Gotowa bibliografia na temat „Industries textiles – France – 1940-1945”

J. Lennart Berggren and Alexander Jones, Ptolemy's Geography: An Annotated Translation of the Theoretical Chapters. By Karin Tybjerg 194Natalia Lozovsky, ‘The Earth is Our Book’: Geographical Knowledge in the Latin West ca. 400–1000. By Evelyn Edson 196David Cantor (ed.), Reinventing Hippocrates. By Daniel Brownstein 197Peter Dear, Revolutionizing the Sciences: European Knowledge and Its Ambitions, 1500–1700. By John Henry 199Paolo Rossi, Logic and the Art of Memory: The Quest for a Universal Language. By John Henry 200Marie Boas Hall, Henry Oldenburg: Shaping the Royal Society. By Christoph Lüthy 201Richard L. Hills, James Watt, Volume 1: His Time in Scotland, 1736–1774. By David Philip Miller 203René Sigrist (ed.), H.-B. de Saussure (1740–1799): Un Regard sur la terre, Albert V. Carozzi and John K. Newman (eds.), Lectures on Physical Geography given in 1775 by Horace-Bénédict de Saussure at the Academy of Geneva/Cours de géographie physique donné en 1775 par Horace-Bénédict de Saussure à l'Académie de Genève and Horace-Bénédict de Saussure, Voyages dans les Alpes: Augmentés des Voyages en Valais, au Mont Cervin et autour du Mont Rose. By Martin Rudwick 206Anke te Heesen, The World in a Box: The Story of an Eighteenth-Century Picture Encyclopedia. By Richard Yeo 208David Boyd Haycock, William Stukeley: Science, Religion and Archaeology in Eighteenth-Century England. By Geoffrey Cantor 209Jessica Riskin, Science in the Age of Sensibility: The Sentimental Empiricists of the French Enlightenment. By Dorinda Outram 210Michel Chaouli, The Laboratory of Poetry: Chemistry and Poetics in the Work of Friedrich Schlegel. By David Knight 211George Levine, Dying to Know: Scientific Epistemology and Narrative in Victorian England. By Michael H. Whitworth 212Agustí Nieto-Galan, Colouring Textiles: A History of Natural Dyestuffs in Industrial Europe. By Ursula Klein 214Stuart McCook, States of Nature: Science, Agriculture, and Environment in the Spanish Caribbean, 1760–1940. By Piers J. Hale 215Paola Govoni, Un pubblico per la scienza: La divulgazione scientifica nell'Italia in formazione. By Pietro Corsi 216R. W. Home, A. M. Lucas, Sara Maroske, D. M. Sinkora and J. H. Voigt (eds.), Regardfully Yours: Selected Correspondence of Ferdinand von Mueller. Volume II: 1860–1875. By Jim Endersby 217Douglas R. Weiner, Models of Nature: Ecology, Conservation and Cultural Revolution in Soviet Russia. With a New Afterword. By Piers J. Hale 219Helge Kragh, Quantum Generations: A History of Physics in the Twentieth Century. By Steven French 220Antony Kamm and Malcolm Baird, John Logie Baird: A Life. By Sean Johnston 221Robin L. Chazdon and T. C. Whitmore (eds.), Foundations of Tropical Forest Biology: Classic Papers with Commentaries. By Joel B. Hagen 223Stephen Jay Gould, I Have Landed: Splashes and Reflections in Natural History. By Peter J. Bowler 223Henry Harris, Things Come to Life: Spontaneous Generation Revisited. By Rainer Brömer 224Hélène Gispert (ed.), ‘Par la Science, pour la patrie’: L'Association française pour l'avancement des sciences (1872–1914), un projet politique pour une société savante. By Cristina Chimisso 225Henry Le Chatelier, Science et industrie: Les Débuts du taylorisme en France. By Robert Fox 227Margit Szöllösi-Janze (ed.), Science in the Third Reich. By Jonathan Harwood 227Vadim J. Birstein, The Perversion of Knowledge; The true Story of Soviet Science. By C. A. J. Chilvers 229Guy Hartcup, The Effect of Science on the Second World War. By David Edgerton 230Lillian Hoddeson and Vicki Daitch, True Genius: The Life and Science of John Bardeen, the Only Winner of Two Nobel Prizes in Physics. By Arne Hessenbruch 230Stephen B. Johnson, The Secret of Apollo: Systems Management in American and European Space Programs, John M. Logsdon (ed.), Exploring the Unknown: Selected Documents in the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program. Volume V: Exploring the Cosmos and Douglas J. Mudgway, Uplink-Downlink: A History of the Deep Space Network 1957–1997. By Jon Agar 231Helen Ross and Cornelis Plug, The Mystery of the Moon Illusion: Exploring Size Perception. By Klaus Hentschel 233Matthew R. Edwards (ed.), Pushing Gravity: New Perspectives on Le Sage's Theory of Gravitation. By Friedrich Steinle 234Ernest B. Hook (ed.), Prematurity in Scientific Discovery: On Resistance and Neglect. By Alex Dolby 235John Waller, Fabulous Science: Fact and Fiction in the History of Scientific Discovery. By Alex Dolby 236Rosalind Williams, Retooling: A Historian Confronts Technological Change. By Keith Vernon 237Colin Divall and Andrew Scott, Making Histories in Transport Museums. By Anthony Coulls 238

“...children’s play seems to become more and more a product of the educational and cultural orientation of parents...” — Stephen Kline, The Making of Children’s Culture We live in a world saturated by design and through design artefacts, one can glean unique insights into a culture's values and norms. In fact, some academics, such as British media and film theorist Ben Highmore, see the two areas so inextricably intertwined as to suggest a wholesale “re-branding of the cultural sciences as design studies” (14). Too often, however, everyday objects are marginalised or overlooked as objects of scholarly attention. The field of material culture studies seeks to change that by focussing on the quotidian object and its ability to reveal much about the time, place, and culture in which it was designed and used. This article takes on one such object, a mid-century children's toy tea set, whose humble journey from 1968 Sears catalogue to 2014 thrift shop—and subsequently this author’s basement—reveals complex rhetorical messages communicated both visually and verbally. As material culture studies theorist Jules Prown notes, the field’s foundation is laid upon the understanding “that objects made ... by man reflect, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, the beliefs of individuals who made, commissioned, purchased