Posts Tagged ‘commerce’
“He is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication”*…
We’ve looked before at digital regimes that seem a little too close for comfort to Jeremey Bentham‘s notion of the Panopticon. Surveillance has continued to intensify. 404 Media’s Jason Koebler and Joseph Cox bring us up to speed…
It’s nearly impossible not to be watched these days. It can start right at home with your neighbors and their Ring cameras—a company that sold fear to the American public and is now integrating AI to turn entire neighborhoods into networked, automated surveillance systems.
Head out a bit further and you’ll likely be confronted by Flock’s network of cameras that not only track license plates, but also track people’s movements with detailed precision. And as the Trump administration raids cities across the U.S. for undocumented immigrants, tech giants like Palantir are powering tools for ICE, including one called ELITE that helps the agency pick which neighborhoods to raid.
To better understand what exactly we’re looking at in this dystopian hellscape, 404 Media’s Jason Koebler and Joseph Cox joined r/technology for an AMA.
Understandably, people are worried about violations of their privacy by companies and the government. And many wonder, is there any way to go back once we’ve released all this AI-powered, surveillance tech?…
The (lightly edited for clarity) transcript is a bracing– but critically-important– read: “From Flock to ICE, Here’s a Breakdown of How You’re Being Watched,” @jasonkoebler.mastodon.social.ap.brid.gy and @josephcox.bsky.social in @404media.co.
* “Bentham’s Panopticon [at top] is the architectural figure of this composition. We know the principle on which it was based: at the periphery, an annular building; at the centre, a tower; this tower is pierced with wide windows that open onto the inner side of the ring; the peripheric building is divided into cells, each of which extends the whole width of the building; they have two windows, one on the inside, corresponding to the windows of the tower; the other, on the outside, allows the light to cross the cell from one end to the other. All that is needed, then, is to place a supervisor in a central tower and to shut up in each cell a madman, a patient, a condemned man, a worker or a schoolboy. By the effect of backlighting, one can observe from the tower, standing out precisely against the light, the small captive shadows in the cells of the periphery… He is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication. – Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison
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As we feel seen, we might recall that it was on this date in 2000, that the dot.com bust effectively began. Between 1995 and its peak five days earlier, on March 10, 2000, investments in the Nasdaq Composite stock market index rose from 1,006 to 5,048—a 400% gain fueled by the conviction that the internet would render every prior valuation framework obsolete. It did not.
On March 13, 2000, news that Japan had once again entered a recession triggered a global sell off that disproportionately affected technology stocks. Soon after, Yahoo! and eBay ended merger talks and the Nasdaq fell 2.6%; still, the S&P 500 rose 2.4% as investors shifted from strong performing technology stocks to poor performing established stocks. The market held steady on the 14th. Then, on this date 26 years ago, the broader market begin to drop… and kept dropping. By the end of the stock market downturn of 2002 (the “second chapter” in the correction that began in 2000), stocks had lost $5 trillion in market capitalization since the peak. At its trough on October 9, 2002, the NASDAQ-100 had dropped to 1,114, down 78% from its peak. It took 15 years for the Nasdaq to regain its March, 2000 peak.
“Stand firmly in the present and focus on the future”*…
In a widely-cited article from May, Gillian Tett marks a fundamental shift– accelerated by the Trump administration, but underway beforehand:
… in the 20th century free-market intellectual framework — which is the one in which most western professionals built their careers — it was generally assumed that rational economic self interest ruled the roost, not grubby politics. Politics seemed to be derivative of economics — not the other way around.
No longer. The trade war unleashed by US President Donald Trump has shocked many investors, since it seems so irrational by the standards of neoliberal economics. But “rational” or not, it reflects a shift to a world where economics has taken second place to political games, not just in America, but many other places too…
…this phenomenon is not simply about one man (Trump), but rather marks a much bigger turning point in the intellectual zeitgeist — of a sort we have seen a few times before.
