A decade into the bicycle project, her passion has made her internationally known as “Janet Bike Girl.†Her commitment as an independent artist is visible everywhere one looks in her studio: it is criss-crossed with laundry lines full of cycling-themed T-shirt commissions that she can barely keep up with. As we talk, Attard recounts the Catch-22 of successful independent art: all of her stencilling is done by hand, a lengthy procedure from the design and cutting of stencils to the imprinting of T-shirts, handbags, and unique prints. The care she puts into her work is integral to its appeal.
Yet there is so much demand that Attard has trouble keeping up, and finds herself explaining to enthusiastic customers that they may have to wait weeks for a T-shirt. She reuses stencils until they break, but this non-mechanized method of “mass production†still seems likely to challenge the expectations of a public acclimatized to more immediate gratification. Nevertheless, Attard’s list of orders continues to grow.
The more ubiquitous her stencils of bicycles and cycling culture become, the less time she has to actually ride her upgraded 1970s old-fashioned women’s bicycle. When I met with her at her studio, her high-energy enthusiasm was peppered with fatigue. She is planning a vacation to France with Martin Heath from CineCycle, whose warehouse-like studio and screening space is next door to Attard’s own studio. Heath wipes bike grease off his fingers and prepares lattes (then offers to fix my front fender), as Attard and I pore over portfolios stuffed with clippings of the shows she has participated in.
Attard’s work has shown in Toronto, New York, and throughout Ontario. She designs the volunteer T-shirts for diverse Toronto art events such as Lift and Images Film Fest, and counts MuchMusic and NDP leader Jack Layton among her customers. She was also published in 99 Silhouettes, a collection of international stencil art. Occasionally, Attard tells me, she comes across her work unexpectedly – in media as various as blogging sites, momentum magazine, and the side of an art-van in New York City. “I’m really happy it’s out there,†she says, shrugging off concerns about copyright.
Attard reaps the benefit of such exposure through cycling activism: the more prevalent her bicycle imagery becomes, the more visions of bicycles will ride through the heads of the general public. Attard notes that the image of cycling has improved a lot over the last 15 years; yet car culture continues to dominate the visual landscape. “You see cars in commercials and movies all the time. There’s a lack of bike imagery out there. So little that people come into my studio thinking it’s a repair shop – any object with the image of a bike on it equals repairs in people’s minds.†The antidote for this one-track, car-centric thinking, Attard suggests, is to saturate society with depictions of bicycles, especially removed from traditional contexts.
“Wearing a bike T-shirt into, say, a bank, gets cycling imagery out there. Even if people hate bikes, even if they only look at the image for a second, it gets into their heads and raises consciousness.†She recounts how cycling activists in New York stencil her bicycle images onto public sidewalks. She usually discovers such usage haphazardly, and in spite of being a successful gallery artist, she doesn’t worry about permissions. This reflects her artistic philosophy – Attard moved into bicycle art after taking a step back from cycling advocacy work. Art, she implies, achieves what activism sometimes cannot: it unites instead of divides.