NIPA DOSHI’S DESIGN APPROACH TRANSLATES BEAUTY INTO ACTION • THREE LESSONS FOR THE FUTURE, DRAWN FROM THE LEGACY OF WOMEN IN DESIGN—FROM EILEEN GRAY, LOUISE BRIGHAM AND THE ICONIC CHARLOTTE PERRIAND, TO CONTEMPORARY NAMES SHAPING EVER-NEW AND INNOVATIVE PRACTICES • PATRICIA URQUIOLA ON BRINGING THE FUTURE FORWARD, AND HOW THE BEST IDEAS ALWAYS EMERGE FROM THE SHADOWS OF UNCERTAINTY • A POSTCARD FROM THE EVER-TICKING MIND OF MICHAEL ANASTASSIADES • PLUS: MOBILIA LANDS IN MELBOURNE
PERSPECTIVE:
POSTER ARTWORK: EARTH TO
BY DOSHI LEVIEN
COVER ARTWORK: LE CABINET BY DOSHI LEVIEN
ART DIRECTION: SAM FAZZARI
DESIGNER: BEC STAWELL WILSON
EDITED BY: EMMA PEGRUM
ROSA BERTOLI IS AN ITALIANBORN, LONDON-BASED WRITER AND HAS BEEN THE DESIGN EDITOR OF WALLPAPER* SINCE 2014.
VIVIANE STAPPMANNS IS A CURATOR AT THE VITRA DESIGN MUSEUM IN WEIL AM RHEIN, GERMANY. HER LATEST EXHIBITION “HERE WE ARE! WOMEN IN DESIGN 1900–TODAY” IS CURRENTLY TOURING EUROPE.
PATRICIA URQUIOLA HAS BEEN THE ART DIRECTOR OF CASSINA SINCE 2015 AND IS ONE OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL DESIGNERS OF THE CONTEMPORARY ERA.
NINA MILHAUD IS A FRENCHVIETNAMESE JOURNALIST AND EDITOR BASED IN HONG KONG. SHE’S CURRENTLY ASIA EDITOR AT DESIGN ANTHOLOGY AND WAS PREVIOUSLY A WRITER AT MONOCLE.
EMMA PEGRUM IS AN AUSTRALIAN JOURNALIST AND EDITOR WHOSE WRITING HAS BEEN PUBLISHED BY TITLES SUCH AS T AUSTRALIA: THE NEW YORK TIMES STYLE MAGAZINE AND HARPERS BAZAAR.
AMY WOODROFFE IS A WRITER AND THE FOUNDER OF CREATIVE STUDIO VÆRNIS. SHE WAS FORMERLY BRAND DIRECTOR AT KINFOLK.
Top–Bottom: Nipa Doshi by Rodrigo Carmuega; Patricia Urquiola by Claudia Zalla; Michael Anastassiades by Osma Harvilahti.
A Note From Mobilia
SALVATORE FAZZARI
MOBILIA FOUNDER
For as long as I can remember, I have loved furniture.
When my father migrated from Italy to Australia, he set up a furniture manufacturing business in Perth and my aunty and uncle set up an adjoining upholstery workshop. I have fond memories of running between my father’s woodworking factory and the upholstery workroom: the smell of the timber, the offcuts I would find on the ground and entertain myself with. I remember admiring my father, the master craftsman, who always worked with a pencil behind his ear.
I was fascinated by watching raw materials enter the factory and be transformed into beautiful pieces of furniture, and I saw first-hand the joy it brought clients. I considered that process magic—and I still do.
When I wasn’t following my father around the workshop I would spend my time perched on the cutting tables watching my aunty sew and cut the sofa patterns. I’d observe with wonder the eccentric designers who would come to inspect progress on their work. At lunch time, my aunty would often cook lunch for the team—mostly pasta. These memories stick with me; memories of excitement, discovery, tradition and family.