One such shift occurred just over a century ago, when the globalist, Imperialist vision of capitalism that reigned before the first world war was displaced by nationalist, protectionist policies. Another came after the second world war, when Keynesian economics took hold. Then, in the 1980s, free-market neoliberal ideas displaced Keynesianism.
The fact that the intellectual pendulum is now swinging again, towards more nationalist protectionism (with a dose of military Keynesianism), thus fits a historical pattern — although few predicted that the swing would take quite this form…
… one important facet of this zeitgeist shift is that governments are no longer “just” focused on their country’s absolute wellbeing, but on their relative positions too. This distinction might sound subtle. But it matters deeply, as a paper co-authored by Aaditya Mattoo, a World Bank economist, along with Michele Ruta and Robert Staige, spells out.
That is because an “absolute welfare” mentality supports trade co-operation, but unravels “if rivalry eclipses any consideration of own- country wellbeing,” the authors say. Trump’s angry rhetoric about America being “ripped off” by competitors, in other words, reflects a bigger mental shift… an (obvious) factor behind this rivalry is that China is now challenging America’s incumbent dominance…
It’s worth reading Tett’s piece in full (gift link)– and noting that the real-world evidence supporting her thesis is clear. Here, let us look more closely at China. Adam Tooze offers a primer– all-too-appropriate to Tett’s argument– on how to see China’s historic development through the veil of macroeconomics…
In the global economic conjuncture there are few if any factors more important than the state and future prospects of China’s economy. In purchasing power parity terms, it is the largest economy in the world, with a 20 percent share of global GDP. Measured in terms of current exchange rates, China comes second to the US.
China impacts the world economy as a huge market for exports from other countries. China’s imports range from raw materials, to Europe’s luxury brands. The share price of LVMH, Europe’s largest company by stock market valuation, bobs up and down in response to the spending patterns of Chinese women, the world’s most rapidly growing segment of luxury consumers.
China’s exports are a huge part of global markets. And when China’s domestic demand is less buoyant, there is a surge of anxiety about “excess capacity”, the pressure of exports increases and we start talking about “China shocks”.
In the macroeconomic balance, as discussed in World Economy Now of May, China’s huge surplus is the counterpart to the huge deficit of the USA.
China’s currency is pegged against a basket of other world currencies. This is backed up by some of the more effective capital account regulation in the world economy today. Funds cannot easily be transferred out of China on a large scale. So, there is structural uncertainty about what the exchange rate of the RMB should be. The trade account would suggest stronger. The scenario of mass capital flight in the event of a loosening of capital controls would suggest a much weaker currency, as happened during the crisis episode of 2015. A sudden adjustment in the Chinese exchange rate has the potential to destabilize the world economy as severely as Trump’s trade wars.
For all of these reasons, China is at the heart of global macroeconomics.
And there are a lot of news to be concerned about…
[Tooze reviews the decline in China’s growth rate…]
… But as useful as it is, this macroeconomic approach also minimizes the drama of history and qualitative transformation. China’s economy is huge because it encompasses the material destiny of one sixth of humanity. In the 1970s, China’s national income per head was less than that of Sudan and Zambia. It was not just the most populous country in the world but also one of the poorest. China’s ascent during the age of globalization is not just one economic story amongst many. It is the single most dramatic development in world economic history, bar none…
… Today, with a per capita GDP in purchasing power parity terms of $24,569, China is officially classed as an “upper middle-income” economy. It has far outstripped India (which in 1990 was still ahead of China). It has overtaken Indonesia. It has surpassed Brazil and caught up with Mexico. China is now on the cusp of being promoted to the ranks of the “high-income” countries…
… So here we have two images of China: One, as a big part of global macroeconomics, the other as a world historic development story. The trick is not to play these two accounts against each other, but to figure out how they interrelate and condition each other.
If we can sensibly discuss China today as just another big economy, rather than a country struggling with basic development issues, it is because it has actually undergone something truly exceptional, namely, utterly radical economic development in the space of less than two generations.
Pause for a second to consider this twist.
