Archive for December, 2009

The Slow Creep of Monsters

Monsters are a part of our psychological life. In childhood we are afraid of them and as adults we turn our enemies into them (axis of evil, anyone?). Recently, Spike Jonze took on the monsters of childhood in his film Where the Wild Thing Are, based on the North American classic by Maurice Sendack. Although the monsters in the book are initially fearsome, Sendack empowers his little readers when the protagonist Max stares bravely into their yellow eyes, conquers them and becomes the king of the Wild Things.

During the last decade or so, our perception of monsters has gradually shifted. Instead of being something to fear or kill, they are also, in some cases, something we covet, that we want to become. The Twilight Series is a good example of this (though it’s preceded by the Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles, Angel from Buffy and others). Vampires, which are traditionally regarded as disgusting, rotting, flesh-eating villains, are now the dream date of young girls world wide. Instead of seeing them as monsters, cloaked in the bodies of beautiful boys and girls, we see them as not so bad; just a little bit misunderstood.

In a recent book published by Oxford University Press, Stephen Asma examines our history with monsters, chronicling the encounters that have happened across recorded history and delving into their psychology – why we create them and what purpose they serve:

Monsters embody our deepest anxieties and vulnerabilities, Asma argues, but they also symbolize the mysterious and incoherent territory just beyond the safe enclosures of rational thought. Exploring philosophical treatises, theological tracts, newspapers, pamphlets, films, scientific notebooks, and novels, Asma unpacks traditional monster stories for the clues they offer about the inner logic of an era’s fears and fascinations. In doing so, he illuminates the many ways monsters have become repositories for those human qualities that must be repudiated, externalized, and defeated. (source)

I would love to know how the world’s love affair with Twilight fits into this psychology.

Wisconsin Death Trip: Just In Time For Christmas?

Wisconsin2

When I was in my early twenties, an older friend leant me a book called Wisconsin Death Trip.  That particular copy was falling apart – the pages shuffled awkwardly against the spine – and seemed as old as its subject matter: a series of photographs taken between 1890-1910 by Charles Van Schaik, an American who learned photography after moving to Jackson County and thereafter spent fifty-seven years capturing small-town life in Black River Falls.

It sounds fairly dry, but the majority of the book concentrates on images of the deceased, which for some reason the good citizens of Black River Falls saw fit to dress and pose as though they were still alive.

The very idea sends chills down my spine, though the photos strike a peculiar balance between the macabre and the truly tragic (especially the portraits of young infants) which keeps you flipping through.

wisconsin1

To add another note of disconcertion to an already eerie discovery, the town that Van Schaik was in the midst of documenting was plagued by disease, madness, suicide, murder, addictions, business and farm failure, and an overall despair stemming from harsh living conditions – all of which seems to infiltrate even relatively innocent portraits.

The book itself, which was written in 1973 by Michael Lesy, has since been adapted into a film, which speaks volumes about the extensive resonance of this beautiful, ghostly text.

Images from Wisconsin Historical Society

Apple’s Glowy Computer Patent

Apple Glowing Computer Patent Illustration

Now, I’m a big fan of Apple products, but filing a patent application (2008) for a computer with a coloured bulb inside it might be pushing your luck. Also, with design supremo Jonathan Ive on their team, it seems a little strange that the patent illustrations seem to have been drawn by a five year old.

I, Keyboard

Industrialisation is a ‘process of ubiquitous rationalisation‘. Which is to say: it’s our response to things too big for our minds to grasp.

This was Henry Ford’s genius – a total disregard for reality, sensibility or reason. If you had a plan to build a car for everyone before roads, gas stations and, crucially, a middle class rich enough to pay for them, a little unreason would come in handy. His plant, The Rouge was, at one time, “easily the greatest industrial domain in the world.” George Bernard Shaw’s description of unreasonable men is entirely apt.

