The art world, for all its provocations and posturing, rarely collides with the grease-stained hands of the automotive underground. And yet, this July, in the cobbled heart of Shoreditch, London plays host to an event that aims to reframe this boundary. MotoArto, a first-of-its-kind exhibition, unapologetically positions the restomod-a once-maligned, now-celebrated symbol of modified automotive elegance, within the same cultural discourse as sculpture, street art, and performance.
Held at the Bike Shed from July 3–5, the three-day show is less a car event and more a manifesto: a multi-sensory celebration of the Outlaw genre, that elusive subculture where classic motoring heritage meets personal vision and unapologetic modification. Here, the lines between object and artwork, function and fantasy, are deliberately blurred.
At its core, MotoArto is about reframing perception. It is both homage and rebellion, a curated space where the gleam of polished metal meets the stroke of a paintbrush. World premieres from marquee restomod names like Thornley Kelham, Frontline Cars, and Renard will sit beside more than 20 emerging and established artists, each offering a creative re-interpretation of the automobile as medium and muse. Sculpture, moving image, installations and wall art will cohabitate, culminating in a live performance by celebrated artist Sophie Tea, who will live-paint a surprise car in real time, a spectacle where creation and combustion unite.
If the Outlaw movement, loosely defined by its celebration of personalised and often performance-enhanced classics, was once viewed as the domain of mechanical renegades, MotoArto brings it into the spotlight of curated critique. The show marks a cultural tipping point, legitimising the aesthetic merits of bespoke builds not only as objects of engineering but as canvases of self-expression.
Co-founders Marchella De Angelis and Kim Shaylor are keen to stress this fusion. De Angelis, both artist and petrolhead, has long championed the artistic legitimacy of the outlaw scene. Her 2024 feature documentary, The Outlaw in Me, received multiple nominations, including Best Feature Documentary at the International Motor Awards. “I’m not bored with the classics, and I still love a supercar,” she says, “I simply feel it’s time to embrace a wider cultural medium within the automotive arena.”
Shaylor, known for her subversive art platform Gone Rogue, brings curatorial rigour and a contemporary edge. Together, they present MotoArto not as spectacle but as statement, a rebuttal to the automotive world’s occasional nostalgia trap and the art world’s squeamishness around machinery.
Backing their vision is the Casmin Group, a UK-based enterprise that operates exclusively in the world of hand-built vehicles. Their support lends weight to a show that might otherwise risk being dismissed as niche. But the timing could not be better. The restomod market, once shunned by purists, is undergoing a renaissance. Collectors now speak of craftsmanship and storytelling; provenance is being redefined, not erased.
That shift, like the cars themselves, is not about abandoning heritage, but reframing it. And perhaps, therein lies MotoArto’s most compelling proposition: that in the hands of the right builder, or the right artist, a car is not simply restored, but reborn.
The implications go beyond aesthetics. MotoArto opens up questions about how we preserve the past while embracing new creative languages. It challenges us to consider whether the line between artisan and engineer is less relevant than we thought. And it offers a glimpse into a future where car shows, once the realm of concours judges and carbon fibre one-upmanship, might also become spaces of genuine artistic discourse.
If Shoreditch’s Bike Shed becomes, for a few days, the epicentre of this shift, it will be because MotoArto has tapped into something bigger than chrome and canvas. It is suggesting, with conviction, that the future of car culture might just lie in the freedom to imagine, and reimagine, what these machines can mean.
