A Distorted Point of View
By JW
December 26th, 2019
December 26th, 2019
Editor’s Note: Though this site is focused on “long form writing about BMX culture and politics,” there is also space for cultural writing. This introspective short essay is a great example of the thinking and energy that this site hopes to stimulate.
Perception of surrounding environments takes many forms. For a dog, this may mean chasing the very particular scent of yesterday’s rodent to the farthest extremity of a field; for a bird this could mean following a particular gust of wind that blows under its wings in just the right manner to jettison directly to a moss covered oak that lays vacant and perched over the best feeding ground. As for the typical human, I actually don’t understand what daily perceptions everyday living may produce because my perception forever chases the concept of rideable objects. Rideable objects could be a perfect banked asphalt transition behind a bank that I drive by daily, the knurled end of a guardrail that rolls into the surface of the sidewalk, or a sideview of an everyday curb that bares even the slightest resemblance of a transition. This BMX-oriented perception can even blur the lines on everyday objects. The curves of your bathtub, the special shape of a curved lip that reaches to the top of your lunch tray, the wedge that makes up your neighbors rooftop, and even various furniture shapes in the office where you work all day drag themselves into the BMX-imagination’s eye. I know I am not the only one who finds themselves batting eyes along the highway, desperately and aimlessly searching for that ideal shape—looking deep down into grassy ravines and far off behind truck-ridden corporate parks. Through the endless transmission of our desires, objectives, and BMX obsession, our perspective has been permanently distorted to view the world in a different way.
This all reverts back to the original question: what would our perception be if we were just average humans? For some seekers such as photographers or artists, I feel we may share the same distorted perception. The photographer always chases that perfect sunset or some abandoned structure sitting just right where its shadow can cast on glistening dew covered grass. The artist is always seeking new material or patterns in everyday objects—like two complimentary items aligned in a very special way that give inspiration to a splendor of color on canvas. In historical times, this could have been the frontiersman who longed to live the tales of discovering missing silver and gold, hidden deep in caverns and along riverbanks. I can only imagine the chasing eyes tracing the surrounding landscape as the sunset pursued and then lighting up when a gleam of something recognizable took form. Take away the fulfilling analytical and searching perspective however, and alas, a blankness encroaches my mind. What if however, you didn’t have this distorted perception? Would you drive down the road and never think twice about the drainage ditch with the sub-ledge? The perfect flat rail at your high school? The brick transitions forming perfect quarter pipes along your dormitory? Do things just appear to continuously pass on by until you reach your destination, with no variation besides a Papa John’s or a Pizza Hut? These questions leave me with a lot of open thought about what life would be like had I never picked up a BMX bike. Perhaps there would be less meaning—or maybe there would be more, nonetheless, I am curious to how many other BMXers lives are propelled by this perspective.
Perception of surrounding environments takes many forms. For a dog, this may mean chasing the very particular scent of yesterday’s rodent to the farthest extremity of a field; for a bird this could mean following a particular gust of wind that blows under its wings in just the right manner to jettison directly to a moss covered oak that lays vacant and perched over the best feeding ground. As for the typical human, I actually don’t understand what daily perceptions everyday living may produce because my perception forever chases the concept of rideable objects. Rideable objects could be a perfect banked asphalt transition behind a bank that I drive by daily, the knurled end of a guardrail that rolls into the surface of the sidewalk, or a sideview of an everyday curb that bares even the slightest resemblance of a transition. This BMX-oriented perception can even blur the lines on everyday objects. The curves of your bathtub, the special shape of a curved lip that reaches to the top of your lunch tray, the wedge that makes up your neighbors rooftop, and even various furniture shapes in the office where you work all day drag themselves into the BMX-imagination’s eye. I know I am not the only one who finds themselves batting eyes along the highway, desperately and aimlessly searching for that ideal shape—looking deep down into grassy ravines and far off behind truck-ridden corporate parks. Through the endless transmission of our desires, objectives, and BMX obsession, our perspective has been permanently distorted to view the world in a different way.
This all reverts back to the original question: what would our perception be if we were just average humans? For some seekers such as photographers or artists, I feel we may share the same distorted perception. The photographer always chases that perfect sunset or some abandoned structure sitting just right where its shadow can cast on glistening dew covered grass. The artist is always seeking new material or patterns in everyday objects—like two complimentary items aligned in a very special way that give inspiration to a splendor of color on canvas. In historical times, this could have been the frontiersman who longed to live the tales of discovering missing silver and gold, hidden deep in caverns and along riverbanks. I can only imagine the chasing eyes tracing the surrounding landscape as the sunset pursued and then lighting up when a gleam of something recognizable took form. Take away the fulfilling analytical and searching perspective however, and alas, a blankness encroaches my mind. What if however, you didn’t have this distorted perception? Would you drive down the road and never think twice about the drainage ditch with the sub-ledge? The perfect flat rail at your high school? The brick transitions forming perfect quarter pipes along your dormitory? Do things just appear to continuously pass on by until you reach your destination, with no variation besides a Papa John’s or a Pizza Hut? These questions leave me with a lot of open thought about what life would be like had I never picked up a BMX bike. Perhaps there would be less meaning—or maybe there would be more, nonetheless, I am curious to how many other BMXers lives are propelled by this perspective.
Responses
Do you have something to add? Click the button above and get involved in the conversation.