The Memory of Bikes
During the pandemic, we have had time to slow down, concentrate, and do things we normally couldn’t do. I have used this time to reflect on old memories of my childhood in Beijing. What I remember the most is how the bicycle changed through the years. In the 1960s, the bicycle was not only transportation for an individual to start expanding geographically but also a social-economical, even political symbol, for an individual and family. The bicycle was not transportation from one place to another, but really an animation for experiencing what you are passing through. It allowed you to pause, stop, and engage in the moment. Something that cars, go from A to B, having to drive the speed limit, could not provide: the freedom to control your experience.
I have created 9 images of bicycles from a detailed outline to watercolor. I used zig-zag technical lines to represent the age of the bikes. For each painting, I tried to find the different broken parts in each bike to represent the age to mimic the human. In one way or another, we have a broken part, but we are still going. I tried to show the bike as alive, through the wind, hot summer, snow, cold — the marks left on their life. I first became fascinated with bikes when I was in the third grade. Back then I had to walk almost 2 hours to my relatives who had a bike to learn to ride a bike. At the end of elementary school, I was selected to join the track team and run the 100 and 200-meter dash. Each day, after school I used public transportation to get to practice. During this time, I always paid attention to the different types and characters of bikes.
After I started learning art, I rode my bike from one side of the city to another to spend hours drawing a model or scene. Because of this, I also learned to take care of my own bike, otherwise, I couldn’t get there. Back then, my family only had one bike. My parents used it during the day. So, during the night is when I used the bike to learn to draw. For my generation, the bike not only gave you function, experience, and freedom, but it was really the wind past your hair and the beautiful memory in your mind.
