Ferdinand Porsche: a man known for his mind, not his body. He was a brilliant engineer, founder of Porsche, designer of the Mercedes-Benz SSK roadster and the inventor of the Volkswagen Beetle. His life story is similarly intriguing. Born a Czech; a onetime chauffeur to Archduke Franz Ferdinand; later renounced his citizenship at Hitler’s urging; then fled to the Bavarian hamlet of Gmünd to escape Allied bombing. His biography, let’s just say, isn’t the cleanest. His status as a titan of 20th-century industry, however, is indisputable.
But have you seen his bust? You’ll find that Porsche’s bust is magnificent. It is snow white, fresh—unsullied by the grease or soot. Would you touch Ferdinand Porsche’s bust? It certainly seems touchable, even inviting. The man caressing the bust seems pleased, but sheepish. The sculptor, Knud Knudsen, has been caught touching his boss’s bust when he should have been working. Oh, Knud! You naughty aesthete. In fairness, Porsche’s bust is almost overwhelming in its pale shapeliness.
While you’re wishing that you could wrap Ferdinand Porsche’s bust in a large bear hug and squeeze it with all the love you have to give, maybe for now, you might be content simply to look. It’s the respectful thing to do.