out of every five years. Every fifth year, I fill the entire gallery with more than 100 large framed photographs from my personal archive.

That brings us to 2020.

These are troubled times. I have never seen our nation more divided. There is much racial unrest and, now, months into the pandemic, more than 200,000 American lives have been lost to COVID-19. Millions are profoundly affected. Many are out of work and worried about how they’re going to put food on the table.

▲ Early morning, city park, Sturgis, S.D., 1979

One week before the shut down, I was photographing ice racing on Lake Baikal in Siberia with my son, Sean, with whom I have been working side-by-side for the past three years. Most of my work requires travel, which screeched to a halt in early March.

Some have said this is a time to pause and reflect. I agree, at least for those who are fortunate enough to look at it in this way, which I have been.

My wife of 38 years, Catherine, stocked up while Sean and I were in Siberia, long before doing so crossed anyone’s mind. There are always new recipes to try and lively discussion, so we did not experience the loneliness that has plagued many. We have a backyard, and I was able to plant a garden that, in a normal year, I am gone too often to keep alive.

In the early weeks of the pandemic, I looked at old photo shoots spanning many years and many places. Scanning thousands of negatives and slides in hopes of finding something previously missed was a big job. But, this being the 20th year of “Motorcycles and Art” and an opportunity to display my own work, I immersed myself in editing and printing.

This year’s exhibition, “Heavy Mettle: Motorcycles and Art with Moxie,” was supposed to focus on builders who withstood the test of time, as well as the economic ups and downs motorcycling has experienced. To qualify, they had to have been in business at least 20 years and built at least 20 customs. Plus, they were supposed to build a new bike that shows where they are in their careers today.

I had been building my entire career toward this once-in-a-lifetime moment, the 20th year of my exhibition, my 40th year photographing the Sturgis rally and the 80th anniversary of the rally itself.

But this is 2020.

▲ Downtown, Sturgis, S.D., 1984

Due to travel restrictions, the European and Japanese builders couldn’t get themselves or their bikes to the United States, and many of the stateside builders were having trouble getting parts and service from vendors whose production had slowed or shut down.

With less than six weeks to go before our shipping sponsor would be picking up the bikes from the builders, I made an executive decision. The show would go on, but the already printed T-shirts would go through the presses a second time to add “Unlocked Edition” in bold red rubber-stamp typeface.

For the first time in its history, “Motorcycles and Art” would be a two-part show.
I encouraged the builders who could attend to send bikes that helped fortify their reputations, and then I invited a few select builders who also fit the original parameters to take the place of those who couldn’t be there.

I hung a smaller selection of my Sturgis-only photos and invited Scott Jacobs and David Uhl to display their paintings. Next year, for part two, “More Mettle,” the original roster will be invited back to showcase the new builds originally intended for this year, and I will take all the walls to mount a larger retrospective of my own work.

In the end, I made the difficult decision to leave Sturgis before the rally began and not photograph the event or the big industry party. I hadn’t missed a rally for nearly 40 years; but, for me, it was the right thing to do. This year, we all had to make personal choices for ourselves and for our families.

After eight days of working until midnight to set up the exhibition and photograph every bike, I headed home one day before the rally officially began.
Many friends said this was the best Sturgis ever. Excitement and energy levels were high. With many spring bike shows canceled and more cancellations expected, many attendees saw the rally as a unique opportunity.

I am already looking forward to next year. No one knows what the world will look like, but most agree it will be different. I will be back in the saddle of my motorcycle, ready to move on from editing what has been to recording what is yet to come.