In 1915, Henry Ford began quietly amassing 2,000 acres of marshland along the Rouge River near Detroit, the first step toward erecting a gargantuan industrial machine on the soggy site. He envisioned pouring iron ore, sand, and coal into one end of the machine, while shiny new cars rolled off a moving assembly line at the opposite end.
To skeptics, the idea sounded absurd. Henry built it anyway. He erected a fully-integrated factory that could manufacture more than 4,000 cars a day. The River Rouge Plant pioneered mass-production on a scale never seen before.
The Rouge jumpstarts Sheeler’s career
Ford hired commercial photographer Charles Sheeler to create a visual record of “The Rouge.” To everyone’s astonishment, Sheeler’s 1927 photos were so stunning, one art critic feared they signaled the end of painting.
At the time, Sheeler was a highly skilled photographer who understood the power of the medium. Surprisingly, just a few years later he emerged from his studio in upstate New York with a radically new style of oil painting.
Sheeler’s American Landscape celebrates the geometric beauty of an industrial landscape rather than the biomorphic beauty of a picturesque landscape. He depicts The Rouge as a modern cathedral of order and rationality, turning the canvas into a quiet meditation on the raw power of American manufacturing.
Would the painting be more interesting if people were in it?
Sheeler chose to focus on the genius of one man, Henry Ford, rather than the collective contribution made by thousands of employees at The Rouge. I need a magnifying glass to find the only two workers in the painting.
Charles Sheeler’s work is tense, taut, and tight. It is always serious. It is quite American. “Tense, taut, and tight” are not altogether complimentary terms when applied to painting, but Sheeler gets away with them.
But are we drifting as a nation into general hardness? I must confess that I don’t like bleakness and bareness, and if Charles Sheeler has been holding a mirror up to nature, and if even half the things he says are true, then he’s got me worried.
Art critic Henry McBride, “The New York Sun,” 1946
Most art critics applauded Sheeler’s veneration of Yankee ingenuity. But today his industrial landscapes prompt far-reaching questions about the role of technology in our society: In what ways is it changing our workforce? Our culture? Our planet?
The Rouge inspires Rivera’s finest murals
In 1929, as the oil paint was drying on American Landscape, the stock market crashed, paving the way to the Great Depression. In Detroit, automobile production fell by 75 percent. The Rouge cut its workforce by half.
To boost civic pride, the Detroit Institute of Arts hired Mexican artist Diego Rivera to paint two frescoes (paintings on wet plaster) in the museum’s Garden Courtyard. The theme would be Detroit Industry.
As it happened, Rivera arrived in the Motor City right after the Ford Hunger March, when thousands of unemployed autoworkers walked from downtown Detroit to the gates of The Rouge, hoping to find work. Ford security guards panicked and shot into the crowd, killing five people.
Rivera maintained that public art could catalyze social change, so he proposed painting all 27 panels in the Garden Courtyard instead of just two. Moreover, he would dedicate the entire project to Rouge autoworkers.
I made thousands of sketches of towering blast furnaces, serpentine conveyor belts, impressive scientific laboratories….and of the people who worked them. I was afire with enthusiasm.
My childhood passion for mechanical toys had been transmuted to a delight in machinery for its own sake, and for its meaning to humanity: liberation from drudgery and poverty.
Diego Rivera, “My Art, My Life,” 1992
In Rivera’s murals, raw materials from deep inside the earth transform into vehicles—specifically the Ford V-8. A diverse group of people work side by side, operating machines that echo the sculptures of ancient civilizations.
Conveyors weave in, out, and around the images like a giant circulatory system. The only thing missing is the deafening sound.
Diego Rivera’s unique painting style
Rivera’s Detroit Industry murals combine the anthropomorphism of Pre-Columbian Art, the intersecting planes of Cubism, and the predella narrative panels of the Italian Renaissance.
To simulate relief sculpture, he painted the small narrative panels exclusively in shades of gray. When viewed as a whole, they depict a standard workday: employees punch in at a time clock, pour molten metal into molds, break for lunch, attend a class led by Henry Ford, and collect wages at a pay wagon.
The two corner panels located on the north wall depict both a harmful and a beneficial use of technology. On the far left, men wearing gas masks build the bombs used in World War I. On the far right, a doctor vaccinates a child, probably against small pox.
You won’t find any trace of The Great Depression in Rivera’s murals. The only reference to an economic or political event is found on the south wall, where a worker’s hat says “We want…” The full slogan is “We want beer,” which refers to the repeal of Prohibition.
Rivera worked on the Detroit Industry murals for twelve months. Unemployed autoworkers stopped by the museum to watch him paint. Artist Frida Kahlo climbed up the scaffolding to steal a kiss.
When the murals were unveiled, they were met with an emotional outpouring. As many as 16,000 people visited the Detroit Institute of Arts on the opening weekend. Then the inevitable happened: some of the visitors called the nudes pornographic; others called the vaccination panel sacrilegious.
Our uneasy relationship with technology
In the 1936 comedy Modern Times, legendary filmmaker Charlie Chaplin pokes fun at the machine age. In the film’s most famous scene, an insatiable assembly line swallows up Chaplin’s character and then spits him right back out.
Today, more than 600 robots work side-by-side humans at The Rouge. Are these robots liberating autoworkers for more meaningful roles? Or do they lessen the importance of work by taking all the skilled jobs? Technology that reduces boredom is great. Technology that quietly erodes our identity and sense of purpose? Not so great.
Speaking of which, I don’t want a self-driving car. I want a self-cleaning house. I feel like I keep saying this.
Postscript: If you happen to be in Dearborn, Michigan…
The Ford Rouge Factory Tour offers a behind-the-scenes look at sustainable manufacturing. Located at the Henry Ford Museum, this multi-part experience includes the Manufacturing Innovation Theater and a catwalk view of the assembly line. Click the link for details.