Fast forward to my young adulthood, and I found a new obsession: design. I became fascinated, consumed, utterly obsessed with the world of design. It didn’t take long for me to put two and two together that a future in designer furniture awaited me.
A thesis on Sottsass and some years of study later, we opened our first furniture store in Claremont, Western Australia, housing mainly my father’s handcrafted one-off pieces.
I still recall my first visit to the Salone del Mobile in 2010. It was on that trip that I fell in love with Milano and its design culture. I was enamoured by Patricia Urquiola’s Moroso stand and her pieces from that year, some of which changed the way I thought about craftsmanship.
Another pivotal trip to the annual Salone was in 2014 when I decided to sneak into the EDIDA awards to meet some of my design idols. The energy in the room was electric. I was home. I had found my community.
A friend invited me to the afterparty, and there I rubbed shoulders with some of my favourite designers: Patricia Urquiola, Michael Anastassiades, Konstantin Grcic and Jaime Hayon. That year, Doshi Levien won the EDIDA Designer of the Year Award. I had only just become familiar with their work. At the party, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Nice jacket mister,” the voice came. “Very Memphis indeed.” It was Nipa Doshi, dressed to perfection and basking in the glow of her award.
Our common love for Ettore saw us become fast friends. The following year, Nipa and her partner Jonathan flew to Australia and joined us as the special guest speakers for our annual charity event, The Design Circus, where we share the stories of prolific designers with the community and raise funds for charity. Over the years, we’ve had guests such as Michael Anastassiades, Patrizia Moroso, Jamie Hayon and other design industry friends, and raised money for many important organisations.
It became clear to me quite quickly, after my first visit to the Salone, that I wanted to elevate our family company, and since that time we have slowly transitioned it to become what it is today: a hand-selected portfolio of incredible, world-leading brands, with whom I feel we share a DNA of furniture made with integrity, respect for tradition, and passion.
Mobilia Journal is the culmination of a long story, and the beginning of a new one; it’s a place to share the conversations, perspectives and insights gathered through our work with the world’s brightest design and creative minds.
Further visits to Milano, personal tours of the inspiring studios of amazing designers like Piero Lissoni and Patricia Urquiola, and daily conversations with close friend and mentor Alex Alorda from Kettal, had me full of aspiration for the future. Eventually, I knew it was time to take Mobilia national, and just as importantly, to start speaking to our clients, design lovers and friends about Mobilia’s culture, who we are and what we value.
More than ten years later, here we are opening our third showroom, our flagship store in Melbourne, and launching what is our first broadsheet, Mobilia Journal.
Mobilia Journal is a place for conversations, perspectives and insights from our friends, our heroes, our partners, our peers. It’s a place people can come to learn, to feel connected to global thinking and to be inspired.
My long-standing relationship with Nipa and Jonathan makes it especially fitting that we launch this first issue with their work featured throughout. From the Le Cabinet cover, to Rosa Bertoli’s insightful profile of Nipa, through to a special lift-out keepsake, this issue oozes the wonderful world of Doshi Levien and I feel honoured to have had the opportunity to collaborate with them both on another first for Mobilia.
Among other highlights in these pages, we receive a postcard from my dear friend and exceptional modern thinker Michael Anastassiades, who provides an insight into the many important things that populate his creative process. We are also taken directly into one of the great design minds of our century—that of Patricia Urquiola. It is a privilege to hear her first person account of what she sees for the future of design and how her process is shifting accordingly. I am humbled and honoured to publish these contributions.
Beyond that, we share conversations between our editor and the tirelessly creative London-based designer Bethan Laura Wood as well as, closer to home, Melbourne designer and friend David Flack. David’s talk of using his platform to build community and enact change in a meaningful way resonates strongly with me.
We also consider the influence of many great female architects and designers over the past century and today in Vitra Design Museum curator Viviane Stappmanns’ highly researched feature. It is encouraging to see that there is growing recognition for the work of these sometimes lesser-known yet no less important figures in design, and, as Viviane points out, there are many lessons we can take from their legacy to shape a better future.