or used them, and by extension the beliefs of the larger society to which they belonged” (1-2). In this case, the objects’ material and aesthetic characteristics can be shown to reflect some of the pervasive stereotypes and gender roles of the mid-century and trace some of the prevailing tastes of the American middle class of that era, or perhaps more accurately the type of design that came to represent good taste and a modern aesthetic for that audience. A wealth of research exists on the function of toys and play in learning about the world and even the role of toy selection in early sex-typing, socialisation, and personal identity of children (Teglasi). This particular research area isn’t the focus of this article; however, one aspect that is directly relevant and will be addressed is the notion of adult role-playing among children and the role of toys in communicating certain adult practices or values to the child—what sociologist David Oswell calls “the dedifferentiation of childhood and adulthood” (200). Neither is the focus of this article the practice nor indeed the ethicality of marketing to children. Relevant to this particular example I suggest, is as a product utilising messaging aimed not at children but at adults, appealing to certain parents’ interest in nurturing within their child a perceived era and class-appropriate sense of taste. This was fuelled in large part by the curatorial pursuits of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, coupled with an interest and investment in raising their children in a design-forward household and a desire for toys that reflected that priority; in essence, parents wishing to raise modern children. Following Prown’s model of material culture analysis, the tea set is examined in three stages, through description, deduction and speculation with each stage building on the previous one. Figure 1: Porcelain Toy Tea Set. Description The tea set consists of twenty-six pieces that allows service for six. Six cups, saucers, and plates; a tall carafe with spout, handle and lid; a smaller vessel with a spout and handle; a small round bowl with a lid; a larger oval bowl with a lid, and a coordinated oval platter. The cups are just under two inches tall and two inches in diameter. The largest piece, the platter is roughly six inches by four inches. The pieces are made of a ceramic material white in colour and glossy in texture and are very lightweight. The rim or edge of each piece is decorated with a motif of three straight lines in two different shades of blue and in different thicknesses, interspersed with a set of three black wiggly lines. Figure 2: Porcelain Toy Tea Set Box. The set is packaged for retail purposes and the original box appears to be fully intact. The packaging of an object carries artefactual evidence just as important as what it contains that falls into the category of a “‘para-artefact’ … paraphernalia that accompanies the product (labels, packaging, instructions etc.), all of which contribute to a product’s discourse” (Folkmann and Jensen 83). The graphics on the box are colourful, featuring similar shades of teal blue as found on the objects, with the addition of orange and a silver sticker featuring the logo of the American retailer Sears. The cover features an illustration of the objects on an orange tabletop. The most prominent text that confirms that the toy is a “Porcelain Toy Tea Set” is in an organic, almost psychedelic style that mimics both popular graphics of this era—especially album art and concert posters—as well as the organic curves of steam that emanate from the illustrated teapot’s spout. Additional messages appear on the box, in particular “Contemporary DESIGN” and “handsome, clean-line styling for modern little hostesses”. Along the edges of the box lid, a detail of the decorative motif is reproduced somewhat abstracted from what actually appears on the ceramic objects. Figure 3: Sears’s Christmas Wishbook Catalogue, page 574 (1968). Sears, Roebuck and Co. (Sears) is well-known for its over one-hundred-year history of producing printed merchandise catalogues. The catalogue is another important para-artefact to consider in analysing the objects. The tea set first appeared in the 1968 Sears Christmas Wishbook. There is no date or copyright on the box, so only its inclusion in the catalogue allows the set to be accurately dated. It also allows us to understand how the set was originally marketed. Deduction In the deduction phase, we focus on the sensory aesthetic and functional interactive qualities of the various components of the set. In terms of its function, it is critical that we situate the objects in their original use context, play. The light weight of the objects and thinness of the ceramic material lends the objects a delicate, if not fragile, feeling which indicates that this set is not for rough use. Toy historian Lorraine May Punchard differentiates between toy tea sets “meant to be used by little girls, having parties for their friends and practising the social graces of the times” and smaller sets or doll dishes “made for little girls to have parties with their dolls, or for their dolls to have parties among themselves” (7). Similar sets sold by Sears feature images of girls using the sets with both human playmates and dolls. The quantity allowing service for six invites multiple users to join the party. The packaging makes clear that these toy tea sets were intended for imaginary play only, rendering them non-functional through an all-capitals caution declaiming “IMPORTANT: Do not use near heat”. The walls and handles of the cups are so thin one can imagine that they would quickly become dangerous if filled with a hot liquid. Nevertheless, the lid of the oval bowl has a tan stain or watermark which suggests actual use. The box is broken up by pink cardboard partitions dividing it into segments sized for each item in the set. Interestingly even the small squares of unfinished corrugated cardboard used as cushioning between each stacked plate have survived. The evidence