INSTITUTIONAL FORMS & URBAN LOGICS

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The term nostalgia first appeared in history to describe an illness suffered by Swiss soldiers, now known as homesickness. Johannes Hofer coined the term in his 1688 medical dissertation, from the Greek nostos, meaning homecoming, and algos, meaning pain. As the 18th century progressed, nostalgia turned into a widespread diagnosis of a certain cultural malaise. Perhaps it is not coincidental that this expansion of the concept occurred in conjunction with a certain philosophical development purveyed first by Winckelmann followed by Hegel and Heidegger. This advance opened up a new sensibility for the question of origins, and allowed the present to be interpreted as a new kind of straying from the truth.1 Nostalgia is now defined as a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past. It plays a leading role in almost every aspect of modern society, infiltrating a range of disciplines and fostering a discourse surrounding the prevailing cultural norms of today.

The era of the smart phone, smart car and smart city has revolutionised modern life to a degree inconceivable to a person living as recently as the 1980s. This new mode of living has created a culture of incredible efficiency, rapid economic growth and enormous advancements in technology. Conversely, the resulting lifestyle has paved the way for a developing counter culture interested in nostalgia for slowness, inefficiency and imperfection. In the debate surrounding smart cities, Richard Sennett argues, “a great deal of research during the last decade, in cities as different as Mumbai and Chicago, suggests that once basic services are in place people don’t value efficiency above all; they want quality of life. If they have a choice, people want a more open, indeterminate city in which to make their way; this is how they can come to take ownership over their lives.”2 This, among other manifestations of nostalgia encourage us to constantly re-evaluate our position as a society.

Perhaps most interestingly, nostalgia’s permeation into object and craftsmanship in a range of disciplines and outputs suggests a return to labour intensive processes and a rejection of automation and the values of mass production. This raises questions regarding the viability of labour as leisure, self-sustainability and the value of time. With craftsmanship comes nostalgia for texture, a longing for imperfections and inefficiency ruled out by the era of industrialisation. A resurgence in interest for small-scale production such as urban farming, 3D printing and microbreweries implies a willingness to explore alternative methods and cycles relating to output and consumption of goods. This presents an opportunity to reconsider the current model of living in the metropolis with respect to manufacture, distribution and consumption of commodities.

The current state of affairs dictates that we have little connection to the material goods we own and consume. Our clothes are made in Bangladesh, our strawberries are grown in Spain and our bicycles produced in Taiwan. A push for investment in slow production methods and bespoke fabrication could encourage a less disposable relationship with what we consume. This degree of consciousness in regards to manufacture ultimately serves to progress the debate surrounding sustainability in a post-industrial society.

What may seem like nostalgia for a pre-industrial relationship between society and the goods it consumes, could in fact be understood as a comment on the correlation between value, time and productivity. Our economic system dictates that goods must be produced in the least amount of time in order to reduce costs, and maximise efficiency as well as profits. Nostalgia for a slow means of production and craftsmanship challenges this idea and implies a shift in thinking where less importance is placed on time based efficiency, while labour intensity takes precedence in the equation. In this paradigm, the concept of time acquires a currency-like quality, where slowness is valued above all else.

A focus on labour intensity as a critical component in the process of production coupled with a more liberal view of time allows for the emergence of a new sensibility wherein concept and creativity are granted superiority over the ideals of mass production. A change in attitude is occurring where trial and error, uncertainty and imperfection are heralded as positions worth exploring. This mirrors the Japanese worldview of Wabi-Sabi, an idea centred on the acceptance of authenticity and slowness. Its aesthetic is described as one of beauty that is imperfect, impermanent and incomplete.3

To ignore how far we’ve come in the field of technology would render this argument inconsequential, therefore advancements in new methods of fabrication must be considered in relation to the debate surrounding nostalgia in production. Rather than reverting to 18th century small scale and unsophisticated production, digital aided making techniques serve to revolutionise the conversation surrounding craft and object in modern society.

Modern day cottage industries are springing up in London, further implying a shifting consciousness in the realm of material goods and their respective life cycles. The Cottage Project, based in New Cross Gate aims to promote the quality and craftsmanship of cottage industry produced food, home ware, textiles, apparel, furniture, and art, connecting people to the products they make, use and buy.4 Their in-house events consist of workshops, talks, exhibitions, and classes to engage local people in the making process. Sam Jacob, the founding director of FAT architecture describes Blackhorse Workshop in Walthamstow as a place “you can escape your role as a mere spectator by getting involved in the gritty act of putting stuff together.”5 He claims, “If the Maker revolution is happening anywhere, it’s here.”6 These initiatives have set a precedent for batch production and contemporary craft in the city while celebrating and supporting a community of makers.

The London Plan, a development framework prepared by the Greater London Authority, sets out a series of aims in relation to Strategic Industrial Locations (SILs), stating that “the Mayor will and boroughs should promote, manage and protect SILs […] as London’s main reservoirs of industrial and related capacity.”7 Dr Jessica Ferm and Edward Jones from the Bartlett School of Planning argue that, “smaller manufacturers whose work cannot easily be replicated overseas are flourishing and the UK remains the 6th largest exporter on the planet.”8 Industrial land also accommodates diverse industrial activities and infrastructure aside from manufacturing, as well as small creative and service sector businesses, voluntary and community organisations, who benefit from the relative affordability and flexibility of premises on industrial land, which are increasingly difficult to find elsewhere given London’s rampant property market. Together these activities provide vital support to London’s economy and residents, and contribute to London’s diversity, vibrancy and overall status as a World City – as London continues to grow, it will need more of these goods and services.9

Nostalgia’s inherent fixation with the past could be seen to create a problematic hindrance in our ability to advance as a society. We now often cloak the new in the forms of yesterday, even when these forms no longer serve any purpose except as wistful reminders of a world gone by. However, we must endeavour to explore a productive form of nostalgia that has the ability to generate a contemporary narrative surrounding life in the modern city. The value of nostalgia for slowness and making cannot be undermined, as John Cage put it, “I was explaining at the New School that the way to get ideas is to do something boring. For instance, composing in such a way that the process of composing is boring induces ideas. They fly into one’s head like birds.”10