/page/2
[Looping the loop - but with no loop]

[Looping the loop - but with no loop]

[The Collarbone/Dan Craven]
iPad magazine coming soon.

[The Collarbone/Dan Craven]

iPad magazine coming soon.

(Source: thecollarbone)

[Soviet military map of London - Victoria Park/Homerton/Hackney Wick]

[Soviet military map of London - Victoria Park/Homerton/Hackney Wick]

I interviewed Mark Cavendish for this video for Nike.

[Woody Guthrie’s new year’s resolutions, 1942]

[Woody Guthrie’s new year’s resolutions, 1942]

Andrew Losowsky on print in Turning Pages:

…the survival of the physical product only makes sense where its physicality is a deliberately curated part of its design… 

[Winter road I, 1963, Georgia O’Keeffe]
Oil on canvas55,9 x 45,7 cmEstate of Georgia O’Keeffe
via.

[Winter road I, 1963, Georgia O’Keeffe]

Oil on canvas
55,9 x 45,7 cm
Estate of Georgia O’Keeffe

via.

(via sallyreynolds)

[160 kilometres through the Chilterns, 10/12/11]

[160 kilometres through the Chilterns, 10/12/11]

[What would Fausto do? - part of a feature on winter training on Rapha.cc]
Autumn has shaded into winter, but as we approach the year’s hub, the winter solstice, it is light and not warmth that is lacking.
It’s the time of year when thoughts slide inexorably towards the turbo, but it doesn’t have to be like that. For some inspiration, think back to 1946, the year that Fausto Coppi announced his return to the world. Riding La Primavera, he broke away with almost 250 kilometres to go. Ditching his last companions on the Turchino, he soloed to victory, crossing the line 14 minutes ahead of second place.
In preparation for the season opener, he’d ridden 7,000 kilometres, and his training regime included 250-kilometre rides in which he’d arrange for local club riders to attack him remorselessly in the last hundred. Little wonder he made it to San Remo first. For a man who had been a prisoner of war for three years in North Africa, in decent conditions but mostly without a bike, what a release it must have been to get back to riding the cold, slippery roads of northern Italy.
The motivation to get out on the road might be falling but remember: there’s more to life than two hours at a steady 125bpm on the turbo, watching Tour DVDs, like a hamster on a wheel. Gravel and snot, and a cold nose, maybe. But also fresh air in the lungs and, perhaps, a view glimpsed through bare branches, never seen riding that road in summer. Steam rising off your companions’ head as they take their hats off. Tea and cake, or a bacon sarnie, in a noisy, packed cafe.
Think back, to a man imprisoned in the heat, pining for cold solitary kilometres, and get out there on your bike.

[What would Fausto do? - part of a feature on winter training on Rapha.cc]

Autumn has shaded into winter, but as we approach the year’s hub, the winter solstice, it is light and not warmth that is lacking.

It’s the time of year when thoughts slide inexorably towards the turbo, but it doesn’t have to be like that. For some inspiration, think back to 1946, the year that Fausto Coppi announced his return to the world. Riding La Primavera, he broke away with almost 250 kilometres to go. Ditching his last companions on the Turchino, he soloed to victory, crossing the line 14 minutes ahead of second place.

In preparation for the season opener, he’d ridden 7,000 kilometres, and his training regime included 250-kilometre rides in which he’d arrange for local club riders to attack him remorselessly in the last hundred. Little wonder he made it to San Remo first. For a man who had been a prisoner of war for three years in North Africa, in decent conditions but mostly without a bike, what a release it must have been to get back to riding the cold, slippery roads of northern Italy.

The motivation to get out on the road might be falling but remember: there’s more to life than two hours at a steady 125bpm on the turbo, watching Tour DVDs, like a hamster on a wheel. Gravel and snot, and a cold nose, maybe. But also fresh air in the lungs and, perhaps, a view glimpsed through bare branches, never seen riding that road in summer. Steam rising off your companions’ head as they take their hats off. Tea and cake, or a bacon sarnie, in a noisy, packed cafe.