of careful re-packing indicates that great care was taken in keeping the objects safe. It may suggest that even though the set was used, the children or perhaps the parents, considered the set as something to care for and conserve for the future. Flaws in the glaze and applique of the design motif can be found on several pieces in the set and offer some insight as to the technique used in producing these items. Errors such as the design being perfectly evenly spaced but crooked in its alignment to the rim, or pieces of the design becoming detached or accidentally folded over and overlapping itself could only be the result of a print transfer technique popularised with decorative china of the Victorian era, a technique which lends itself to mass production and lower cost when compared to hand decoration. Speculation In the speculation stage, we can consider the external evidence and begin a more rigorous investigation of the messaging, iconography, and possible meanings of the material artefact. Aspects of the set allow a number of useful observations about the role of such an object in its own time and context. Sociologists observe the role of toys as embodiments of particular types of parental messages and values (Cross 292) and note how particularly in the twentieth century “children’s play seems to become more and more a product of the educational and cultural orientation of parents” (Kline 96). Throughout history children’s toys often reflected a miniaturised version of the adult world allowing children to role-play as imagined adult-selves. Kristina Ranalli explored parallels between the practice of drinking tea and the play-acting of the child’s tea party, particularly in the nineteenth century, as a gendered ritual of gentility; a method of socialisation and education, and an opportunity for exploratory and even transgressive play by “spontaneously creating mini-societies with rules of their own” (20). Such toys and objects were available through the Sears mail-order catalogue from the very beginning at the end of the nineteenth century (McGuire). Propelled by the post-war boom of suburban development and homeownership—that generation’s manifestation of the American Dream—concern with home décor and design was elevated among the American mainstream to a degree never before seen. There was a hunger for new, streamlined, efficient, modernist living. In his essay titled “Domesticating Modernity”, historian Jeffrey L. Meikle notes that many early modernist designers found that perhaps the most potent way to “‘domesticate’ modernism and make it more familiar was to miniaturise it; for example, to shrink the skyscraper and put it into the home as furniture or tableware” (143). Dr Timothy Blade, curator of the 1985 exhibition of girls’ toys at the University of Minnesota’s Goldstein Gallery—now the Goldstein Museum of Design—described in his introduction “a miniaturised world with little props which duplicate, however rudely, the larger world of adults” (5). Noting the power of such toys to reflect adult values of their time, Blade continues: “the microcosm of the child’s world, remarkably furnished by the miniaturised props of their parents’ world, holds many direct and implied messages about the society which brought it into being” (9). In large part, the mid-century Sears catalogues capture the spirit of an era when, as collector Thomas Holland observes, “little girls were still primarily being offered only the options of glamour, beauty and parenthood as the stuff of their fantasies” (175). Holland notes that “the Wishbooks of the fifties [and, I would add, the sixties] assumed most girls would follow in their mother’s footsteps to become full-time housewives and mommies” (1). Blade grouped toys into three categories: cooking, cleaning, and sewing. A tea set could arguably be considered part of the cooking category, but closer examination of the language used in marketing this object—“little hostesses”, et cetera—suggests an emphasis not on cooking but on serving or entertaining. This particular category was not prevalent in the era examined by Blade, but the cultural shifts of the mid-twentieth century, particularly the rapid popularisation of a suburban lifestyle, may have led to the use of entertaining as an additional distinct category of role play in the process of learning to become a “proper” homemaker. Sears and other retailers offered a wide variety of styles of toy tea sets during this era. Blade and numerous other sources observe that children’s toy furniture and appliances tended to reflect the style and aesthetic qualities of their contemporary parallels in the adult world, the better to associate the child’s objects to its adult equivalent. The toy tea set’s packaging trumpets messages intended to appeal to modernist values and identity including “Contemporary Design” and “handsome, clean-line styling for modern little hostesses”. The use of this coded marketing language, aimed particularly at parents, can be traced back several decades. In 1928 a group of American industrial and textile designers established the American Designers' Gallery in New York, in part to encourage American designers to innovate and adopt new styles such as those seen in the L’ Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes (1925) in Paris, the exposition that sparked international interest in the Art Deco or Art Moderne aesthetic. One of the gallery founders, Ilonka Karasz, a Hungarian-American industrial and textile designer who had studied in Austria and was influenced by the Wiener Werkstätte in Vienna, publicised her new style of nursery furnishings as “designed for the very modern American child” (Brown 80). Sears itself was no stranger to the appeal of such language. The term “contemporary design” was ubiquitous in catalogue copy of the nineteen-fifties and sixties, used to describe everything from draperies (1959) and bedspreads (1961) to spice racks (1964) and the Lady Kenmore portable dishwasher (1961). An emphasis on the role of design in one’s life and