The cultural history of the automobile: "Where will our desires go?"

The museum initially started thinking about the exhibition five years ago. Could you tell then how relevant the subject matter would be today?

The Victoria and Albert Museum is, first and foremost, an art and design museum. The initial idea behind the exhibition was the influence of cars on culture and design. When I joined the team two years ago, people were already talking about the future of the automobile. What has surprised us, though, is the force with which the debate has gained momentum and visibility.

People’s attitudes toward cars appear to have changed for the worse...

That may well be the case for significant portions of western society, particularly in Europe. But there are still plenty of people in industrialized countries – and especially in some emerging markets – who are intrigued by cars and what they promise.

What do they promise?

I think the love of the automobile is based in part on their promise of freedom and a certain thrill – neither of which are ever fully achieved, though. Even the longest road trip has to end sometime, and rarely do you have the world’s greatest roads all to yourself. Yet there’s enough joy left over to want to try it again soon. Also, it’s often just more convenient.

The automobile’s detractors, however, are thinking less of hairpin curves and more of the side effects of private transport. Does the exhibition pick up on that?

We show both sides. When it came to selecting the vehicles, however, the cultural and historical statement was more important to us than fuel consumption. The eye-catching 1962 Chevrolet Impala, for instance, is a symbol of California’s lowrider subculture. And then there’s the Hispano-Suiza with a handmade wooden body from 1922 – an early example of a car as a luxury item. Still, despite all the chrome and glitz, there’s no secret made of the less shiny side effects of the car.

You mean accidents, environmental woes, traffic jams…

It’s all in there. The exhibition catalog talks about how the ruthless exploitation of the oil supply has changed the geopolitical landscape, for example – and how that could repeat itself with regard to the extraction, mining, and production of lithium, copper, or cobalt for electric cars. Then we have Graham, a lifelike statue that shows how people would have to be built to be less at risk of serious injury in an accident. He gives a lot of visitors food for thought. Still, it’s not about passing moral or social judgment on whether cars are good or bad, but about the incredibly huge and fascinating influence that cars have had on culture and thought over the past 120 years.

How did that influence extend beyond the automotive sector?

The configurable car marked the first time that a mass-produced product had been individualized, and other industries quickly picked up on the idea. More and more products started to appear in different colors and designs. The idea that a product’s color and design could influence its market value had only existed in fashion before that – and usually only for a select few.

At the same time, however, many designers have been impressed by the standardized, mass production in the automotive sector.

Correct. Some architects and designers assumed that the standardized design of mass-produced products would have a democratic, liberating effect. The efficiency of automotive assembly-line production was met with admiration and was transferred to other industries. The aim was to efficiently produce – and use – furniture, kitchens, and even entire houses.

Sounds a bit like socialist propaganda.

Henry Ford was, in fact, so admired in the early Soviet Union that people even named their children after him. Fordizatsiya, mass production, was seen as being ideologically neutral and as an important tool on the road to a communist society. Similar convictions were also reflected before the war in Germany’s Bauhaus movement, and in Italy and France.

Cars were of tremendous political importance in the second half of the 20th century as well, correct?

Both economically and symbolically. For many countries, having their own automotive industry was (and is) a symbol of national strength and pride. In the 1990s, Kenya wasted vast sums of money on five prototypes of the Nyayo Pioneer, which was nothing more than a prestige project for the era’s elite. In the late 1960s, Iran launched the Paykan, which remains an important symbol in the country to this day – not least because of an old advertising jingle that people still like to sing on birthdays.

Just like Bosch. Were you already aware of the company’s significance in the industry?

Honestly, no. That made my visit to the Bosch Archives in Stuttgart all the more fascinating. The breadth and depth of the collection is absolutely astonishing.

You ultimately selected four items from the archives for the exhibition. Why these four?

Because they do an excellent job of illustrating how driving has become safer and safer over time. That’s why we decided on a Bosch headlight from 1913, a wonderfully designed horn from 1921, an early windshield wiper from 1926, and – with a tremendous leap forward in technology – an ABS system from 1978.

What is your personal automotive history?

I grew up in Canada. The first car I can remember is my father’s Volkswagen Rabbit, sometime in the 1980s. Unfortunately, it didn’t get much cooler after that either. Instead, we would tool around Toronto’s snowy suburbs in boring minivans. I’ve never actually owned a car myself. First I was too poor, and then I always lived in big cities where owning a car was just too impractical. So I’m part of that much-talked-about generation for whom car ownership is no longer all that important.

Do cars still have a future ahead of them?

They have to change if they want to survive, at any rate. It’ll be interesting to see how the magnetism of the automobile changes as automated vehicles start doing more and more of the work for drivers. The feeling of freedom is so closely intertwined with the history and appeal of the automobile. How willing are people going to be to give it up for more safety and better traffic flow? The allure of driving won’t be the same anymore. But the desire for freedom, speed, and control will remain the same. The question is where people will live out these desires if cars can’t satisfy them anymore.