Think back, to a man imprisoned in the heat, pining for cold solitary kilometres, and get out there on your bike.

[Konrad Faber’s bird’s-eye view map of the siege of Frankfurt, 1552]

[Konrad Faber’s bird’s-eye view map of the siege of Frankfurt, 1552]


Some terms relating to drunkenness from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue” [1811]

ADMIRAL OF THE NARROW SEAS. One who from drunkenness vomits into the lap of the person sitting opposite to him.

ALTITUDES. The man is in his altitudes, i.e. he is drunk.

TO CAT, or SHOOT THE CAT. To vomit from drunkenness.

CORNED. Drunk.

CUP-SHOT. Drunk.

DUTCH FEAST. Where the entertainer gets drunk before his guest.

HALF SEAS OVER. Almost drunk.

NAZY. Drunken. Nazy cove or mort; a drunken rogue or harlot.

SURVEYOR OF THE HIGHWAYS. One reeling drunk.

(via invisiblestories)

(Source: gutenberg.org)

[Tommy Godwin’s year mileage record]

On October 26th 1939, Tommy rode into Trafalgar Square, having completed 62,658 miles, gaining the [year’s mileage] record with two months to spare. That wasn’t enough. He rode on through the winter to complete an astounding 75,065 miles in the year. Still that was not enough; in May 1940 after five hundred days of riding he secured the 100,000 mile record as well. Tommy dismounted his bike and spent weeks learning how to walk again before going off to war.

[Tommy Godwin’s year mileage record]

On October 26th 1939, Tommy rode into Trafalgar Square, having completed 62,658 miles, gaining the [year’s mileage] record with two months to spare. That wasn’t enough. He rode on through the winter to complete an astounding 75,065 miles in the year. Still that was not enough; in May 1940 after five hundred days of riding he secured the 100,000 mile record as well. Tommy dismounted his bike and spent weeks learning how to walk again before going off to war.

Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.
– Gustave Flaubert
[Looping the loop - but with no loop]

[Looping the loop - but with no loop]

[The Collarbone/Dan Craven]
iPad magazine coming soon.

[The Collarbone/Dan Craven]

iPad magazine coming soon.

(Source: thecollarbone)

[Soviet military map of London - Victoria Park/Homerton/Hackney Wick]

[Soviet military map of London - Victoria Park/Homerton/Hackney Wick]

I interviewed Mark Cavendish for this video for Nike.

[Woody Guthrie’s new year’s resolutions, 1942]

[Woody Guthrie’s new year’s resolutions, 1942]

via.

Andrew Losowsky on print in Turning Pages:

…the survival of the physical product only makes sense where its physicality is a deliberately curated part of its design… 

[Winter road I, 1963, Georgia O’Keeffe]
Oil on canvas55,9 x 45,7 cmEstate of Georgia O’Keeffe
via.

[Winter road I, 1963, Georgia O’Keeffe]

Oil on canvas
55,9 x 45,7 cm
Estate of Georgia O’Keeffe

via.

(via sallyreynolds)

[160 kilometres through the Chilterns, 10/12/11]

[160 kilometres through the Chilterns, 10/12/11]

[What would Fausto do? - part of a feature on winter training on Rapha.cc]
Autumn has shaded into winter, but as we approach the year’s hub, the winter solstice, it is light and not warmth that is lacking.
It’s the time of year when thoughts slide inexorably towards the turbo, but it doesn’t have to be like that. For some inspiration, think back to 1946, the year that Fausto Coppi announced his return to the world. Riding La Primavera, he broke away with almost 250 kilometres to go. Ditching his last companions on the Turchino, he soloed to victory, crossing the line 14 minutes ahead of second place.
In preparation for the season opener, he’d ridden 7,000 kilometres, and his training regime included 250-kilometre rides in which he’d arrange for local club riders to attack him remorselessly in the last hundred. Little wonder he made it to San Remo first. For a man who had been a prisoner of war for three years in North Africa, in decent conditions but mostly without a bike, what a release it must have been to get back to riding the cold, slippery roads of northern Italy.
The motivation to get out on the road might be falling but remember: there’s more to life than two hours at a steady 125bpm on the turbo, watching Tour DVDs, like a hamster on a wheel. Gravel and snot, and a cold nose, maybe. But also fresh air in the lungs and, perhaps, a view glimpsed through bare branches, never seen riding that road in summer. Steam rising off your companions’ head as they take their hats off. Tea and cake, or a bacon sarnie, in a noisy, packed cafe.
Think back, to a man imprisoned in the heat, pining for cold solitary kilometres, and get out there on your bike.