surroundings can be traced back to efforts by MoMA. The museum’s interest in modern design hearkens back almost to the institution’s inception, particularly in relation to industrial design and the aestheticisation of everyday objects (Marshall). Through exhibitions and in partnership with mass-market magazines, department stores and manufacturer showrooms, MoMA curators evangelised the importance of “good design” a term that can be found in use as early as 1942. What Is Good Design? followed the pattern of prior exhibitions such as What Is Modern Painting? and situated modern design at the centre of exhibitions that toured the United States in the first half of the nineteen-fifties. To MoMA and its partners, “good design” signified the narrow identification of proper taste in furniture, home decor and accessories; effectively, the establishment of a design canon. The viewpoints enshrined in these exhibitions and partnerships were highly influential on the nation’s perception of taste for decades to come, as the trickle-down effect reached a much broader segment of consumers than those that directly experienced the museum or its exhibitions (Lawrence.) This was evident not only at high-end shops such as Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s. Even mass-market retailers sought out well-known figures of modernist design to contribute to their offerings. Sears, for example, commissioned noted modernist designer and ceramicist Russel Wright to produce a variety of serving ware and decor items exclusively for the company. Notably for this study, he was also commissioned to create a toy tea set for children. The 1957 Wishbook touts the set as “especially created to delight modern little misses”. Within its Good Design series, MoMA exhibitions celebrated numerous prominent Nordic designers who were exploring simplified forms and new material technologies. In the 1968 Wishbook, the retailer describes the Porcelain Toy Tea Set as “Danish-inspired china for young moderns”. The reference to Danish design is certainly compatible with the modernist appeal; after the explosion in popularity of Danish furniture design, the term “Danish Modern” was commonly used in the nineteen-fifties and sixties as shorthand for pan-Scandinavian or Nordic design, or more broadly for any modern furniture design regardless of origin that exhibited similar characteristics. In subsequent decades the notion of a monolithic Scandinavian-Nordic design aesthetic or movement has been debunked as primarily an economically motivated marketing ploy (Olivarez et al.; Fallan). In the United States, the term “Danish Modern” became so commonly misused that the Danish Society for Arts and Crafts called upon the American Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to legally restrict the use of the labels “Danish” and “Danish Modern” to companies genuinely originating in Denmark. Coincidentally the FTC ruled on this in 1968, noting “that ‘Danish Modern’ carries certain meanings, and... that consumers might prefer goods that are identified with a foreign culture” (Hansen 451). In the case of the Porcelain Toy Tea Set examined here, Sears was not claiming that the design was “Danish” but rather “Danish-inspired”. One must wonder, was this another coded marketing ploy to communicate a sense of “Good Design” to potential customers? An examination of the formal qualities of the set’s components, particularly the simplified geometric forms and the handle style of the cups, confirms that it is unlike a traditional—say, Victorian-style—tea set. Punchard observes that during this era some American tea sets were actually being modelled on coffee services rather than traditional tea services (148). A visual comparison of other sets sold by Sears in the same year reveals a variety of cup and pot shapes—with some similar to the set in question—while others exhibit more traditional teapot and cup shapes. Coffee culture was historically prominent in Nordic cultures so there is at least a passing reference to that aspect of Nordic—if not specifically Danish—influence in the design. But what of the decorative motif? Simple curved lines were certainly prominent in Danish furniture and architecture of this era, and occasionally found in combination with straight lines, but no connection back to any specific Danish motif could be found even after consultation with experts in the field from the Museum of Danish America and the Vesterheim National Norwegian-American Museum (personal correspondence). However, knowing that the average American consumer of this era—even the design-savvy among them—consumed Scandinavian design without distinguishing between the various nations, a possible explanation could be contained in the promotion of Finnish textiles at the time. In the decade prior to the manufacture of the tea set a major design tendency began to emerge in the United States, triggered by the geometric design motifs of the Finnish textile and apparel company Marimekko. Marimekko products were introduced to the American market in 1959 via the Cambridge, Massachusetts-based retailer Design Research (DR) and quickly exploded in popularity particularly after would-be First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy appeared in national media wearing Marimekko dresses during the 1960 presidential campaign and on the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine. (Thompson and Lange). The company’s styling soon came to epitomise a new youth aesthetic of the early nineteen sixties in the United States, a softer and more casual predecessor to the London “mod” influence. During this time multiple patterns were released that brought a sense of whimsy and a more human touch to classic mechanical patterns and stripes. The patterns Piccolo (1953), Helmipitsi (1959), and Varvunraita (1959), all designed by Vuokko Eskolin-Nurmesniemi offered varying motifs of parallel straight lines. Maija Isola's Silkkikuikka (1961) pattern—said to be inspired by the plumage of the Great Crested Grebe—combined parallel serpentine