Archive for the ‘ Movements ’ Category

Free F1 and supercar photo exhibition in London

McLaren F1 detail from Art of the Supercar. Photo by James Mann

McLaren F1 detail from Art of the Supercar. Photo by James Mann

If you’re in London next weekend (October 1/2, 2011) then head to Plough Studios in Clapham, where you can see James Mann’s latest exhibition for free as part of the Lambeth Open Arts Festival. As well as fantastic studio images from our award-winning book Art of the Formula 1 Race Car, James will be exhibiting some amazing black and white shots from the Goodwood Revival taken using a period 1960s camera.

He’ll also be previewing images from our new book Art of the Supercar, which is published this November (please note Amazon is still listing it as Art of the Exotic Car, the publisher’s original codename). One of the stars of the book – either a Ferrari F40 or a Porsche Carrera GT (TBC) will also be there in the metal, taking centre stage in the very studio James used to shoot many of the cars in both books.

Lewis Hamilton's MP4-23 from Art of the Formula 1 Race Car. Photo by James Mann

Lewis Hamilton's MP4-23 from Art of the Formula 1 Race Car. Photo by James Mann

The exhibition is open from 10am-6pm and Plough Studios is a short walk from Clapham Common tube station.

Getting a little Crazy thanks to an errant Seal

I knew it was too good to be true. The sun was shining as I brought the mighty Skoda to a shuddering halt behind a silver Mercedes at the gates of Silverstone and a cheerful security guard waved me through, saying, “Just follow David Coulthard…”

First, the good news: Silverstone is ready to host the 2010 British Grand Prix and the revised layout has been granted FIA Grade One status pending what circuit boss Richard Phillips describes as “a couple of tweaks”. This in itself is a remarkable achievement given the severity of the last winter; my local sports centre has been retiling its swimming pool since November and it still hasn’t reopened yet.

The chief motivation for amending the layout was Silverstone’s new contract to host Britain’s MotoGP round. Bridge corner was adjudged too dangerous – you wouldn’t want a bike to have the same shunt as Andrea de Cesaris did in the Jordan in 1991 – but the bridge itself is integral to the circuit infrastructure, and for reasons too boring to go into at length they couldn’t just build a bigger one. Ron and Leon Haslam essayed several laps on a pair of roadgoing superbikes, while David Coulthard appeared in the Red Bull demo car (which I think is a 2006 Toro Rosso chassis with the 2009 RBR nose and rear wing), and Damon Hill took HRH the Duke of York round in the Santander two-seater.

It’s too early to call the possible effects of the new section but it represents an effective and imaginative use of existing space. Village corner has a tricky approach (complicated for the demo runs yesterday by ‘green’ asphalt, lots of dust, and a large stage directly in the drivers’ sight line), the effects of which were more pronounced for the bikes, which had a very gradual turn-in phase. The short squirt to the Loop will emphasise traction and may provide a further overtaking opportunity if someone has overcooked their approach to Village and run wide.

True to form for this part of the world, almost as soon as the engines were fired up after lunch the skies began to bruise. I was due to have a run in the Santander two-seater once the BBC finished filming, and after commiserating with one of the Motorcycle News testers (green surface? Dust? Rain? On a GSX-R1000? After you, Claude) I donned my flameproof garb. As I finished lacing up my Sparcos I realised it had all gone rather quiet. Enter the two-seater, on the back of a truck.

David Coulthard had been driving Martin Brundle round at the time, and apparently the radio conversation went something like this:

MB: I think there’s something wrong with the engine.

DC: No, it seems okay.

[PAUSE]

[**GRAUNCH**]

DC: Yeah, there’s something wrong with the engine…

A very long afternoon ensued as the mechanics traced the fault – a blown crank oil seal – and finally had to give up and call for a new engine. Still, there was amusement to be had. I learned that my otherwise risible phone insists on trying to substitute “Trundle” for “Brundle”.

My optimism ebbed and flowed as the clock ticked around towards the curfew point of 7pm. At around four o’clock the skies cleared and the sun shone once more. Almost everyone else except the various camera crews had gone home. I felt as if I was going to have the last laugh on this one. What a shame the car was still in several pieces, on axles stands, with a puddle of oil underneath.

It was half past six before the beast was reassembled and Martin set out for an installation lap with Sky’s John Desborough shoehorned into the back seat. In very short order a man in a suit appeared brandishing a walkie talkie. This is never a good sign, and indeed he seemed very put out that the car had sallied forth without appropriate clearance. Off he flounced, still gesticulating with his walkie talkie, muttering darkly that at 7pm the ambulance (an insurance requirement) was going to leave and that would be that.

The vindictive clouds chose this moment to gather again and deposit their contents upon this hallowed loop of Northamptonshire asphalt. Cue further delay as the car, now with James Allen strapped in the back, took wet tyres. You can see the video of their journey, including the new section of track, on James’s site.

I had the fireproof gear on and was about to slip on my crash helmet when the grumpy troll in his ambulance arrived at the back of the garage to signify that playtime was over.

So, a disappointing end to the day, but nothing that a restorative pint of Kingfisher, a deluxe mixed starter and a chicken jalfrezi at Farnham’s finest curry house couldn’t sort out. And there’s always a next time…

“Take me to Stirling’s…”

Legend has it that if you step in to a London cab and say, simply, “Take me to Stirling’s,” then you will be conveyed thither to Mayfair, and the mews residence which Sir Stirling Moss calls home. This morning I was privileged to have an appointment with Stirling to interview him for my next book, so I thought I’d put this legend to the test.

In the great tradition of Apple advertising (“Some sequences shortened”) we’ll flash past the bit where I leave my phone at home and nearly miss the train to London. Let’s begin at the taxi rank outside Waterloo station on a grey and chilly February morning.

“Take me to Stirling’s please.”

“Wot?”

“Stirling’s”

“You wot, Guv?”

“Stirling Moss’s house.”

“Where’s that, then?”

Thus was another panel stitched into life’s rich tapestry of small disappointments. Still, at least he didn’t say, “I had that Michael Jackson in the back the other week…”

I undertook the last part of the journey on foot and was shivering by the time I reached the door.

“My dear chap,” said Stirling, “you should stand in the loo for a few minutes. It’s much warmer in there.”

So Mrs Lady Moss decanted me into their beautifully toasty ground floor facility for a few moments before popping back with a steaming mug of tea. This all had a suitably restorative effect and the interview proceeded according to plan.

So, yes, a bit of an odd start to an interview, but not as strange as the time Gary Numan walked into the room carrying a bowl of Doritos and said, “Nibbles?”

There but for the grace of God goes my luggage…

In all my travels I’ve only ever been separated from my suitcase once. I’d been upgraded, too. It was like someone was telling me I wasn’t meant to turn left.

As my EasyJet flight pushed back from the stand – only 40 mins late – at Nice airport today, I heard someone on the row behind say, “Look, the bloke just drove off and left those bags on the ground.”

I pulled my nose out of my book and looked out. Hmm. One of them appeared to be mine…

After finally getting to the front of a passport queue that seemed to start in Cornwall (never mind, there’s a couple more years to sort Gatwick out before the Olympics roll around), I arrived without optimism in the baggage hall. Miraculously, there was my case.

So, a happy ending for me – but let’s raise a glass tonight for those poor folk whose dirty laundry is still sitting on the Tarmac…