I
was never really the type of kid to take my toys apart. I had always felt
overly cautious with my possessions, worried that one wrong move might damage a
belonging that could never be replaced. This feeling translated to disposable
objects too, like pens, as I distinctly remember taking ballpoint pens apart in
elementary and middle school and feeling guilty if I lost a spring or some
other essential part. That’s why it was a bit of a stressful and strange
experience for me to take apart the Mattel plastic train. Unscrewing the bottom
of the plastic carriages and spewing out the wired guts of the train’s power
supply even felt a bit sacrilegious, but I also felt giddy discovering the source
of the toy’s operation, as I gained a new understanding of how intricate and
complicated a children’s toy could be.
The class discussion centered on
ideas of knowing the origins of a made object and the maker movement more
generally. Being able to determine where an object came from and how it was assembled
was a fascinating way to approach this lesson via a hands-on activity, whereas formal
research is the typical method. I have learned right away that a central tenet of
making is that “un-making” is the quickest way to learn how to actually make
the object you are striving for. Tracing the object’s history and knowing how
it was assembled reveals key questions about modern labor, especially the fact that
many of our toys were made abroad in countries like China. Our last discussion
in class on the short film/commercial “American Maker” reflected on this
predicament, as the role of outsourcing in the manufacturing industry has
resonated in our times with the rise of Donald Trump. Are Americans really
making anymore? From the latest Dougherty reading, the answer appears to be
yes, but in astonishingly different ways.
Dougherty’s book essentially tells the
stories of makers he met in the Bay Area from all walks of life, and one story that
really captured my attention was the designing process for the Nomiku. Creating
a simple, cheap sous vide machine was an amazingly complicated and expensive
process, as the traditional design process for a consumer product was bypassed
entirely. The process reflects Dougherty’s assertion that the “twenty-first
century is seeing networks mostly replacing markets, social capital being more
important than financial capital, and the ownership of goods becoming less
important than access to those goods.” [1] Using the makers’ social presence to
jumpstart their crowdfunding Kickstarter campaign and being lax about ownership
rights generated both benefits and
drawbacks, as it allowed them more freedom in their design process but left
them vulnerable to setbacks from cutthroat competition and angry funders who
did not yet see a product. One of the most interesting aspects of this project
is that the makers invested heavily in getting their product made in Shenzhen,
China, an emerging innovation hub, which contrasted with the strictly American
identity of making and makers that we discussed last class. The fact that this
DIY project was being prototyped in the United States but manufactured in China
reveals that capitalistic production is not so easily subverted when cheap
labor is necessary. Tracing the origins of this object made me reflect on the
use of design and making for product motives, as I questioned, “Is it truly
possibly to revolutionize production when profit is a possible motive?” I wish
Doughery had focused on innovative maker-inspired projects that set its sights
on social good, rather than profit. To that end, profiling something like Liz
Gerber’s “Design for America” [2] would be fascinating look into how making,
innovation, and the subversion of the typical production process can lead to
productive and revolutionary social change.
[1]
[2]
http://designforamerica.com/
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