lines with straight and angled lines, available in a variety of colours. These and other geometrically inspired patterns quickly inundated apparel and decor markets. DR built a vastly expanded Cambridge flagship store and opened new locations in New York in 1961 and 1964, and in San Francisco in 1965 fuelled in no small part by the fact that they remained the exclusive outlet for Marimekko in the United States. It is clear that Marimekko’s approach to pattern influenced designers and manufacturers across industries. Design historian Lesley Jackson demonstrates that Marimekko designs influenced or were emulated by numerous other companies across Scandinavia and beyond (72-78). The company’s influence grew to such an extent that some described it as a “conquest of the international market” (Hedqvist and Tarschys 150). Subsequent design-forward retailers such as IKEA and Crate and Barrel continue to look to Marimekko even today for modern design inspiration. In 2016 the mass-market retailer Target formed a design partnership with Marimekko to offer an expansive limited-edition line in their stores, numbering over two hundred items. So, despite the “Danish” misnomer, it is quite conceivable that designers working for or commissioned by Sears in 1968 may have taken their aesthetic cues from Marimekko’s booming work, demonstrating a clear understanding of the contemporary high design aesthetic of the time and coding the marketing rhetoric accordingly even if incorrectly. Conclusion The Sears catalogue plays a unique role in capturing cross-sections of American culture not only as a sales tool but also in Holland’s words as “a beautifully illustrated diary of America, it’s [sic] people and the way we thought about things” (1). Applying a rhetorical and material culture analysis to the catalogue and the objects within it provides a unique glimpse into the roles these objects played in mediating relationships, transmitting values and embodying social practices, tastes and beliefs of mid-century American consumers. Adult consumers familiar with the characteristics of the culture of “Good Design” potentially could have made a connection between the simplified geometric forms of the components of the toy tea set and say the work of modernist tableware designers such as Kaj Franck, or between the set’s graphic pattern and the modernist motifs of Marimekko and its imitators. But for a much broader segment of the population with a less direct understanding of modernist aesthetics, those connections may not have been immediately apparent. The rhetorical messaging behind the objects’ packaging and marketing used class and taste signifiers such as modern, contemporary and “Danish” to reinforce this connection to effect an emotional and aspirational appeal. These messages were coded to position the set as an effective transmitter of modernist values and to target parents with the ambition to create “appropriately modern” environments for their children. 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Au cours de la seconde moitié du 19e siècle, une industrie textile paternaliste, Saint Frères, envahit la vallée de la Nièvre dans la Somme, en y implantant plusieurs usines et nombre d'institutions patronales. Ces établissement offrent alors à des miliers d'habitants "l'emploi à vie", bornant ainsi leur quotidien. Avec la crise de 1929 et la Seconde Guerre mondiale, la société recourt à une mise au chômage partiel et aux licenciements. Pour un certain nombre d'ouvriers, ces crises perturbent leur trajectoire de vie pourtant pensée par eux comme irréversible. Ces expériences disparates du chômage et de la guerre sont des manières différenciées de vivre la condition ouvrière qui mettent à mal l'unité de classe. Les divisions rendent alors les luttes plus difficiles. Loin des problèmes de conciliation ou de hiérarchisation des temps de la vie quotidienne d'aujourd'hui, cette recherche n'en montre pas moins les prémisses. Le temps était et reste une question de pouvoir
During the second half of the nineteenth century, a paternalistic textile industry, Saint Frères, settled in the Nièvre valley in the French department of the Somme, by planting many factories and employers' institutions. These establishments offered a "lifetime employment" to thousand of inhabitants, thus defining their daily lives. With the crisis of 1929 and the Second World War, the compagny turn to part-time work and redudancies. This crisis disrupt their life course, which they had previously considered irreversible. These ill-assorted experiences of unemployment and the war, there are differentiated ways of living a labor condition, that worsen class unity. Rifts make it harder to struggle. Even if reconciling conflicting interests and prioritization of tasks sush as we know them today, weren't top of the agenda then, this research points at what was to come. Time was and still remains a question of power

Au cours de la Première Guerre mondiale, les industries de la laine et du coton se retrouvent entraînées dans la mobilisation industrielle. L’intervention de l’État dans ces branches se révèle indispensable, et une nouvelle relation s’établit entre la puissance publique et les entreprises. La modification de la teinte de l’uniforme, sa large diffusion à près de huit millions d’appelés sur quatre ans et la perte des bassins industriels du Nord et de l’Est conduisent à la mise sous contrôle de l’État de presque toute l’industrie lainière, tandis que l’industrie cotonnière reste indépendante jusqu’en 1917. Cette relation s’étend jusque dans les importations de matières premières, avec une centralisation progressive qui exclut le commerce privé, mais associe négociants et industriels. En outre, la gestion de la main-d’œuvre constitue un défi quotidien pour les entreprises. Le besoin de travailleurs reste important, et les difficultés liées aux conditions de travail et au renchérissement de la vie entraînent des tensions sociales, malgré l’Union sacrée observée par les organisations syndicales. Dans le même temps, la perte des principaux territoires industriels représente une aubaine pour les autres régions, dont celles dont l’industrie textile est sur le déclin avant la guerre. Les fortes demandes de l’armée et les hauts prix du commerce privé entraînent des bénéfices importants, et conduisent l’État à adopter une fiscalité de guerre et réprimer les abus. Le retour des industries sinistrées à la fin du conflit, la question des dommages de guerre et la réintégration de l’Alsace-Lorraine mettent les industries textiles face à des changements radicaux
