I’ve written before – probably multiple times – about a certain kind of mid-century automotive brochure art style that combines a very tight and controlled rendering method for the cars, but for the people and scenes around the cars, a much looser, more impressionistic style is employed. I generally like this approach, but sometimes I think it can go a bit off the rails, like I think it has here in this 1967 Chrysler brochure.
I think what’s happening here has less to do with the visual art style itself and more about the tone of how everything is handled. The artist is really leaning into the loose brushwork and heavy impasto, and that’s great, but in some of these images it feels like the artist is pushing it all just a little too far, and even more than that, there’s this strange overarching, almost sinister feeling to everything.
Also, some of these are just confusing. Like this guy, standing next to a New Yorker:
This one threw me. It’s quite dark and mottled, and I really couldn’t figure out what the guy is holding or what he’s doing. At first I thought he was maybe shoving a chunk of meat onto a long skewer? That whatever by his hand is pretty beefy-colored, and he’s looking at it pretty intently, like one does with a chunk of beef. Is he smoking? Or are those teeth?
Eventually I realized that’s a golf club of some kind, and the dude is, what, inspecting it? Pulling off bits of blood and hair from when he just bludgeoned someone with it? I’m sorry to go so dark, but this all just feels like that!
Look at that guy; he seems like he smells like bourbon and cigarettes and resentment. He has real abusive dad energy. I’m not getting in his New Yorker, hell no.
Even the more intentionally warm or pretty illustrations take on a sort of melancholy tone. Here, the flowers and people are quite nicely rendered, but there’s no joy here, only what feels like brooding tension. The couple isn’t really looking at one another, her head is canted down and to the side, and he’s behind her, fingers wrapped around her upper arm in a way that feels slightly menacing. Something is off here.
I really like the dramatic composition of this spread with the black shadows and angles and there in between is our fencing duo. Let’s look at them a bit closer. Computer! Zoom and enhance!
They seem to be lost in thought. Not exactly brooding, but, like most of the people here, they’re looking down, lost in thought. Who did she just stab?
And here, it feels like we have the 1967 equivalent of some Mean Girls, looking at you and judging. I bet they say some devastating things when they think you’re not listening.
Also interesting is how automotive terminology has changed a bit; this colossal Town & Country is described as a “3-seat Wagon,” which today means it seats three people, but back then meant three physical seats themselves, and in this case, massive bench seats. In today’s parlance, we’d say that thing was a 9-seat, at least. I’m betting a whole minyan could fit in there.
Okay, one last detail: these wrap-around taillights are fantastic and a little strange. Usually we think of wraparound taillights as just wrapping around the outer corner of the car to form a side marker lamp, but here these lights are on these extended protrusions and wrap around the outside and inside. This does help with being visible at lots of angles, but it’s pretty unusual to see now.
Man, I hope that dude with the golf club stays far away from me.
My first thought was the dude is a musical conductor holding the baton in his right hand, gesturing angrily with his open hand at the second violin section, where all shenanigans begin in string orchestras.