Fordlandia

Fordlandia, then

More than just mass-production, industrialisation is a state of mind. Ford’s led him to found Fordlândia, a pre-fabricated town built in the Amazon to supply his American factories with rubber. Fordlândia was a fiasco. Workers revolted. Plants succumbed to disease and pests.

But the more it failed, the more Ford justified the project in idealistic terms. “It increasingly was justified as a work of civilization, or as a sociological experiment,” One newspaper article even reported that Ford’s intent wasn’t just to cultivate rubber, but to cultivate workers and human beings.”

From: Fordlandia: The Failure Of Ford’s Jungle Utopia / US National Public Radio

These days, Fordlândia is another fable of our Taylorised minds with Ford cast in a role half James Bond villain and half Piggy from Lord of the Flies (although the arch-industrialist never visited, preferring to send in management consultants).

But industrialisation’s not always the bad guy. Atul Gawande describes the rise in popularity (30% and rising) of the Caesarian section in The Score. C-sections might seem a trickier, riskier proposition than their forerunner, the forceps delivery. But it’s relatively easy to teach an obstetrician how to perform them and they have a predicatable rate of success. Unlike the forceps method:

Just putting the forceps on a baby’s head is tricky. You have to choose the right one for the shape of the mother’s pelvis and the size of the child’s head—and there are at least half a dozen types of forceps. You have to slide the blades symmetrically along the sides, travelling exactly in the space between the ears and the eyes and over the cheekbones. “For most residents, it took two or three years of training to get this consistently right . . . Some residents had a real feel for it, others didn’t.

Forceps delivery is more of an ‘artisanal skill’ or, to put it another way, a craft.

Medical professionals had to make a choice – was obstetrics a craft, or an industry? Although some studies showed forceps deliveries to be often a better option, the rise of the C-section was a choice based on a specific trade-off between reliability and the ‘possibility of occasional perfection’. In medicine, a desire for perfection is as excessive as anything at The Rouge or Fordlândia. Childbirth has been industrialised.

Industrialisation starts off with these trade-offs (and other rationalisations) and progresses through a process of bootstrapping. Factories make tools, which you can, in turn, use to build better factories. Sooner or later, you end up with robots building robots. Industry refines itself. The jarring results of the trade-offs don’t disappear, but they do fade into the background. Fordlândia today is charming.

Fordlandia, today

Fordlandia, today

Clay Shirky has said, “Tools don’t get socially interesting until they get technologically boring.” Leonard Read explored this in his seminal 1958 essay, I, Pencil“:

I, Pencil, simple though I appear to be, merit your wonder and awe, a claim I shall attempt to prove. In fact, if you can understand me—no, that’s too much to ask of anyone—if you can become aware of the miraculousness which I symbolize, you can help save the freedom mankind is so unhappily losing. I have a profound lesson to teach. And I can teach this lesson better than can an automobile or an airplane or a mechanical dishwasher because—well, because I am seemingly so simple.

He goes on to explain ‘not a single person on the face of this earth’ knows how to make one, even though one and a half billion of them were made a year for kids, engineers and craftspeople. Kevin Kelly makes a similar point about webpages when he points out that they contain 100,000 inventions. Industrialisation is technologically boring.

At its core, it’s a failure to deal with reality. Ford, grappling with an out-sized vision of the future, built an organisation too big to comprehend. His version needed industrial-sized solutions, the intrinsically pathological constructs of the modernist corporation. Industrialisation 2.0 is failing to deal with reality in a different way.

There should be no way that a service company could have over 3 million customers with less than twenty employees. After a certain size, problems inevitably become industrial – when you reach the end-of-the-edge-case scale. But, evidently, industrial-sized solutions aren’t path-dependent. These are the first sub-Dunbar multi-national corporations.

When asked to make a choice between craft or industry, they’ve chosen both. Today’s unreasonable people are craftier.

[Images: Fordlandia, then is from a blog which most readers of The Januarist will enjoy - Iconic Photos. Fordlandia, today is from Wikimedia.]