Dialectics offers us a way of imagining the process through which quantitative change turns into qualitative transformation. And there is plenty of that going on in the Chinese case. For example, it is one thing to be a big player in electric vehicles, it is quite another to entirely dominate every facet of the global supply chain. At that point market share measured in percentage points, a quantitative metric, turns into power, a statement of qualitative distinction.
But China also spectacularly illustrates the opposite process, through which qualitative change on a huge scale – “opening up” and “market reform” – transform a society’s entire mode of being so much that it becomes discussable as “just another really big piece of the world economy”, no different in macroeconomic terms than the Eurozone or the US economy. A history of radical qualitative change gives way to bland quantitative metrication.
Social theorists and market practitioners both use the same word to capture this dialectic of quality into quantity – commodification. When your distinctive, branded product with its specific qualities and associated narrative becomes commoditized, it widens the market, but also erases distinctions. In intellectual terms, rendering China’s utterly radical, world-changing development story as a question of “global growth”, is something akin to “commodification”.
Of course, quantitative comparison enabled by commodification has many uses. No less than commoditized goods. But both accept as a cost the erasure of specific qualities. In narrative terms, it involves a kind of blindness to history – how we got here – but also to the wider social and political meaning of current trends and the network of social, political, cultural and material forces that may drive future development. We do macroeconomics no injustice, if we call it heuristic and algorithmic in its approach. Its metier is not the in-depth search for historical meaning.
If we are to have both we need to learn to shuttle back and forth in our economic analysis from quality to quantity to quality to quantity etc.
Of course, you might object that all I am describing in rather highfalutin terms, are the methods of any good economic journalist. A good economics story weaves back and forth between the particular and the general, the experiential and the GDP numbers. That is true. It is a familiar narrative style. But there is a difference between an anecdote that merely serves as a “hook” and the effort to actually find a keyhole or opening that allows us to enter into the complexity of historical reality. As Stuart Hall once put it, the challenge is to find ways of “breaking in” to the historical conjuncture we are trying to decipher…
… How does the quality-quantity dialectic help us to better understand China’s economic situation and its relationship to the world economy in the summer of 2025?…
[Tooze uses that dialectic to unpack four key issues for China: real estate/urbanization, youth unemployment/generational shock, trade surplus/manufacturing power, and deflation (the “accumulation regime”)…]
… This essay had been a forced march, the aim of which is to connect four points of common concern about China’s macroeconomic situation – real estate, youth unemployment, the trade balance and deflation – with broader questions of China’s recent history and development. Doing justice to any of these themes would require far more space and far more expertise than I have my disposal. My aim here is simply to demonstrate the value of this kind of approach. My aim is to alert us to the moments when quality flattens into quantity – when “world-changing hundred-millionfold urbanization” is recharacterized as nothing more than a real estate boom – and to suggest the possibility of different narratives. The aim is to allow us to see through the bare bones of the macroeconomic schema, to the more historically specific and ultimately more powerful forces that are at play.
I’m not original in suggesting this. This is just what good history and good critical social analysis ought to do when it wrestles with the limitations of familiar macroeconomic concepts. In this particular case I am indebted to the work of Lan Xiaohuan of Fudan university, whose book How China Works: An Introduction to China’s State-led Economic Development offers a fascinating developmentalist perspective on recent Chinese economic history.
But not the least attraction of this approach is that it actually allows us to hear – as in really hear – how the Chinese describe their own situation. China insists on referring to itself as “developing” and “development” as the key objective of policy. The phrase 发展 (fāzhǎn) recurs in the titles of the National Development and Reform Commission, the de facto center of Chinese planning, and the Development Research Council of the State Council.
All too often the question of whether China should be counted as a “developing economy” is treated as a matter of cheap gamesmanship. Western critics, allege that China shirks its responsibilities by insisting on its status as a developing country. But triviality aside, as I have argued here, the question is actually a fundamental one. China is a huge and complex society with a powerful regime undergoing the most dramatic process of socio-economic change in world history. To describe this ongoing process as one of development is, if anything, an understatement.
