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The Ski Helmet Project

When I found out our second term studio project would be helmets for ski patrol and winter search and rescue, I couldn't be happier. I have devoted more time to search and rescue than just about anything and there are few things that I am more passionate about. I figured there was a lot of potential for a successful project.

The other cool thing about the project was that Greg Marting from Easton Bell would be a guest instructor. Getting the chance to work with the designer of most of Giro's bike and snowsports helmets would be a great opportunity to learn from a master.

Of course, I had lofty ambitions of creating a digital model of the helmet in Solidworks, then CNC machining a mold and producing a wearable carbon fiber helmet, but reality struck and I reigned in my expectations little by little. At the end of the term, only one of my classmates had gotten far enough to creat a full helmet model whereas the rest of us only had half models that would be displayed on mirrors.

We started out with user research and brand analysis, then progressed to sketching ideas and carving sketch models in foam.

Once we had a solid design direction, we started modelling full-size half helmets in clay.

Once I arrived at the final form, I had to decide on the best way to proceed toward a final model. One of my instructors recommended that it would look more realistic if the components of the helmet were separate pieces instead of just masked-off and painted a different color. I ended up pursuing this approach by cutting off the trim pieces and re-fabricating them from Bondo formed on wire armatures. This was an amazingly time-consuming process but, as always, I learned a lot.

The Bondo trim pieces with the main helmet in the background

 

The earpiece was modelled in foam

 
Once the helmet and trim pieces were formed, I primed, sanded and painted them. After all the painting I'd done the last two terms, I finally felt like I had the hang of it and I was really happy with the paint job on the helmet.

For our final presentation, we also had to create an informational poster that would explain the helmet while it was on display.

My presentation went very well and I was reasonably happy with how the model came out. However, I intend to build a full model or prototype before I graduate.

Graphic Design

At GradID, they're trying to make us into well-rounded designers who can create everything from products to interfaces to systems to graphics. One of the foundation classes we take is in graphic design, something that I've dabbled in but never in an informed or educated way. This is the class that I always look forward to but always feel bad that I have never put the effort into that I would like. We had four different projects that we had the opportunity to develop during the course of the term.

The first was a logo for a non-profit organization and I chose the Santa Fe Conservation Trust since I worked with them during my mountain bike race promotion days. Folks from New Mexico might think incorporating the Zia symbol is a little cliche, and I don't disagree but at least it's subtle and a little different.

The next project was a poster for a made up film festival.

Then we did an infographic that was supposed to explain our design process. Mine was based on the old saying about how you eat an elephant.

The last one was a poster for our helmet project but I will leave that for a separate post.

The never-ending boat project

So at the beginning of my second term at Art Center, we got the opportunity to finish our boats. I wanted to get it done ahead of schedule so I quickly started the process of prime, sand, bondo, sand, prime, sand--you get the idea. Once the surface was as perfect as I was going to get it, I practiced with my color, Gecko Green, then painted the boat. As usual, my paint job wasn't the best so I spent some time wet-sanding the paint. Everything looked good so I planned to do the clear coat five days before it was due--until I noticed some cracks had formed at the edges of the top deck.

I immediately realized that the masonite deck had absorbed water when I was wet-sanding the paint and expanded. I should have known this was going to be a problem and back-painted the deck. Damn. So much for getting the boat done ahead of schedule.

I chipped away the paint and primer around the cracks, gently dried out the masonite with a heat gun and bondo-ed over the cracks. Then I masked off the bottom of the boat and primered the top (and the inside) with a decently thick coat. After it dried, I sanded the primer and re-painted the color over the whole boat. A little wet-sanding, two coats of clear and more wet-sanding ate up most of the weekend, but I got it done before it was due on Monday afternoon.

It looks so simple but there is an amazing amount of work that went into it.

The Last Boats

Once our tools were complete, we began work on our clay boats. Most of us had learned our lesson from the complex foam boats and designed simpler, and in many cases, more sophisticated forms. I based my design on an obscure Nordic sailboat called a Cohiba.

With my new tool, I quickly carved the basic form, then refined and smoothed it with steel scrapers which we also had to fabricate. During a couple of classes, we had Dave, a 25-year clay modeling veteran give a demonstration and give us tips as we shaped our boats. We were amazed to learn that he has amassed a collection of over 100 hand-made clay tools, many of which were designed for creating specific shapes. It was great to glean just a tiny bit of this guy’s extensive knowledge.

I was satisfied with how my clay boat came out and immediate turned my attention to the next project: a fiberglass version of the same design.

The fiberglass boat was pretty straightforward. We made plaster casts of our clay boats, prepared the molds in a multi-step, time-consuming and laborious process, then laid in layers of fiberglass and resin.