On that note, I am proud to work with many remarkable, talented and energetic local women without the tireless work, great thought and ability of whom I could not have brought Mobilia or the Mobilia Journal to reality. A very special mention to my partner Mirella Scaramella for her endless dedication, amazing editor Emma Pegrum, designer Bec Stawell Wilson and to Sarah Langley, a great asset to both the Mobilia team and this publication.
Mobilia Journal marks an important part of the Mobilia journey. It is the realisation of all our years spent gathering stories, insights and ideas. In a way, this is the end of one chapter and a beautiful start to another. This is the culture of Mobilia that we are happy to share with the world.
This broadsheet is dedicated to Joan Ramon Pesarrodona (of Kettal). Thank you for your belief in us from the start, for showing me the ropes in Milano and for the keys. R.I.P my brother.
Mobilia Melbourne, located at 510 Church Street, Richmond. Photography: Jack Lovel.
The new Mobilia website.
Giro armchair, designed by Vincent Van Duysen for Kettal (2021).
News From Mobilia
MOBILIA NEWS SHOWROOM BULLETIN
Limited Edition Michael Anastassiades, Only at Mobilia
London-based designer Michael Anastassiades is known for his minimal yet sculptural lighting designs. To mark the opening of Mobilia’s showroom in Melbourne, a limited edition iteration of one of Anastassiades’ most recognisable pieces, the Tip of the Tongue table lamp, is landing exclusively at Mobilia—with a striking blue patina base. Anastassiades’ work is featured in permanent collections at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Art Institute of Chicago, the Victoria & Albert Museum in London and the MAK in Vienna, and his pieces have become some of the most sought-after by interior designers around the world. Originally designed in 2013, the Tip of the Tongue table lamp features a mouthblown opaline sphere that appears to roll down the edge of a solid brass base. The blue finish is achieved through an artisanal technique of applying pigments by hand during a hot patination process—transforming the brass while retaining its quality. The result is a painterly, stippling blue, reminiscent of the gemstone lapis lazuli, that will subtly change over time. This elegant feature, poised on the base’s edge as if frozen mid-roll, evokes the familiar phenomenon of failing to retrieve a word from memory: “It’s on the tip of my tongue!”.
Find out more at mobilia.com.au, or order online exclusively at shop.mobilia.com.au. $1890.00.
Australia’s First Look: Kettal’s Giro Collection by Vincent Van Duysen
In their debut collaboration, leading Spanish outdoor furniture company Kettal and renowned Belgian architect and designer Vincent Van Duysen produce Giro, a new collection of armchairs, sofas and coffee tables inspired by investigations
into the materiality of rope. Van Duysen is a regular name in Elle Decor’s A-List and the Architectural Digest’s AD100 survey, in which his work was described as having an almost “monastic purity”. His portfolio is flush with an array of quietly beautiful commissions, such as the Winery W by Vinetiq in Puurs, Belgium, the Kvadrat showroom in Milan and several rooms in Kim Kardashian’s US$23m Calabasas compound.
In Giro, Van Duysen was inspired by the traditional Orkney chair—a chair typically made in the Scottish archipelago of the same name, dating back more than a century. An agrarian society, the Orcadians were resourceful craftspeople, and the chairs were made from materials gathered from their surrounds, such as straw, and driftwood washed onto their shores by relentless winds off the Atlantic and North Sea. Traditionally, the sea straw was woven in a rope-like fashion to make the chair backs. Van Duysen updates this intricate craft using Kettal’s technological expertise to industrially produce recycled polypropylene rope, resulting in a textural, robust and flexible chair.
The Giro collection by Vincent Van Duysen for Kettal is available to view for the first time in Australia at Mobilia’s new Melbourne showroom, at 510 Church Street, Richmond.