Indeed, the question is why we don’t learn from the Chinese. Would it not behoove Western advanced economies to consider themselves, as well, as “developing”. Or does the difficulty of doing so betoken a telling blindspot? Development as a conception of economic change embodies a notion of comprehensiveness, qualitative change and deliberate purpose that is a challenge to policy in rich countries. In the US the bold vision of the Green New Deal was reduced to the Inflation Reduction Act. Trump’s tariffs and Big Beautiful Bill are a parody of economic nationalism. The best that the EU could manage was NextGen EU in 2020.
As Wang Yiwei of the Academy of Xi Jinping Thought at Renmin University remarked to The Economist:
Development is a permanent “political identity” … The party’s legitimacy depends in part on the riches yet to come. “Once you are ‘advanced’,” says Mr Wang, “you are declining.
The frankness is disarming. But does the West really have an answer?
Eminently worth reading in full: “Whither China? – World Economy Now, June 2025 Edition” from @adamtooze.bsky.social.
Pair with: “The Two Chinas.”
And for context, “Structure and Interpretation of the Chinese Economy.”
(Image above: source)
* ancient Chinese adage
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As we synthesize, we might recall that it was on this date in 626 that Li Shimin ambushed and killed his rival brothers Li Yuanji and Li Jiancheng in the Xuanwu Gate Incident. Li Shimin went on to become Emperor Taizong of Tang– the second emperor of the Tang dynasty of China, ruling from 626 to 649. He is traditionally regarded as a co-founder of the dynasty for his role in encouraging his father Li Yuan (Emperor Gaozu) to rebel against the Sui dynasty in 617. Taizong subsequently played a pivotal role in defeating several of the dynasty’s most dangerous opponents and solidifying its rule over China proper.
“The bond of our common humanity is stronger than the divisiveness of our fears and prejudices”*…
Inanna Hamati-Ataya on the importance of understanding our place in the world…
In the 1990s, an entire generation was robbed of its historical consciousness by a powerful and seemingly unprecedented tale. This story, crafted as the Cold War came to an end, declared that real or imagined boundaries had stopped working as they once had. Humans were no longer contained within their old geographies or identities. They now inhabited a new world that appeared to be unhinged from the normal evolution of human society.
The concept chosen to capture this transformational moment in human history was ‘globalisation’. It described how new technologies and networks of connectivity had suddenly brought human communities closer together and made them permeable to an uncontrollable flow of people, ideas, goods and cultural practices, which all moved freely across the integrated markets of the world economy. In the wake of this transformation, new jargon emerged, expressing new anxieties: the world had truly become the ‘global village’ that Marshall McLuhan anticipated in the 1960s, but it was a world shaped by multinational corporations and ‘elite globalisers’, who spoke a common, hegemonic ‘global English’, and were spearheading a destructive ‘homogenisation’ (or ‘McDonaldisation’) of human cultures that national borders were too fragile to withstand.
During the past three decades, more people have begun viewing our ‘global’ world as a cursed fate. With its suffocating time-space compression, globalisation seems to have uncoupled us from the logic and flow of history. Our suspicious, bastard identities – patched together from a mishmash of cultures – appear incompatible with our ancestors’ ‘authentic’ traditions and ways of life. We have become strangers to the places they called home, to the ways they dressed, ate or communicated with one another. And, with no template for how to live and no experience to learn from, the deafening siren songs of anti-globalisation movements are now luring us back into the safer identities and boundaries of a lost, golden past.
This tale of globalisation is the most successful scare story of our times. And like all scare stories, it stimulates our fear of an overwhelming unknown.
But it’s all an illusion. There is no new global world.