The only twist was that I got to be the guinea pig for our class since the end of the term was nearing and I wanted to get this project out of the way so I could concentrate on other things. It turns out that when I prepared the mold, I left a small pool of one of the liquid components in the bottom of the mold that didn’t cure. The result was that when I laid in the fiberglass and resin, there was a soupy mess in the bottom of my boat that never really cured. When I pulled the fiberglass out of the mold, the keel of the boat was a chunky mess.  Fortunately, since I still had the mold I could make another one. The second version came out quite a bit better. After we paint the foam boats, we’ll paint the fiberglass ones as well.

Bad Panda

I'm running out of time so it's going to be more pictures and fewer words from here on out.

This is my first studio project which was a line of items for the MoMA Store. We were supposed to come up with something that fit in with their current products and incorporated an element of irony. So, here is Bad Panda, a line of compostable, multiple-use bamboo products designed for parties and picnics that borrow the iconic forms of smoking to promote healthy eating.

 

 

Fabricating Tools

This was probably my favorite project of any of the classes in my first term. Eventually we would return to boats--in fact, the next boat would be modeled from clay--but we needed to design and build a clay tool in order to be able to work with the clay.

Two questions you might ask: 1) If working in clay is an established modeling technique for designers, aren’t there already commercially available clay tools? 2) Since you and your classmates are fledgeling designers who have likely never worked with clay, what do you know about designing clay tools?

Fair questions. It turns out that none of the commercially available clay tools is considered adequate. That, and there is a long-held tradition among clay modelers that you make your own tools. So we designed and built our own, or at least we tried since most of us had never worked in clay before.

The prototype

We each created our own designs and made prototypes out of laser-cut acrylic and foam. I was really glad we went through this process because I realized that my handle design worked better rotated 90 degrees. So I quickly revised the design before we sent off digital files to the water-jet fabrication shop where the frames were being cut out of 1/4” steel. We even got to take a field trip to the water-jet shop to see how the equipment worked.

 

The water jet machine looks pretty benign, right?

Maybe not...this tool can cut through 4" steel plate--and your fingers

Once we got the frames back from the fabricator, we went through the laborious task of shaping them with files, then smoothing everything with progressively finer grits of sandpaper until we were polishing the steel to a mirror-like finish. I had the added step of drilling some countersunk holes since my frame was fastened to the handle with tiny screws.

I figured out that my handle would be easiest to fabricate from three separate pieces, so I shaped a piece of rosewood I found to fit inside my frame, then laminated it between two pieces of an easy-to-work tropical hardwood (also found--it’s surprising what people discard as scrap). I shaped this assembly with rasps, files and a disk sander, then sanded it some more before applying a Danish Oil and wax finish.

The blade was cut from a hacksaw blade, polished, then soldered to the frame which necessitated re-polishing the steel since it got discolored in the process. Assembly went smoothly and I was happy with the result.

My clay tool is not so pristine after a bit of use but I like the patina that well-used tools develop

There was this weird, tense scene that was set up by an ominous email from the instructor sent a few days before that I interpreted as saying that no one would get an A. At the beginning of class, we each placed our tools on a table and stood behind them while the instructor meticulously inspected each one for flaws, then announced the grade. He ended up grading with more leniency than I anticipated and to the relief of most everyone around half the class got As and the rest got Bs. What made this moment even more odd was that it was the only grade we were informed of for the entire term and in any of our classes. Every other grade was a post-finals surprise.

Foam Boats

Our first Materials and Methods project was to design and model several boats in foam. After modeling two or three small boats of different designs, we created a larger boat based on one of the previous designs we had developed.

Two of my prototype foam boats

Our instructor had encouraged us to be creative in exploring our boat forms and most everyone pursued this with reckless abandon. Many of us later learned our lesson when our complex boats began to dominate our time since the end goal was an automotive quality finish. Countless hours were spent painting our models with catalytic primer, perfecting the form with Bondo and sanding everything to create a perfect surface. I had found a particularly effective way to screw myself by creating a catamaran design with three separate struts that flowed into character lines on each of the two hulls. The areas between the struts were particularly difficult and time-consuming to paint and sand. For me it became a Sisyphean ritual of going into school early and priming, bondoing and (mostly) sanding before classes got started. In fact, after a while, we just referred to Materials and Methods as Sanding Class. This moniker proved to be prophetic with our next project as well.

The primed, bondoed and sanded foam model

After weeks (or was it months?) of priming, bondoing and sanding, our instructor seemingly gave up since very few of us made any apparent progress toward our goal of painting our boats with color and clear coat. We had to move on with the next project so the task of painting was put on hold until the next term.

Now it just needs color and clearcoat

Helmet Design

Over the holidays, just about everyone I ran into not only wanted to hear how things went in my first term in the GradID program at Art Center, they wanted to see the work I'd done. Well, you all asked for it, so here is the first installment of what will be quite a few posts. Then I will likely disappear for another 14 weeks.

