MY TRIP TO MECCA
Seeing Pop-ups Made

by Ellen G.K. Rubin
(reprinted from Movable Stationery vol.8 no.3 August 2000)

Trekking through the plant, I saw workers at their tables with bowed heads and incessantly moving hands. Despite the surprising lack of conversation -handwork takes concentration- it was a relaxed atmosphere. At the end of each table was a yellow ‘happy face’ swaying slightly on a metal coil. If a row was having assembly problems, the ‘happy face’ was replaced with a frowning one to alert the line supervisor of a difficulty. There were few ‘frowns’ in the plant while I was there. I was told Cargraphics in Cali has a "Preliminary Studies" department which goes over the production of each book before the printed die-cuts leave for Ibarra. Many supervisors attributed the smooth work-flow to this innovative department.

One wall of the plant was lined with workshops and offices. The first large room was divided between a long table ringed with chairs and smaller tables where individual projects-now the Brooklyn Pops Up-Limited Edition- were going on. During my stay, the long table held new employees who were learning how to work on the assembly line. Sample projects were used to teach different assembly techniques. For example, a device called a rigging, a board of nails in the shape of a single die-cut, held each piece so that the assembler can glue another part in precisely the same place. In several other rooms doubling as offices, line supervisors sat at small round tables putting together individual spreads, working out the kinks. I marveled at them scurrying from office to office or office to assembly line holding different spreads from Brooklyn Pops Up, each spread making our plans a reality. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud watching the frankfurters being assembled; first, glue the two parts of the hot dog, then, glue it into the bun, finally, add on rick-racks of mustard. These women could have worked at any hot dog stand on the streets of New York!

Walking around, it was jarring to glance at the cadaverous face from The Human Body and the delicate house of cards from Alice in Wonderland used as work mats on the assembly tables. Most disorienting of all was chancing upon the balletic horseback riders from Meggendorfer’s International Circus pirouetting out of a bin of recyclables. Entering the middle room, the largest, I was caught up short. From wall to wall, behind glass doors, Cargraphic’s current archives were housed. The seeker had found the Holy Grail. While obviously not Cargraphic’s full 27 year output, this certainly was a mother lode. Familiar spines, many with foreign titles, beckoned to me. More compelling were the unfamiliar titles, books either produced before I started collecting or those only published for non-American consumption or those which made me squeal, "I never saw this one!" I opened cabinet after cabinet removing and furtively examining each book occasionally looking over my shoulder. Certainly, such joy was illegal. I must be doing something verboten, something which has a "Thou shalt not..." before it.

It was a great learning experience to not only watch the catalog being assembled but to listen to Alvaro and Robert discuss how the assembly was going. One would think there would be many more problems with glue points considering the speed with which the workers applied it, the loose wad of cotton threads they used to clean their work, and the folding and stacking of spreads which ensued. The greatest revelation I had was the attention to detail paid by everyone up and down the chain of command. I seemed blind not seeing the necessity of the subtle changes made. Supervisors continued to point out phantom glue marks and hitches in movements. They all looked fine to me. (By now I was looked on as the Village Idiot, smiling as I was.)

But the smiles were not mine alone. The people of Cargraphics, from Alvaro and Guillermo down to the box handlers responded to my obvious joy. I can’t imagine they have ever had a visitor so demonstrably excited. Snapping pictures in their faces (after saying, "Con su permiso." first), they smiled back seeming to appreciate how much I valued what they did. And they wanted to thank me, a totally unnecessary gesture, to be sure. But thank me they did in the one currency they knew I valued most. Guillermo took me aside and said he would like me to help myself to whatever books I wanted. !!!!!! I looked over at Robert asking with my eyes, "Does he know what he’s getting into? Is he for real?" Robert grinned and barely nodded his head. He was saying, "It’s real. Go for it!!!" I was being given absolution for the Sin of Gluttony.

Guillermo escorted me to a room hidden from view and opened the doors. Kept dark like a shrine, he put on the lights. It was an entire room of pop-ups books in all languages, some editions and formats I had never seen before! I taught Guillermo the English phrase, ‘Like a kid in a candystore.’ He knew it was an apt expression. Nora, the receptionist who had seen to it we were never without water, was instructed to help me choose. Why prolong this? I sent home 2 cartons of books. I left large spaces on those shelves and had to make equal ones at home. I hope the people of Cargraphics remember me fondly as I will them. Maybe they will refer to me as ‘The Lady of the Perpetual Smile’.

CHIMBORAZO-seen behind the Cargraphics plant in Ibarra, Ecuador

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