Between the Races: Damien Basset

If you have the new (October/November) issue of Road Racer X, you may have seen our “5 Minutes With” interview of Ducati designer Damien Basset, the man behind the Streetfighter. As promised in the magazine, here are the outtakes from that interview.

RRX: How did the Streetfighter start out?
Damien Basset: It was technically based. It was evident that the 1098 engine and frame were working well—it was our top-of-the-line race bike—so that was the base. We started thinking about what we could do with it, doing some 3D mock-up development for the proportions, and some sketches—that lasted for one year. We did some pictures for a design brief—Why was a Streetfighter a good bike to make, and why would people like it?—and tried to convince them. The 1098 was winning races and was such a gorgeous bike; we knew a naked version could be exciting, and a lot of people were excited about the project. When we took off all the bodywork, it was quite obvious that it wasn’t going to be easy to invent a whole new design language around it; it had to still be a 1098, because that was its core, but we wanted to make its pissed-off little brother.

Was it a challenge?
Motorcycle design is all about layout—the first thing you see are the proportions, and in a fraction of a second, they define the character, just like a person’s bone structure. You cannot hide volume with lines or anything. You also want to show as much as you can, but you have to reorganize things so that the proportion works and things don’t stick out too much. I presented the bike as a mock-up model, as tiny as I could—we wanted it as short as a Speed Triple, but recognizable as a 1098. I said I wanted 160 kilos [350 lbs.] and 160 horsepower—a 1 to 1 ratio—and that I wanted to carry it home like a minibike. That got their attention.

What was your inspiration?
The bike is quite divided in two: there’s the mechanical part, which is all about function and superbike, and then there’s the top part, which is bodywork. For the bottom part, racing is what inspired me, because the front brake had to look like Casey Stoner’s front brake, and you had to see the engine and the bolts—but we didn’t have to cover anything. We wanted to make it essential, and as light as possible. That’s not the position of the designer to say that, but I told them, “If I go overboard with the design, you have to tell me, because we don’t want to put too many grams on the bike.” That was a strong character of the bike—no compromise in power or planning.

Ducati has had some legendary engineers and designers over the years. Is that at all intimidating?
No, it’s cool. I think it’s a great chance, and all the people you work with live motorcycles and Ducati. For them, it’s normal—they’ve been there for ten years or whatever—so you just come in and work. I guess there’s a lag, and then after a while, you’re part of the group. When the race is won on Sunday, everybody’s happy, and when race is lost on Sunday, you move your meetings because they’re going to be pissed off [laughs]. You’re a part of it, and it has evolved over time, but it’s the same. The bikes are what keeps the company on redline and keeps ideas coming—whoever’s in the company feels very connected to the products; as soon as you go in the doors, you’re in it. There’s no pressure; you’re working at Ducati, so you want to do good—everybody has the passion for it. People say, “Oh, you’re designing bikes!” but being a little professional, you draw motorcycles all day long, and then you model them, then you play Lego with parts, and weld stuff, and discuss with really expert people that know their engineering down to the last detail—it’s all fun.

In the past, Ducati engineers and designers were almost celebrities. Now, it seems a little more anonymous.
It was an engineering company, so it took some time to pass from engineering—Massimo Tamburini—and to take on its vision in aesthetics. In the very beginning, there was no such thing as a designer; it was making bikes—putting stuff together. As time progressed, design became a profession. I think it was like this in every industry. It’s part of the process now, and the more it goes, the more it’s integrated. You’re a part of it from the beginning, and you have opinions; you kind of have responsibility for the way it’s going to look—and function, also, because there’s a relationship to the user. You decide to push the envelope a little ahead, to make things happen, because you’ve seen it somewhere else and you have a broader vision; it’s not just about making it better, faster, lighter—it also has to be good-looking. In that way, we have pressure.

You must work very closely with the engineering department.
Oh, yeah. It’s like a team: you meet in the morning to change some bolts or discuss a sketch. We were involved with the technical team from the beginning; it’s always like a ladder [in that] we pass each other information as we advance. The engineers are present at the beginning, and we discuss where we’re going to put the battery, for example. It’s all about that layout, the core architecture of the bike—we kind of build around that. It becomes very difficult: sixteen liters of fuel, fifteen meters of electric cables, airboxes are getting bigger because of restrictions, exhausts are getting enormous, but people still like really compact, tiny-looking motorcycles—that’s what I like! Even with phones, everything is getting really miniaturized. Now, with a computer, you can simulate a lot; you don’t have to do it all in the shop at the beginning. As a designer, we sometimes feel like an engineer, because we’re constantly asking for the latest footpeg or the latest bracket, or wheels, and asking if the engine is in the right position. We update each other’s files like this, and we get the sketch really close to the layout. The more time you take, the less time they’ll have to test it or think out all the little bugs that can happen in production. Now the development is getting compressed, but you also have to realize that it has to be right. Everything is controlled; you don’t hear people say anymore, “Oh, we don’t have to design that; you can’t see it.” Whether you can see it or not, if something’s sticking out, people will notice right away, and they won’t be happy about it.