Have you ever wondered what might result from a three-night hook-up between a zeppelin, an original BMW 507, and a BMW Z4 roadster? Neither have we, but now that we’ve seen the BMW GINA concept (pronounced jee-nah), we’ve got a pretty good idea, and it’s even sort of beautiful.
GINA is an acronym for “Geometry and Functions in ‘N’ Adaptations,” where the N stands for infinite—as if the acronym wasn’t enough of a stretch already. It’s a fancy way to summarize a way of thinking about how cars will be shaped, manufactured, and used by their owners in the future. The Light Visionary Model (LVM) is a physical manifestation of this idea, and features some innovative—and out there—approaches to making the philosophy a reality.
BMW says that this concept isn’t just about the styling of the car of the future, but also about the “creative freedom” offered to designers and engineers alike. To that end, this concept wears a fabric “skin” comprised of a wire-mesh inner stabilizing layer and a water- and temperature-resistant outer layer.
Instead of the usual myriad body panels, the LVM has just four outer elements: one that covers the entire front end and runs to the rear edge of the doors, two rear-quarter coverings, and one across the rear deck. BMW’s seat designers helped with the precise measurement, cutting, and attachment of the material, which is stretched over a mechanized electric and electro-hydraulic metal and carbon frame.
Wait—What’s Going On Here?
The headlamps are hidden until the driver turns them on, only instead of popping up cheesily, like an ’80s Pontiac Firebird, the skin opens to reveal BMW’s traditional round lights. Not that anything needs to open to see the light; the turn signals and taillights operate behind the fabric, shining through when activated. The eight-cylinder engine hides under a 1.6-foot-long slit that opens and closes in a manner that BMW likens to the top of an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.
As the fabric’s surface area doesn’t change as the structure shimmies beneath, something’s gotta give. In the case of opening the doors, the fabric piles up in planned and prearranged folds; when the BMW kidney grille widens to swallow more air, the side panels tense and add another character line.
Yes, Even the Seats are Weird
The LVM is as adaptable inside. The material from the rear deck runs over the rear bulkhead and covers the two seats, which only move into prime position once someone sits in them; at that point, a headrest rises and the rest of the interior readies itself for action by moving the steering wheel and gauges into place from what BMW calls an “idle position.”
BMW says that vehicles with this sort of adaptive functionality will help forge a stronger emotional bond between man and machine, and that the GINA philosophy will allow manufacturers to make cars with less model-specific tooling and hardware. Beyond the pragmatic implications that the GINA LVM represents for manufacturing and design, though, it also represents a return to the fanciful future-car stuff that dominated auto-show turntables of the 1950s and 1960s. Today, production-ready “concepts” only teach people to dream into next month, not next century. The LVM is weird, bizarre—and forward-thinking. And for that, we like it.