More Mobilia: A Realm of Discovery
The latest addition to Mobilia’s recently launched website, More Mobilia is a whole new section dedicated to sharing a world of design through recipes, interviews and playlists from leading design identities, as well as recent projects and feature articles. Pour over an insightful interview with Patrizia Moroso, or cook up a personal recipe from Nipa Doshi—both to the tune of Patricia Urquiola’s contemplative playlist, curated for Mobilia. You can also visit Mobilia’s main website
to discover their range of furniture, lighting and design objects from the world’s most eminent brands.
Read, play, listen at mobilia.com.au/more.
Introducing Shop Mobilia
Shop Mobilia is a dedicated online platform for designer objects, books and limited edition prints by some of the world’s most acclaimed designers and artists. Curated to bridge the gap between the worlds of culture and design,
Shop Mobilia contains a range of pieces representing both historical and current design movements—producing a shopping experience accessible to a contemporary audience.
Find your next purchase at shop.mobilia.com.au.
Poltrona Frau: 110 Years of Italian Excellence
This year, historic Italian leather atelier Poltrona Frau celebrates 110 years as a leader in high-end Made in Italy furniture, after last year being recognised as a Historic Brand of National Interest by the Italian government. To mark this milestone anniversary, Poltrona Frau has released a limited edition of their iconic Archibald armchair designed by JeanMarie Massaud in 2009 and now reinterpreted by ArgentineSpanish artist Felipe Pantone through an unexpected language of vibrant colours. This release of an apt 110 pieces will be upholstered with the new Pelle Frau® Impact Less Leather, which is tanned with natural ingredients and without the use of chromium, for reduced environmental impact.
Discover Poltrona Frau exclusively at Mobilia locations nationally or online at mobilia.com.au.
Limited edition Tip of the Tongue table lamp, designed by Michael Anastassiades with blue patina base. Exclusively available at Mobilia. Photography by Alexandros Pissourios
Nipa Doshi. Photography by Rodrigo Carmuega.
Nipa Doshi: Beauty in Action
ROSA BERTOLI
Born in Mumbai, renowned designer Nipa Doshi grew up in Delhi, fascinated with the beauty of local customs, seasonality and craft. “I think that from very early on, I really had an eye for beauty, even though I didn’t know it yet,” she says. Doshi’s memory of her early life in India flows as a string of beautiful vignettes: her grandparents’ Art Deco house in Bombay, the dusty pink family house in Delhi, the workshops where craftsmen fixed bicycles and cut large reams of paper, the tailor and milk vendor who shared a shop with a buffalo casually living in the space. “It was a real mix of modernity, ancient rituals and a very interconnected way of life,” she recalls. “That plurality of influences is something that is really part of me.”
She credits much of her distinctive creative approach to those early years, a time that has come to shape her understanding of design as gestures, rather than objects. “You don’t realise how much your family and the things you grew up with influence you. I used to just love the way the bed was made every day. The way my grandmother would bathe before she entered the kitchen. Design was little human actions.”
Since it was founded in 2000, Doshi Levien has successfully combined cultural influences and creative attitudes into collaborations with some of Europe’s most illustrious furniture companies, from Moroso to B&B Italia and Hay. “Our friendship is very much rooted in us working together,” Doshi says of her and Levien’s partnership. The two hit it off immediately after meeting at the Royal College of Art (RCA) in the 1990s, graduating during a time of optimism for young creatives.
A variety of cultural influences shape Nipa Doshi’s design approach, which culminates in the distinct world of the London studio she runs with partner Jonathan Levien, Doshi Levien.
Doshi’s London studio is a former 19th-century furniture workshop she shares with her husband and creative partner Jonathan Levien. Facing a park, the light in the room is softly modulated by the trees outside; its calm punctuated by the buzzing east London streets below. Everywhere in the bright room are signs of the studio’s diverse creative output: lamps from their Earth to Sky collection, defined by expertly crafted organic forms, elegantly rest in the space. On one wall is a tapestry representing icons of Chandigarh, from their Object of Devotion Daybed for Paris’ Galerie Kreo; on another hang life-sized wood and cardboard chair prototypes, also doubling as a resting spot for papers.
