I agree that the Alante design has held up well but really wonder if a fundamental problem was that the platform was fwd while the targeted SL was rwd. The buyers probably couldn't tell the difference in driving dynamics but the perception may have outweighed that. Can you talk about the program definition as it related to the target of the SL and how GM/Cadillac management perceived that? The XLR has to be an interesting story too. Take a proper chassis with some retuning and re-clothe it. Still could not make a dent in the SL market (at least that is how I perceive it). Even at introduction the California was targeting the SL as part of the dealer briefing. Their idea was that there were SL buyers, especially the V12 ones, that could afford more and desired more exclusivity.
The XLR is pretty cool. Bit of a shame they never put an LS engine in it though, it had much less power than the C6 while weighing more. I think it'd have done better if it had the same powerplant... weight would have been ok for luxury with the same power. All the best, Andrew.
The XLR was a unique case. Cadillac/GM had squandered the Cadillac brand over many years of missteps and needed a complete reboot for the brand and its design language. While the Allante was an attempt to garner sales and attention from the MB SL Roadster, the XLR was the result of Cadillac trying to reestablish its very being. No vinyl tops or gaudy chrome. The Evoq was a Concept vehicle that was developed as the future of Cadillac Design "Art & Science" language . The belief was a 2 seater would be the form that would be best suited to showcase the new design vocabulary. The Evoq was designed and made its debut at the NAIAS in 1999. Concurrently the Cadillac Production was developing the first gen CTS Sedan. It made its debut in Jan. 2002 as a Sedan only entry. This was the first Art & Science interpretation for production. The XLR went into production in '03 as an '04 model. The XLR came close to representing the Evoq, but some thought it missed the mark in its execution. As Andrew pointed out it had less power than the Vette, but I personally don't think that was the issue. And Jeff's argument about the Allante being FWD was negated with the RWD XLR. Customers can be a fickle lot. The XLR had an opportunity to make its mark against the SL, but never achieved much success. The 'whys' can be debated forever, but a brand like the SL is such an icon, with a strong loyalty, it's a tough assignment. Lexus has tried and failed as well to dethrone the SL. Such is customer loyalty. Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login
I think even Ferrari tried to compete with the SL, and did pretty well with the California with around 8000 being sold. The Maserati 4200 when Maserati was still owned by Ferrari also made an attempt but succeeded in making the 4200 to softly sprung, although they did sell 4000 Spyders and 9000 coupes from 2002-2006.
Sorry, 10,900 California's produced from 2008. So maybe they did take some sales as SL sales went down alot around that time.
Mr. Sketchmonkey talks about the design of the 2 new Lotus' I have to agree with him on the latest interior designs for EVs
Saw this today for sale on FB. Never seen one before, Japanese mkt only. Very cool with the Allante/XLR discussion.1991 Mazda Cosmo Eunos Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login
Famous designer icon Peter Brock taks about the importance of clay in the design process. Peter Brock: The lost art of clay design models Image Unavailable, Please Login By Peter Brock Jan 14, 2023 | Column, Peter Borck, Clay Model, Desgin | Posted in Columns | From the March 2013 issue | Never miss an article Image Unavailable, Please Login [Editor's Note: This article originally ran in the March 2013 issue of Classic Motorsports.] I recently started a new clay model in our shop as part of a project to redesign a classic AC Aceca coupe. I hadn’t realized that there was so much interest in the venture until the word got out among my car-guy friends and they began stopping by to take a look at this archaic art form. It’s evident by their fascination with the process that something has been lost since the days that car design was such a hands-on process. Working as an independent automotive designer most of my life, I’ve had the rare opportunity to work with some of the finest craftsmen and engineers in the world. Starting out at age 19 at GM Styling (that’s what it was called back in 1956 when then-VP of Design Harley Earl ran the show as his own personal fiefdom), I was fortunate enough to acquire some basic skills from the best collection of designers, artisan craftsmen and design execs in the industry. All those old-timers—like wild man Bill Mitchell, who took over from Earl—are gone now, but their freely given knowledge, advice and techniques are still the practical and mental tools I carry with me and use today. Image Unavailable, Please Login Beginning at GM Styling was rather like starting at the top, but after that, whether working in Medardo Fantuzzi’s tiny carrozzeria in Modena, Italy, or with master metalsmiths like Emil Diedt at Troutman-Barnes in Culver City, California, or with Don Borth and Red Rose building the TR250K for Kas Kastner of Triumph, I kept on acquiring new skills that were, ironically, already becoming dated as the industry forged ahead, always focused on making things faster and more efficiently for the world of production design. The hands-on art of creating a singular elegant automotive shape using traditional methods somehow kept fading away as the world advanced with ever more sophisticated computer-aided devices. Not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with complexity, but at the cost of losing those basic skills, one has to wonder if it’s really