During the World War I, the industries of the wool and the cotton find themselves pulled(entailed) in the industrial mobilization. The intervention of the State in these branches shows itself essential, and a new relation becomes established between the public authorities and the companies. The modification of the colour of the uniform, its wide distribution about eight million conscripts over four years and the loss of the industrial areas of the North and east lead to the putting under control of the State of almost all the wool trade, whereas the cotton industry remains independent until 1917. This relation extends to the imports of raw materials, with a progressive centralization which excludes any private business(trade), but associates traders and industrialists. Besides, the management of the workforce constitutes a daily challenge for companies. The need in workforce remains important, and the difficulties bound in working conditions and to the increased cost living trigger social tensions, in spite of the “Union sacrée” respected by labor unions. At the same time, the loss of the main industrial territories represents a chance of a lifetime for the other regions, among which those whose textile industry is on the decline before the war. The high demands of the army and the high prices of private trade yeld important profits, and lead the State to adopt a war tax system and to repress the abuses. The return of the stricken industries at the end the conflict, the question of war damage and reinstatement of Alsace-Lorraine put the textile industries in the face of radical changes

La picardie se caracterise depuis des siecles par une riche tradition textile. Au xviiie, la population des campagnes de basse-picardie fabrique toiles a sac et toiles d'emballage. Au cours des annees 1840, la famille saint, originaire de beauval, introduit le travail d'une fibre venue d'asie, le jute. Au seuil des annees 1850, mm saint parviennent a mettre au point le metier mecanique a tisser le jute. Ces entrepreneurs opiniatres, qui possedent des maisons de vente a rouen et paris, implantent leur premiere usine a flixecourt en 1857. 50 ans plus tard, ils emploient dans leurs 13 usines de la somme, 9 000 ouvriers. Ce developpement de la grande industrie s'accompagne de realisations sociales, maisons ouvrieres, economats, caisses de secours. Elles traduisent la sollicitude des dirigeants envers les ouvriers. Ce sont les beaux jours du paternalisme. L'enrichissement considerable de la famille saint se voit dans son style de vie ; la construction du chateau de flixecourt date des annees 1880. Dans le meme temps, la famille saint catholique convaincue et pratiquante entreprend de construire une eglise a beauval pour ensuite en faire don a la commune. Mm saint sont des chefs d'industrie exigeants et rigoureux comme en temoigne la correspondance de pierre saint. Son gouvernement patronal, qui vise a maintenir l'entreprise au premier rang, ne tolere aucune forme d'opposition ; progressivement, les rapports patron/ouvriers se deteriorent. Guides par les socialistes, les ouvriers s'organisent - syndicats et cooperatives de consommation voient le jour - et affirment leur volonte d'emancipation. Des lors, l'affrontement parait inevitable, comme en 1910 a l'usine d'harondel. Le premier conflit mondial et ses suites mettent fin a la prosperite. L 'entre-deux guerres est marque par les difficultes. L'industrie jutiere francaise amorce un lent et inexorable declin. L'entreprise saint freres est reorganisee dans ses structures, les premieres fermetures d'usines interviennent. Pourtant, dans les annees 1930, les dirigeants saint freres parviennent a la mise au point d'un metier a tisser de conception revolutionnaire, le metier a tisser circulaire. Le mouvement ouvrier connait aussi ses difficultes ; la scission syndicale intervient apres le congres de tours. La tendance cgtu, proche du parti communiste, a la faveur des ouvriers des usines saint. D'un certain point de vue

Au cours de la Première Guerre mondiale, les industries de la laine et du coton se retrouvent entraînées dans la mobilisation industrielle. L’intervention de l’État dans ces branches se révèle indispensable, et une nouvelle relation s’établit entre la puissance publique et les entreprises. La modification de la teinte de l’uniforme, sa large diffusion à près de huit millions d’appelés sur quatre ans et la perte des bassins industriels du Nord et de l’Est conduisent à la mise sous contrôle de l’État de presque toute l’industrie lainière, tandis que l’industrie cotonnière reste indépendante jusqu’en 1917. Cette relation s’étend jusque dans les importations de matières premières, avec une centralisation progressive qui exclut le commerce privé, mais associe négociants et industriels. En outre, la gestion de la main-d’œuvre constitue un défi quotidien pour les entreprises. Le besoin de travailleurs reste important, et les difficultés liées aux conditions de travail et au renchérissement de la vie entraînent des tensions sociales, malgré l’Union sacrée observée par les organisations syndicales. Dans le même temps, la perte des principaux territoires industriels représente une aubaine pour les autres régions, dont celles dont l’industrie textile est sur le déclin avant la guerre. Les fortes demandes de l’armée et les hauts prix du commerce privé entraînent des bénéfices importants, et conduisent l’État à adopter une fiscalité de guerre et réprimer les abus. Le retour des industries sinistrées à la fin du conflit, la question des dommages de guerre et la réintégration de l’Alsace-Lorraine mettent les industries textiles face à des changements radicaux