A corner is dedicated to a workshop, with models in paper, wood and clay occupying a table, mid-creation. A yellow Capo armchair, a design they created for Cappellini, sits next to a series of bookcases that are heavy under the weight of books that cover all aspects of design, from monographs on design giants like Ettore Sottsass and Gino Sarfatti, to art books and tomes on Indian interiors.
The sense of creative freedom here is palpable, the shared cultures of its occupants evident in every object, from Doshi Levien’s own pieces to the found objects and sketches with which they’ve populated their workspace.
The relevance of Doshi’s diverse background wasn’t immediately clear to her during her study at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, in western India, in the 1980s, but it emerged as she learned about European design as the dominant canon. “There was a dissonance in how we were being taught design, and what was the design at our doorstep, and I became aware of that.” This awareness erupted once she left India for London, as she looked back to those traditions, customs and craft to realise their richness. It’s become a bigger creative force that still drives her work, and is at the centre of the work of Doshi Levien. In London, she dreamed of working with Jasper Morrison, who became her friend and a mentor and helped her set the course of her design career, first recommending her to the RCA, and later putting her forward for a job designing furniture at David Chipperfield’s office. The kindness of the design community in those early years has remained with Doshi, and sharing that kindness is something she believes strongly in. “Jonathan and I believe that design is good for design, it’s good for our industry that people are trained well and have the skills,” she says. “You should pass on your own learning and knowledge.”
A few distinctive, overarching features are present throughout Doshi Levien’s work; a certain curve in the lines, a sinuosity of forms, a particular attention to colour composition and the way subtle cultural references are woven into each design’s aesthetic. “[Our work] is plural, varied,” Doshi offers, when asked if she feels there is a distinctive trait in the studio’s work. “Because we never start a design on the computer, it’s the presence of the hand in the making that defines our works.” The creation of each piece is a fluid process. Function is intuitive (“we just know that what we do is going to work”), so the pair focuses on the feeling of an object, an artwork, sometimes even a dream.
My Beautiful Backside sofa, designed by Doshi Levien for Moroso (2008). A collection of seats whose backrests are a composition of highly coloured, floating cushions in various shapes. The use of oversized symbols, such as the buttons on cushion backs, provide a means of customising each chair, making them unique, just as you would add little distinguishing touches to an article of clothing.
“Our work is plural, varied, ... Because we never start a design on the computer, it’s the presence of the hand in the making that defines our works.”
Projects often start as a colourful illustration in one of Doshi’s many sketchbooks (multidimensional creative exercises that include drawings, painting, writing, collaging and paper cutting, created on vintage notebooks she sources from Hong Kong), or as a handmade model, made with paper, clay or wire by Levien (whose background is in cabinetmaking). They then often swap, interpreting each other’s compositions using different media, scales and dimensions, developing the design together from there. “And then of course, there’s a cultural reference,” Doshi says. “I feel that there is another world in our pieces.”
Combining worlds has been the Doshi Levien modus operandi from the start, thanks to Doshi’s early influences and Levien’s natural curiosity for global cultures. Doshi recalls the duo’s first project together, which originated from a proposal they sent to kitchenware brand Tefal after a trip to India, as they were just beginning their collaboration. “Cookware is so culturally focused, but we realised that a lot of European brands were selling products [in Asia and South America] without understanding the culinary culture of those places.”
Their idea: to create products based on the existing materials and technology (such as non-stick coating), tailored to local food traditions. The range included a Tagine for Morocco, an Indian Karahi, a Wok, and a Fajita pan, the company’s distinctive patterns subtly translated to reflect each culture’s motifs. That moment, Doshi recalls, “was when I realised that cultural knowledge, and not just technical skills, is relevant and necessary to do design. And that it could have commercial value to a company.” One day around that time, one of the two answered the phone with an inadvertent “Doshi Levien”. That casual greeting officially marked the formation of the studio.