One of the classes I was looking forward to most in my first term at Art Center was Materials and Methods. I’ve always been a hands-on person and this shop class was designed to teach us techniques of creating models for our design projects. Our first medium was foam, something I had never worked with. The great thing about it is that it allows you to quickly model a form and creating numerous iterations of a design can go pretty quickly once you’ve gotten the hang of it.

Much to my delight (as a total bike dork) we had Greg Marting from Easton Bell Sports do a demonstration of modeling in foam. He showed us a bunch of different helmet designs he had done for cycling and other lesser sports like hockey. As someone who is obsessed with all things cycling, I thought Greg’s demo was a very cool introduction to modeling in foam.

Greg demonstrates modeling techniques

 

Various half-scale foam (yellow) and clay (brown) models of helmets

After creating the design in foam or clay, Easton Bell Sports builds a computer model, then makes a 3D print of the design. This is a half-scale model of the Giro Aeon, the helmet I use most of the time. It's detailed exactly like the production model, down to the little recesses for the pieces of velcro that hold the padding.

 

I guess that wasn't exactly about any of the work that I'd done over the past term but I'll get to that in my next post.

Destructive testing

Nearing the end of a ride on my day off, I tucked these Uvex glasses into the vents on the back of my helmet (the only place they'd fit) after they had started to bug me. After several miles of staying put, they suddenly self-ejected. I doubled back to get them and arrived just in time to watch an SUV run directly over the glasses as if the driver were aiming for them.

I can't really blame the driver though. In my review, I noted how the superlight frames were a bit flimsy so I probably should never have trusted them to stay put. The funny thing is, the whole reason I took them off was because the helmet I was wearing didn't fit well with the glasses, making them uncomfortable. Guess who makes the helmet? Uvex. Silly Germans.

Still, I'm amazed that they're not in more pieces.

Secret Agent Bike

The one bike in our shop that seems to attract the most attention from customers is the Ajax by Spot Brand Bicycles. Since we focus on the commuting niche, a lot of our bikes feature classic looks whereas the Ajax is striking with its modern lines and stealthy black finish. Upon closer inspection, people notice its internally-geared hub instead of a derailleur and a toothed belt that takes the place of a chain. The Ajax is really quite different from what most people are used to seeing.

If seeing the Ajax causes people to stop and stare, riding it may blow their minds. I got the opportunity to take the Ajax home for 24 hours and put it through its paces. Continuing on the stealth theme, I found that the combination of the Gates Carbon-drive belt and the Shimano Alfine 8-speed hub were almost dead silent. After my first few pedal strokes, it was perfectly apparent exactly why a belt drive is such a cool thing: it raises the bicycle to a new level of quiet sophistication. It's the bike that James Bond (either the Sean Connery or Daniel Craig versions, of course) would ride on his day off.  While on my way  home from the shop, it was a little too easy to be lulled into enjoying the silence of the bike and neglecting to call out my passes on the trail. Why blow my cover with a vulgar "On your left"?

Of course there is more to the Ajax than the whizz-bang drivetrain. Belts can be a little tricky to tension properly and require specific tools, so Spot smartly designed the frame so that you never need to re-tension the belt if you have to remove the wheel to fix a flat. The Ajax frame is aluminum and the fork is carbon fiber, both of which help to keep the weight down. The big 700c/29er wheels roll fast and smooth out rough pavement and Avid BB5 mechanical disc brakes adequately control the speed when (regrettably) necessary. As for the touch points, the saddle is well padded but narrower than those on most commuter bikes, but that's consistent with the rest of the components. The handlebars have a slight rise with minimal sweep and along with the stock 90mm long stem, tend to put you in a somewhat more aggressive position than most of the other bikes we carry. Still, the Spot's position is a long way from  that of a road racing bike or even a cross country mountain bike that are more familiar to me. It's perfect for those who want to go fast on their commute but still be upright enough to have a good view of the road.

On my all-too-short 24 hour test, I found that the Ajax is perfectly suited to my regular commute. The gearing was low enough that spinning up the steep hills around my house was easy. In fact, I could imagine loading the bike with a rack and panniers for trips to the grocery store or the farmers market and the gearing would still be adequately low for comfortably going uphill, even when loaded down. Fortunately, the Ajax comes with braze-ons for both racks and fenders, so if you wanted to turn it into an urban hauler, it's suited to the task. On the other hand, it was an awful lot of fun unladen. Beyond commuting, the Ajax was a blast on the local paths. It handles nimbly, so even an afternoon ride on the unpaved canal towpath wouldn't be beyond its abilities.

And that's one of the things that makes the Ajax a lust-worthy bike: its versatility. Combined with its subdued, classy aesthetic  and  its high tech drivetrain, the Ajax is an excellent choice for riders looking for a quick, sporty bike that's as adept at bringing home the groceries as it is at smoothly and quietly gobbling up the miles on a weekend ride.