During the World War I, the industries of the wool and the cotton find themselves pulled(entailed) in the industrial mobilization. The intervention of the State in these branches shows itself essential, and a new relation becomes established between the public authorities and the companies. The modification of the colour of the uniform, its wide distribution about eight million conscripts over four years and the loss of the industrial areas of the North and east lead to the putting under control of the State of almost all the wool trade, whereas the cotton industry remains independent until 1917. This relation extends to the imports of raw materials, with a progressive centralization which excludes any private business(trade), but associates traders and industrialists. Besides, the management of the workforce constitutes a daily challenge for companies. The need in workforce remains important, and the difficulties bound in working conditions and to the increased cost living trigger social tensions, in spite of the “Union sacrée” respected by labor unions. At the same time, the loss of the main industrial territories represents a chance of a lifetime for the other regions, among which those whose textile industry is on the decline before the war. The high demands of the army and the high prices of private trade yeld important profits, and lead the State to adopt a war tax system and to repress the abuses. The return of the stricken industries at the end the conflict, the question of war damage and reinstatement of Alsace-Lorraine put the textile industries in the face of radical changes

Le développement de plusieurs formes de médiation entre textile et mode sur un siècle et demi est une des sources méconnues du succès de la mode puis du prêt-à-porter en France. A compter de 1825 un dessinateur vosgien, Jean Claude, s'installe à Paris d'où il réalise des propositions de croquis pour le compte de ses clients de Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines. Il leur envoie aussi des échantillons des nouveautés qu'il identifie à Paris. En 1834 l'échantillonnage devient son activité. Installé dans le quartier du Sentier à Paris Jean Claude développe son activité vers les industriels, mais aussi à compter de 1855 les écoles (Roubaix) et les associations de dessinateurs (Mulhouse). Médaillé à l'Exposition Universelle de 1878 à Paris sa réussite ne laisse pas indifférente une concurrence qui s'étoffe : l'échantillonnage médiatise les nouveautés de la mode vis à vis des professionnels du textile et France et à l'étranger. A partir de 1920 la présence accrue des grands magasins new-yorkais à Paris fait émerger un nouveau métier: le stylisme. Des « bureaus of stylists » sont créés au sein des départements d'achats des grands magasins new-yorkais installés à Paris. C'est aussi le début d'une histoire de la mode en conversation entre Paris et New York. Après la Seconde Guerre mondiale l'influence américaine par le biais de la presse féminine et des missions de productivité facilite l'essor de stylistes femmes à Paris contemporain de la diffusion du prêt-à-porter. A la fin des années 1950 un premier bureau de style est créé et trois autres dans les années 1960. Les bureaux de style acquièrent une influence croissante confirmant ainsi le rôle de la médiation dans l'élaboration de la mode
The development of several forms of mediation between textile and fashion over a century and a haIf is a little-known sources of success of fashion and ready-to-wear in France. As of 1825 a designer from the Vosges mountains, Jean Claude, moved to Paris where he made sketches of proposals on behalf of its clients in Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines. He also sends samples of novelties that he identifies in Paris. In 1834 sampling becomes its activity. Established in the Sentier district in Paris, Jean Claude develops its activities toward industrials and from 1855 to schools (Roubaix) and associations of designers (Mulhouse). With a medal at the Exposition Universelle of 1878 in Paris Jean Claude's success bolsters new competition: sampling mediates the latest fashion trends towards professional textile in France and abroad. From 1920 the increased presence in Paris of buyers' offices for the department stores from New York drives the emergence of a new profession: the styling within the brand new 'bureaus of stylists ". It is also the beginning of a history in conversation between Paris and New York in the fashion world. After World War II American influence through women's magazines and productivity missions facilitates the development of women designers in Paris. In the late 1950s a first bureau of stylist is created and three others in the 1960s. Bureaus of stylist gain increasing influence thus confirming the role of mediation in the development of fashion

Devant les nouveaux besoins militaires qu’a fait naître la Première Guerre mondiale, la France s’est trouvée devant le défi de faire évoluer les structures de son industrie chimique. La nécessité d’opérer un changement d’échelle se vérifie particulièrement dans le cas de l’azote, lorsque sous l’effet de la guerre sous-marine, les approvisionnements du pays en nitrates de soude chiliens sont mis à mal. Sans le soutien de ses alliés, la France aurait alors pu se trouver à court de poudres et d’explosifs. Une fois l’armistice signé, les dirigeants politiques encouragent l’implantation sur le sol national d’usines d’ammoniaque synthétique de manière à tendre simultanément vers l’indépendance en matière militaire et agricole (engrais azotés). En 1924, est créé à Toulouse l’Office national industriel de l’Azote (ONIA). Cette création participe de la mise en œuvre d’une politique chimique française plus volontariste qu’auparavant. Toutefois, son contenu est plus complexe qu’il n’y paraît, dans la mesure où l’État n’accompagne pas la création de cette entreprise d’un monopole sur le marché, mais