Our present appears that way only because we have forgotten our common past. Globalisation didn’t begin in the 1990s, or even in the past millennia. Remembering this older shared history is a path to a different tale, which begins much, much earlier – long before the arrival of international supply chains, ocean-going sailing ships, and continent-spanning silk roads. The tale of globalisation is written across human history. So why do we keep getting the story so wrong?…
[She unpacks the answer to her questions, then turns to it implications…]
… In our own contemporary era, anti-globalisation movements have recently shifted from the far Left to the far Right of national and global politics. Justified resentment against the locally experienced injustices of the global economy and the growing disruptive effect of global climate change are now couched in resentment for the social and cultural dimensions of globalisation. Identitarianism, a political ideology that stresses the preservation of narrowly conceived ‘Western’ ethnicities and cultures, has accordingly become the easiest and most efficient strategy to mobilise local grievances, and direct them at whatever is perceived as a threat to the wellbeing of those suffering within. The ugly age of nationalism is back.
Is nationalist identitarianism the ethos we will now deploy to confront the common existential threats that await us in the coming century? Why wouldn’t it be? Does anyone doubt that national borders will be turned, once again, into sacred physical boundaries and fiercely defended against those fleeing the environmental, economic or military devastation of their homes? Do we doubt that eloquent voices animated by the most (ig)noble intentions will rise to justify patriotic bullets being aimed at ‘alien migrants’ and climate refugees? And that leaders will say these displaced people cannot be accommodated because of their numbers and cultures, and the threat they pose to our secure lives – to our ‘identity’?
Such scenarios are far too likely given the rise of xenophobic worldviews, such as the conspiratorial idea of a ‘Great Replacement’, in which elites – imagined to be Jews and other minorities – have begun executing a plan to replace so-called indigenous white Europeans with other populations of apparently greater and threatening reproductive vitality. These racialist worldviews dangerously converge with a public misunderstanding of ‘race’ as reflected in the recent craze for DNA ‘ancestry tests’. DNA has little to do with ‘identity’, as social and political ideologies have constructed it, and much to do with physical and social geography. Our genes are a result of human adaptive mobility, and the journeys, rich encounters and kin-making that our freedom of movement made possible over tens of thousands of years. Our genome does not tell our whole story, but the story it does tell shows how past globalisations made us what we are today.
As we search for ways of communing with one another beyond the stubborn ideology of difference, we should also prepare for vicious future distortions and manipulations of our current scientific and historical understanding of identity. Some humans today carry a few genes that their Pleistocene ancestors inherited from intercourse with our Eurasian Neanderthalian and Denisovan cousins, whom some communities of Homo sapiens encountered on their journeys of cosmopolitan expansion. How might such a genetic difference among us be interpreted and used in the future by those intent on pursuing identitarianism to its silliest or most murderous conclusions? Might they declare that some humans are not ‘pure’ enough to enjoy the full freedom, security and dignity we recognise as the natural rights of humankind? Or might they, on the contrary, elevate the Neanderthalian or Denisovan gene as a marker of Eurasian ‘distinction’ to recreate narratives of racial superiority, similar to those that once plagued archaeological thinking about the allegedly more ‘advanced’ nature of those human fossils laying the farthest away from the species’ original African homes?
Palaeontologists who insist on ascribing the label ‘humans’ to the entire Homo genus while reserving that of ‘modern humans’ to the surviving representatives of the lineage (ie, us) probably understand better than most the dangers of ideological manipulations of scientific taxonomies. But in the open marketplace where ideas freely flow in the name of freedom of thought and expression, how can we protect ourselves and one another from such dangers, if we still perceive plurality as a threat to survival, and cannot see the richness of our shared human culture?
The wars we wage against one another are all civil wars. Until we recognise them as such, they will remain tragedies we accept as natural – or horrors we cheer on in the name of grand notions sold to us by loud voices who know our fears too well (and know too little of the richness of our world and our history). We have always been global, and this is our shared identity. It is our unique way of being and remaining in the world as one family. Whatever we cherish in our humanity and culture has been crafted by our global journeys and encounters. Through them, we will continue to write the story of how we become us…
All of our religions, stories, languages, and norms were muddled and mixed through mobility and exchange throughout history: “There are no pure cultures,” from @berytia.bsky.social in @aeon.co.
