Construction of One (Fragment)
Göteborg Biennale, 2011
Liam Gillick
First a few words from Ake Sandberg:
November 4 1992, Volvo announced the closing-down of its innovative plants in Kalmar and Uddevalla. These plants have become worldwide symbols of the possibility of combining high productivity and rewarding jobs. Does the closure of Kalmar and Uddevalla mean the end of a European, socio-technical alternative within the industry? Does “Toyotism” mean the end of history in industrial organization?
No. The performance of the Uddevalla plant was according to Volvo management equal to that of its conventional Torslanda plant in Gothenburg when the closing-down was announced. All three assembly plants in Sweden were approaching European performance levels. Uddevalla’s potential for further improvement in quality and assembly time seemed great, even more so in the area of marketing and customer orientation of production. The Uddevalla production model is thus a viable alternative, besides the Toyota production system, “Toyotism” or “lean production” as its ideal type is called in the US bestseller The machine that changed the world. Today’s situation is contradictory and open, and the features of post-Fordism are still not fully developed.
In fact, Construcción de Uno could also mean Building Oneself (Construcción de Uno Mismo would be the complete way of saying it, but construcción de uno would suffice) Construyendo uno is building one (as in the process of) Construcción Uno is building One (as in edifice number one) I feel that the answer to the question have you built a red thing? Is harder to answer in Spanish in order to get the exact same double sense you want in English… Keep me posted as to how this progresses.
Come close, come close. It’s the chance of your life. Come. Come. I am here, I am here. I have arrived.
You are in stagnation. In misery. It’s finished. I am here. Not only will I bring you opportunities. But glory too.
You search for work? I bring it to you. What work! The most beautiful, the most noble. For the greatest glory of your patriotism, for your nation.
You are going to build cars!
The bad luck that as afflicted your region. I am here to repair this injustice. And you, the young. It is you who I address. Beautiful, strong. Like young Turks. (We have some of those already!) I can’t let you vegetate here.
And what to I demand for all this?
A tiny signature.
“Are there unions here?”
Unions?
“Are you well paid here?”
A fortune!
You can become a shareholder and participate in the benefits of this enterprise.
“Where do you find this car factory?”
In the most beautiful region of France.
Sochaux in Franche-Compte.
“And the accommodation?”
For single people there is a castle!
“And leisure?”
Leisure?
We have everything.
Parties, pinball. There are women. Dances. Football. Fishing. Boating.
Victory my darling!
Victory my children!
Oh my God!
Drink! Victory! Drink! Victory! DRINK!
I am interested in the cone shaped gap that you could argue is perceivable in the trajectory between modernity and modernism. Modernity leading to both Wal-Mart and memory sticks on one hand and modernism as a kind of “circling the drain” complex of striated and layered forms of self-referentiality which at the same time attempts a way to envision creating continual and endless possibilities of critique in relation to modernity, modernism or any of its late and post iterations. What I am actually interested in is this coned shaped gap between the two, more than one or the other. So with this suspicion of transparency, it means that I am very suspicious of structures that merely reflect back what the dominant culture already knows. One of the big problems is when you have cultures (like the US or UK) that deny sweeping enforced changes on a social level in favour of purely communal, community or spontaneous community models as agents of change, what happens then is you have an increasing growth of the cone shaped space. You have more space to play in this cone shape, as the gap gets bigger between modernity and modernism. The critical potential of late modern positions in opposition to the trajectory of modernity gets further and further away. But if you look at the cone you have concurrently more area to play in, so you get this pay off all the time. In order to make the gap between modernity and modernism smaller you’re going to have to get rid of some apparent (neo-liberal) freedoms that can lead to communal models or community based models.
So this is how it begins. As you approach the end of town, the lights are no dimmer than they were in the centre. They merely appear to be spaced further apart. There is no noticeable decline in the apparent wealth in this area or increase in the degree to which people are engaged in marginal activities. The spacing between buildings remains constant, yet some of them appear larger while accommodating the same number of people who might live in the much smaller houses towards the centre of town. Small details indicate such a shift such as the number of parked cars, the number of toys left out in the grass and the number of mailboxes. We’re are in a well cared for environment, where people pay taxes at a reasonably high rate, yet see quite precise returns for their contributions. They need to see results. It is very important that they can see something concrete that shows social work in return from their taxes. It makes them happy to know that their sense of community is boosted by concrete action. There have been times in the past when life was difficult here, when there was a long wait for spring and winter brought depression and struggle, but over the last hundred years modern life has brought advantages and relative prosperity to this place. While people are careful not to flaunt it they have to witness it being applied to the cityscape and the conditions under which they live. We are looking back from this present wander through the dark streets of the small city, towards the activities of a group of people who once worked in a relatively experimental factory there. We will follow their development and thoughts following the recent closure of the plant. While the primary activity of the factory was to produce objects, the means of production were intended to alleviate what had been identified as the most destructive aspect of life on the traditional production line.
This was a period under which I was brought up. I was brought up at a time when my grandfather was a coal miner who didn’t want them to close down the coalmines, but who didn’t want me to be a coal miner either. In fact the option seemed quite alien. You have classic late industrial paradox; you don’t want a thing to go, but you don’t want people to be doing the thing you don’t want to do. You cannot imagine, you have a complete dispersal and a total evaporation of the image of working people, because you cannot envision the people you would like to see working in the place, in place of the people who strive to keep it going.
Somehow it has evolved that most of the people working in the factory feel that they have an investment in the place. Many of the managers come from the local area and the same schools as the workers on the production line. However, there is little sense of overwhelming hierarchy at work here, just the feeling that some people are better at organising and some would rather work with their hands. There are an equal number of men and women and the few recent immigrants in the community were also welcomed and well represented at the factory. Some people are in wheelchairs and some cannot see and some cannot hear. The company always encouraged everyone who wanted to work there to come and do so. Some like to work in a way that means they have to worry and think outside the workplace, others like to arrive, work and then go home without reflecting a great deal about what happened and what will come next.
As the snow started to fall. Three people were seen. They walked one behind the other. It has been colder. Today there was the sense that a thaw was coming, in the distance was a large building. Light could be seen from gaps in the structure. You couldn’t describe the gaps as windows. The prior clarity of the structure had been disturbed, by new openings cut at irregular intervals across each face of the building. The true scale of the structure was hard to read. Until you came close the building was hard to define. The surrounding landscape held no markers. Nothing existed in order to judge scale or size. The three people kept walking. There was nothing to talk about during this long trek. We follow them as they walk. And over time they provide a sense of scale. The true mass of the building soon revealed itself. The size of the cuts in its facade now troubling and excessive. Great tears and raw holes breaking through. Yet the structure remained. Perforated in haste. Revealing now people moving slowly inside. No-one reacting to the approach of the three. Everyone used to the idea of some new arrivals. Walking slowly through the snow. Now inside the building. There are traces of a production line. The people moving around the space are hard at work. Yet rather than using the place as a site of production, they are methodically dismantling everything. Neat piles of machine parts. Stacks of piping and conduit. Barrels of coolant, lubricant and machine oil. In the centre now there was a clear space. Seating had been improvised. Along with large tables. And low slung lighting. Surrounding this area, large screens had been erected. On these screens, a mass of text and notation and plans. A complete explanation of what might be done. An improvised analysis of the potential of future production. Attempts to resolve all material relationships. Such an effort. Such precise calculation. An inventory of previous production. Many hours had been spent regretting the early bonfire, that had been fueled by notes and comments from earlier times. They used to work in teams. Now they work in a large group. At times they work alone. Trying to create an archive of all previous working methods.