impose à cette dernière de cohabiter avec des concurrents privés.Au moyen d’une étude de cas consacrée à l’ONIA, cette thèse de doctorat ambitionne de livrer une socio-histoire du problème soulevé par la question de l’azote en France entre 1918 et 1940. Par le moyen d’une histoire d’entreprise qui se veut « totale » dans son approche et qui s’efforce de conjuguer les échelles locale, nationale et internationale, elle souhaite comprendre comment cet office public a été conçu et mis en œuvre comme réponse au défi de l’azote. Retracer la trajectoire industrielle de l’ONIA doit parallèlement aider à éclairer les enjeux qui ont présidé à la matérialisation de cette réponse à l’échelon du pays, de même qu’à mettre en exergue les difficultés qui en ont accompagné la réalisation que ce soit sur le plan technique, économique, politique ou social. Parce qu’elle s’inscrit à la charnière des trois entités que sont l’État, l’usine et le marché, cette histoire d’entreprise permet d’interroger les jeux d’acteurs qui ont pris forme en leur sein et, de ce fait, d’évaluer la capacité qu’ont eu ces derniers à s’entendre sur l’organisation d’une filière aussi stratégique, où intérêts publics et intérêts privés apparaissent étroitement mêlés. Ce travail a également pour objectif de questionner les résultats concrets obtenus par l’entreprise sur le moyen terme et, en outre, de déterminer les retombées qu’a eues la politique initiée par les pouvoirs publics en ce qui concerne la couverture des besoins du pays en produits azotés. S’est-elle révélée concluante en définitive ? Dans ce processus, l’ONIA a-t-il confirmé les attentes placées en lui ? Cette recherche a pour but enfin, d’analyser les diverses pratiques déployées par l’État en tant qu’employeur et industriel au sein d’une filière dépourvue de monopole. Il s’agit entre autres, d’évaluer quelle a été sa capacité à s’adapter aux exigences d’une économie concurrentielle à une époque où les pouvoirs publics n’ont encore que peu d’expérience en matière d’exploitation directe d’affaires de ce type. Cette étude sur le développement de l’Office et de sa filière apparaît donc intéressante pour montrer qu’à rebours des schémas communément admis sur l’entre-deux-guerres, la notion d’entrepreneuriat d’État ne semble pas s’opposer à celle de marché, ni à celle d’une possible concurrence avec le secteur privé. Dans notre cas d’espèce, ces deux logiques se trouvent même étroitement liées au sein d’un cadre institutionnel régi par des conventions, et dont l’évolution donne à voir un mélange original entre des principes libéraux et des principes dirigistes
Faced with the new military needs created by the First World War, France was faced with the challenge of changing the structures of its chemical industry. The need for a change of scale was particularly evident in the case of nitrogen, when the country's supplies of Chilean soda nitrates were jeopardized by submarine warfare. Without the support of its allies, France might then have run out of powders and explosives. Once the armistice was signed, the political leaders encouraged the establishment of synthetic ammonia plants on national soil in order to simultaneously move towards independence in military and agricultural matters (nitrogen fertilizers). In 1924, the Office national industriel de l'Azote (ONIA) was created in Toulouse. This creation was part of the implementation of a French chemical policy that was more proactive than before. However, its content is more complex than it seems, insofar as the State does not accompany the creation of this company with a monopoly on the market, but imposes on it to cohabit with private competitors.By means of a case study devoted to the ONIA, this doctoral thesis aims to provide a socio-history of the problem raised by the nitrogen issue in France between 1918 and 1940. Through a history of a company that wants to be "total" in its approach and that strives to combine the local, national and international scales, it wishes to understand how this public office was conceived and implemented as a response to the nitrogen challenge. At the same time, retracing the industrial trajectory of ONIA should help to shed light on the issues that led to the materialisation of this response at the national level, as well as highlighting the difficulties that accompanied its realisation, whether on a technical, economic, political or social level. Because it is at the crossroads of the three entities of the State, the factory and the market, this corporate history makes it possible to question the interplay of actors that has taken shape within them and, consequently, to assess their ability to agree on the organization of such a strategic sector, where public and private interests appear to be closely intertwined. This work also aims to question the concrete results obtained by the company in the medium term and, in addition, to determine the impact that the policy initiated by the public authorities has had in covering the country's needs in nitrogen products. Was it ultimately conclusive? In this process, has ONIA confirmed the expectations placed in it? Finally, the aim of this research is to analyse the various practices deployed by the State as an employer and an industrialist within a sector that does not have a monopoly. Among other things, it is a question of assessing its ability to adapt to the requirements of a competitive economy at a time when the public authorities still have little experience in directly operating this type of business. This study on the development of the Office and its sector is therefore of interest in order to show that, in contrast to the patterns commonly accepted between the two world wars, the concept of State entrepreneurship does not seem to be opposed to that of the market or to that of possible competition with the private sector. In our case, these two logics are even closely linked within an institutional framework governed by conventions, the evolution of which shows an original mix between liberal and dirigiste principles