Still, as Venkatesh Rao reminds us, the “vacuous over-large abstractions like “globalization” make us underestimate the horizontal historicity of the world.”
* Jimmy Carter
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As we go with the flow, we might recall that it was on this date in 1690 (or so musicologists believe) that Johann Christoph Denner, inspired by a reeded recorder-like instrument called the chalumeau, designed and created a longer and keyed (so more widely-ranged) instrument that was quickly copied and modified by other makers– and became what we know as the clarinet. By 1791, Mozart was composing for the instrument; by Beethoven’s time, the clarinet was a staple member in the orchestra.
To the point of the essay above, it’s worth noting that the chalumeau– and thus the clarinet– were direct descendants of ancient Greek and ancient Egyptian reeded pipes… that may themselves have been modeled on similar instruments from Central and East Asia.
The clarinet, as depicted in Diderot’s Encyclopedia, 1776 (source)
“This is a cardboard universe”*…
As we rid ourselves of the detritus of the Holiday season, let us pause to consider its signature component: at the turn of the 21st century, corrugated cardboard accounted for just fifteen percent of the United States recycling stream; today, it’s nearly half. Shannon Mattern on the cardboard box…
… As historian Maria Rentetzi writes (“Cardboard Box: The Politics of Materiality,” in Boxes: A Field Guide), “the cardboard box — the waste of our commercial world — is recycled in such a way as to make visible the disorder in our societies, the faults of capitalism.” It is an abject object that touches all parts of the city, from the granite kitchen island to the sewer grate. And for many of us, the cardboard box is our closest touchpoint to globalized trade, structuring our relations with people in distant places. It brings the logistics chain to our doorstep. The magnificently ripped metal freight container may get the Economist cover shot, but the plain brown box delivers messages to our homes. Its very existence in our homes, Marshall McLuhan would say, is the message. In the immortal words of Walter Paepcke, founder of the Container Corporation of America, “packages are not just commodities; they are communications.”
Let’s unpack that, shall we? Boxes are media in multiple senses of the word. They’re lithographed surfaces designed to be read, and they’re dimensional containers that mediate between outside and inside worlds. They’re “media of transport and information, shapers of public opinion and consumer desire, and means of targeting attention.” And they’re “logistical media” that “arrange people and property into time and space,” that “coordinate and control the movement of labor, people, and things situated along and within global supply chains.” The cardboard box is a minimalist form with maximalist ambitions, an arboreal apparatus made from one of the world’s most abundant renewable resources, then filled with plastic and moved around by copious quantities of oil. It doesn’t just coordinate and control landscapes; it transforms them.
Cardboard’s ubiquity rests on simple claims: I can hold that, and I can go there. The Container Corporation of America was founded in 1926, and upon those claims it built an empire with surprising reach. The CCA made collapsible shipping boxes, and it transformed packaging into a science and an art. It advanced market research, shaped mid-century taste, and altered the chromatic universe through color standards. It employed some of the best graphic designers of the period, and as national borders shifted after the Second World War, it commissioned Herbert Bayer, author of the Universal typeface, to revise the World Geo-Graphic Atlas. Even then, the CCA was remaking that new world to meet its logistical needs, rehabbing mining towns and germinating forests, and orchestrating civic discourse about all of this.
How did a packaging company get into the publishing business — into the containment and distribution of information? How were geographic imaginations changed in the process? Soon we’ll dive into the Paepcke archive, to find answers to those questions. But first I want to show you how a cardboard box is made…
In turn, inspiring and horrifying– the social history of the cardboard carton: “World in a Box,” @shannonmattern.bsky.social in @placesjournal.bsky.social.
For an earlier (R)D focused on Mattern’s work: “To clarify, ADD data.”