[What would Fausto do? - part of a feature on winter training on Rapha.cc]

Autumn has shaded into winter, but as we approach the year’s hub, the winter solstice, it is light and not warmth that is lacking.

It’s the time of year when thoughts slide inexorably towards the turbo, but it doesn’t have to be like that. For some inspiration, think back to 1946, the year that Fausto Coppi announced his return to the world. Riding La Primavera, he broke away with almost 250 kilometres to go. Ditching his last companions on the Turchino, he soloed to victory, crossing the line 14 minutes ahead of second place.

In preparation for the season opener, he’d ridden 7,000 kilometres, and his training regime included 250-kilometre rides in which he’d arrange for local club riders to attack him remorselessly in the last hundred. Little wonder he made it to San Remo first. For a man who had been a prisoner of war for three years in North Africa, in decent conditions but mostly without a bike, what a release it must have been to get back to riding the cold, slippery roads of northern Italy.

The motivation to get out on the road might be falling but remember: there’s more to life than two hours at a steady 125bpm on the turbo, watching Tour DVDs, like a hamster on a wheel. Gravel and snot, and a cold nose, maybe. But also fresh air in the lungs and, perhaps, a view glimpsed through bare branches, never seen riding that road in summer. Steam rising off your companions’ head as they take their hats off. Tea and cake, or a bacon sarnie, in a noisy, packed cafe.

Think back, to a man imprisoned in the heat, pining for cold solitary kilometres, and get out there on your bike.

[Konrad Faber’s bird’s-eye view map of the siege of Frankfurt, 1552]

[Konrad Faber’s bird’s-eye view map of the siege of Frankfurt, 1552]


Some terms relating to drunkenness from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue” [1811]

ADMIRAL OF THE NARROW SEAS. One who from drunkenness vomits into the lap of the person sitting opposite to him.

ALTITUDES. The man is in his altitudes, i.e. he is drunk.

TO CAT, or SHOOT THE CAT. To vomit from drunkenness.

CORNED. Drunk.

CUP-SHOT. Drunk.

DUTCH FEAST. Where the entertainer gets drunk before his guest.

HALF SEAS OVER. Almost drunk.

NAZY. Drunken. Nazy cove or mort; a drunken rogue or harlot.

SURVEYOR OF THE HIGHWAYS. One reeling drunk.

(via invisiblestories)

(Source: gutenberg.org)

[Tommy Godwin’s year mileage record]

On October 26th 1939, Tommy rode into Trafalgar Square, having completed 62,658 miles, gaining the [year’s mileage] record with two months to spare. That wasn’t enough. He rode on through the winter to complete an astounding 75,065 miles in the year. Still that was not enough; in May 1940 after five hundred days of riding he secured the 100,000 mile record as well. Tommy dismounted his bike and spent weeks learning how to walk again before going off to war.

[Tommy Godwin’s year mileage record]

On October 26th 1939, Tommy rode into Trafalgar Square, having completed 62,658 miles, gaining the [year’s mileage] record with two months to spare. That wasn’t enough. He rode on through the winter to complete an astounding 75,065 miles in the year. Still that was not enough; in May 1940 after five hundred days of riding he secured the 100,000 mile record as well. Tommy dismounted his bike and spent weeks learning how to walk again before going off to war.

Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.
– Gustave Flaubert
Some terms relating to drunkenness from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue” [1811]
"Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity."

About:

bicycles, pictures, books, picture books, picture books about bicycles.

from @m_xl, the author of fixed: global fixed-gear bike culture. also writes on occasion for esquire, grafik, monocle, rapha, road.cc and others.