Their first Italian commission came in 2007 from Moroso, a company with which they felt an affinity thanks to creative director Patrizia Moroso’s eclectic stance and diverse, open-minded approach to furniture design. The first of what would become many projects with Moroso was the Charpoy series of daybeds. A fitting example of bringing cultural references into their designs, it was inspired by the ubiquitous, multifunctional Indian daybed and its embroidered textile upholstery (created in collaboration with
women in the state of Gujarat) was a nod to the dice game of Chaupar. “This collection was key because it introduced us into the world of design in Italy, and there’s no escaping that you need to be in the Italian design world [as a designer], it has so much power.” Other pieces for Moroso have since included the My Beautiful Backside sofa and the Paper Plane chair, the latter’s shape simply originating from a folded piece of paper.
More Italian brands followed, as they designed furniture for Cappellini and B&B Italia. Working with Italians in particular feels right to Doshi, with these companies prioritising craftsmanship and human connection, and favouring low-tech methods such as sketching and modelmaking. Beyond Italy, their portfolio covers a design spectrum that encompasses different media and distribution that ranges from the mainstream to the limited edition. Their output includes armchairs for Kettal (for which they also curate the colour and textile palettes), a series of textiles for Danish company Kvadrat, rugs for Nanimarquina and furniture designs for Hay, for which they recently created a sartorially inspired sofa design.
Design seems to be present in every facet of Doshi’s life, from her care and curiosity for everyday objects, to the environment of her family home, an apartment in London’s legendary brutalist Barbican complex, where they have lived for the past 14 years. “When you live in the Barbican, you feel like the whole complex belongs to you,” she says, referencing the 40-acre estate conceived in the 1960s by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon and comprising restaurants, theatres, cinemas and private gardens that generate a strong sense of community. “Buying our apartment in the Barbican felt like we were buying design,” she says. “For us, design is not limited to what we do but also where we live. And the Barbican is a design classic: everywhere you look is a composition, everything is perfectly framed.”
It’s easy to feel that Doshi’s unique impact on the world of objects is but a glimpse into a larger vision, formed over four decades of design education and experience, but also from observing with fascination the world around her.
“Objects are witness to existence. I love the idea that design can embody human civilisation and the human ability to make things, the skill and the creativity. I suppose that’s what I want to do: I want to create pieces that embody something beyond design, and to reveal a secret world of gestures made of ritual history, memory and architecture.”
Doshi Levien Earth to Sky collection in fabrication at the atelier. Photography by Doshi Levien.The objects in this collection are formed through the art of metal-shaping, with relatively simple rolling machines used for restoring sophisticated car bodies of the E-Type and XK1 Jaguars. The sculptural forms of the shades were arrived at through a process of pattern cutting and forming similar to that employed for structural garments. Each individual shape is made of at least two pieces of automotive-grade aluminium that are beaten into shape on a wooden block with a mallet, then seamlessly welded together to form the complete shape.
Above: Lighting from the Doshi Levien Earth to Sky collection (2019). L–R: Cantilever table lamp; Marble table lamp; Double suspension floor lamp; Single sconce light. Photography by Jonas Lindström. Right: Doshi Levien Earth to Sky single wall-mounted lamp. Photography by Jonas Lindström.
Above: Nipa Doshi and Jonathan Levien. Photography by Jonas Lindström. Right: Doshi Levien Paper Planes collection for Moroso at the Stockholm Furniture Fair. Behind: Doshi Levien Cala high backed armchair for Kettal. Photography: Jonas Lindström.