* Philip K. Dick, The Dark-Haired Girl
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As we tape it tight, we might recall that it was on this date in 1910 that a federal official who might slowed the onset of the cardboard box was fired: Gifford Pinchot, the first chief of the United States Forest Service, was fired by President William Howard Taft. Pinchot had opposed Taft’s newly appointed Secretary of the Interior, Richard Ballinger, who favored commercial exploitation of federal reserve lands.
During President Theodore Roosevelt’s term, Pinchot had help enable policies for the conservation of natural resources. Roosevelt had designated millions of acres to protect as National Forests. That legacy was threatened, so Pinchot pressured Taft to remove Ballinger from office. In November of 1909, Collier’s Magazine had created a scandal when it accused Ballinger of shady dealings in coal lands in Alaska. When Pinchot criticized both Ballinger and Taft, the president reacted by firing him.
“We live in an age when the traditional great subjects – the human form, the landscape, even newer traditions such as abstract expressionism – are daily devalued by commercial art”*…
… But it wasn’t always so. A current exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum in New York is devoted to the work of (often anonymous) artists who illustrated commercial catalogs in the late 19th and early 20th centuries…
Art of Commerce: Trade Catalogs in Watson Library features a selection of the library’s extensive holdings of sale catalogs. Watson Library has almost two thousand trade catalogs published in many countries from the eighteenth century to the present. Objects featured include furniture, jewelry, tiles, ironwork, glasswork, lighting, stoves, tableware, textiles, decorative paper, artist’s materials, fashion, typography, automobiles, and musical instruments. Numerous catalogs illustrate works of art or related objects now in The Met collection.
The library has strong holdings of Art Deco trade catalogs including Modern furniture design = Le dessin moderne des meubles—a colorful furniture portfolio by Czech architect Karel Vepřek—and Van Clef Arpels présentent, an elegantly illustrated accessories publication designed by Draeger Frères, the most innovative graphic designers and printers of the period. Both catalogs are on display in the exhibition.
Trade or sale catalogs — also called commercial or manufacturer’s catalogs —are printed publications advertising products of a particular trade or industry. Sale catalogs were often used in shops or showrooms to promote a company’s products. Examples include the massive Reed and Barton catalog Artistic workers in silver & gold plate from 1885 that illustrates the entire inventory of the company…
Among the more unusual and appealing trade catalogs in the exhibition is a German Art Nouveau-inspired cake decorating book from 1910 and a baby carriage catalog from 1934 offering Art Deco styled tubular steel baby prams. These trade catalogs demonstrate the distillation of major art movements applied to quotidian objects.
The earliest trade catalog in the exhibition is Muster zu Zimmer-Verzierungen und Ameublements, a neo-classical interior design catalog by luxury German manufacturer Voss und Compagnie, offering entire rooms that can be bought en masse or as separate pieces. It is illustrated with richly toned hand-colored engravings that detail the design and color of the objects.
One of the library’s most fragile and weighty catalogs is Album des principaux modeles de verres: produits spéciaux en verre coulé. It is a magical trade catalog with sixty-five intact glass samples manufactured by French glassmaker Saint-Gobain. Founded during the time of Louis XIV, the company remains a manufacturer of glass for construction.
The majestic ironwork catalogue of Maison Garnier has pink-tinted papers and was bound in Morocco leather as a special copy for Rémy Garnier, the son of the firm’s founder. The firm’s initials are boldly blind stamped on the cover.
The most unusual and perhaps unexpected catalog, Urinoirs, illustrates the decorative ironwork structures of urinals (or pissoirs) that adorned the streets of Paris from the 1840s to the mid-twentieth century. The ornamentation of these structures demonstrates an impulse to beautify the animated street life of Paris and other cities…
See the items mentioned at the links above, and other articles in the exhibit here.
Beauty in the service of business: “Art of Commerce: Trade Catalogs in Watson Library,” from @metmuseum (where one can see the works on exhibit through March 4, 2025).
* Andy Warhol
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As we browse, we might spare a thought for Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde; the novelist, essayist, playwright, poet, and master of the bon mot died on this date in 1900.
As he said: “There are moments when art attains almost to the dignity of manual labor.”
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