been worth it. While at GM I used the most sophisticated equipment then available, but today only a few of the old guard remember what those were. Full-sized, metal-surfaced drawing tables with milled pencil-groove grids that had to be kept at constant warmth so carefully drawn dimensions wouldn’t change with temperature were the standard. Even the paper used on those tables was required to cure for several hours before use so it could stabilize. Today, almost everything is on screens or even full-sized projections. This era’s fantastic electronic wizardry is the perfect solution for huge corporations with design programs intended for mass production, but it’s useless technology for would-be designers who can’t afford the cost of such equipment to create a one-off concept. Take the art of sculpting a concept in clay. When Earl introduced the medium to the world of automotive design at GM back in the ’20s, it was considered a pretty radical departure from the traditional three-view engineering that had been perfected by the industry’s skilled draftsmen of the early ’20s. In time, though, clay completely altered the process of automotive design—much as computers have changed the way things are done today—but the cost and technology involved wasn’t so different that it couldn’t be easily utilized by individuals with the passion to begin on their own. Clay models are still “sculpted” by hand in several of the world’s major automotive design studios, but now most of the work is done by computer-driven, high-speed, five-axis mills carving foam. The whole process of carefully creating a new form by hand is being lost, as new ideas are created on screen and directly transferred to the machines that do in hours what used to take days of carefully detailed handwork. It’s the loss of that coordinated hand-and-eye work in clay that affects so much of modern automotive design. I see those errors in metal on the road every day. The art of car design is being replaced by the necessity to compress time to meet ever more stringent deadlines. The laborious process of applying clay to an armature and then carefully sculpting that surface benefits the final form because of the constant scrutiny from every angle as the form emerges from what first began as an amorphous lump of mud. That critical design process can’t be duplicated on a screen, as clay doesn’t lend itself to speed. Even if it did, speed isn’t the essence of great design. It requires the luxury of time to savor the variants of form. Even sketches and beautifully hand-rendered concepts have given way to electronic presentations. Even with the ability to view such well-crafted forms in rotating virtual 3D on a screen, it’s still in two dimensions. Clay offers the classic alternative. I still savor my hours spent on a large drawing board or working in clay. Adjusting light on a panel’s surface by adding a few thousandths of an inch of clay can make a subtle difference that can’t really be fully appreciated on screen. If a project isn’t too far along, I usually offer my guests the opportunity to smear on some hot clay and then carve off some cooled material so they can experience what it’s like to work in this almost obsolete but still valid medium. There’s something very satisfying about working in clay because the process offers infinite opportunities for change and refinement. Every designer soon learns that a rushed detail that becomes compounded by the thousands in production is hard to live with, especially when they see it again in myriad colors on the highway where others can critique it as well. It becomes a lesson never forgotten. I rather like being a dinosaur
Is the technology far enough along for the industry to consider printing out 3-D design models in 1:8, 1:2, and 1:1 scales?
Certainly the tech is there. They already use 3D printing to make parts for the interior models. The beauty of clay is the ability to make rapid changes. For years, the Italian coach builders used plaster, then they discovered the advantages of clay. For final presentation models maybe 3D models would make sense. When I was teaching at the College for Creative Studies, the students were 3D printing their wheels and small parts for their models. Image Unavailable, Please Login
Always loved the XLR. I think the problem wasnt with the XLR, but that no one could compete with the MB SL at that time. Sometimes you have to wait until your competitor gets a little exhausted before stepping in to fight.
I think that customer is so ingrained into that brand, it’s almost impossible to dethrone that car. Maybe the right product at the right time, but the Allante & XLR fell short in a number of areas.
XLR didn't really mean anything (except maybe to Ford in the '60's?) - you'd mentioned management having disregarded design equities w/the PF Allante - maybe marketing was doing somewhat likewise here? What if Caddy had called the XLR the Biarritz (or something like that)? Nobody else could. Sure, this was near enough to "not your father's Olds" era - so maybe offer a 3-pedal version as w/the 'vette, to broaden interest? Something neither Caddy nor MB were doing at the time. May've ultimately sold some extra automatics, too?
Agree that the XLR naming wasn't exactly memorable, but that was a period where Cadillac walked away from 'names' and embraced the German practice of alpha-numeric names. A path not many of us embraced. But calling it Biarritz I don't believe would have been correct. The XLR was about as far from those old Caddy names as one might get. Monday morning quarter backing is always so easy. Whether or not a manual trans would have made any difference is open to debate. I personally don't think it would have made a difference. And I'm the guy that ordered a manual 430 Ferrari. Less than 5% IIRC.