The Legacy of Women in Design THEN VIVIANE STAPPMANNS
In 1927, 24-year old architect Charlotte Perriand (1903-1999), approached Swiss architect and designer Charles-Édouard Jeanneret (1887-1965), better known under his pseudonym Le Corbusier, to apply for work at his studio in Paris. The visit was brief: he is said to have rebuked her with a gruff “We don’t embroider cushions here”. Just a month later, Le Corbusier found himself at Perriand’s 1927 Salon d’Automne exhibition Bar Sous le Toit, her seminal first foray into the realm of curved, tubular chrome that is so well-known today. He immediately hired her to run his furniture design business. As such history powerfully illustrates, in design, stereotypes can be pervasive—but they don’t need to prevail.
In the narrative of modernist design, women are repeatedly cast in domestic roles while a handful of celebrated and interconnected hero figures are the revered leads. Gropius, Breuer, Johnson, Le Corbusier, Beyer, Nelson or Loewy—they visited and worked at the same prestigious schools, and were connected through friendships, feuds and loose ties with other members of their exclusive all-boys clubs. This is not a revelation. But since the 1970s, singular and collective efforts by feminist scholars—mostly from art and architecture, rather than industrial design—have worked to redress the balance.
In recent decades, many prolific and influential women have been rediscovered, their working biographies painstakingly reconstructed, their archives preserved, and their stories told to large audiences via exhibitions and publications. Among them are the likes of Brazilian architect Lina Bo Bardi (1914-1992) and the Bauhaus Women, and the so-called “Damsels in Design”—a group of designers who worked at General Motors in the 1950s after management realised many car purchases were instigated by women.
Far from being historical footnotes, women designers through the past century have created a legacy of smart, socially-minded design that continues, and is even more prescient, today.
Importantly, looking at women in design reveals more than simply lost and obscured names. Revisiting and assessing the contributions and achievements of female practitioners can also equip us with tools to construct a new understanding of a more diverse, inclusive practice of design for the future. A full assessment is beyond the possibilities of such a short article, but here are three quick lessons with which to begin.
Lesson One: Our systems of value are out of date
Throughout design history, just as today, a prestigious education and potent network has been a guarantee of success. For anyone who doubts the truth of this, I
recommend perusing the participant lists of get-togethers such as the International Congresses of Modern Architecture (CIAM), founded by 28 architects in Switzerland in 1928, or the International Design Conference in Aspen, inaugurated in 1951 in the eponymous resort town in Colorado. Both reveal that the agenda-setters of that time were intimately connected, looked out for each other when it came to arranging for work, teaching gigs at Harvard or publishing one another. Such exclusive networks, to this day, serve to provide a seal of approval: “They studied at xyz”, “They work with xyz”.
But it is precisely this attitude that gives us blinkers. Take, for instance, Eileen Gray (1878-1976). Although privileged and wealthy, Irish-born Gray battled gender stereotypes throughout her career. She opened her first gallery in Paris under a male pseudonym, Jean Désert, in 1922, and later became renowned for two iconic buildings and their interiors she designed—one for her partner, another entirely for herself—at France’s Côte d’Azur. Gray’s flexible, thoroughly modern work stands out because her design and architecture skills were not formally acquired—she had trained as a lacquer artist. Yet the chrome, steel tube and glass furniture she exhibited in 1925 was in every respect as modern as that of her well-connected, formally trained colleagues Mies van der Rohe and Marcel Breuer, who produced similar designs that same year.
Gray spent her last decades living a relatively secluded life and only found recognition shortly before passing away, aged 98, in 1976. Today, Gray’s designs are among the most revered at auctions, and her work has been the subject of retrospectives at several prestigious institutions, but the system that first let her fade into obscurity still exists. As this article is being published, designers of any gender might be missing out on opportunities or recognition because they don’t know the right people, come from the wrong country, or went to the wrong school or none at all. It’s time to let go of systems of value that are based on institutional networks and connections alone.
Lesson Two: Design was always social
In today’s post-capitalist society, many designers— especially those just embarking on their career path—are looking to set up practices in service of the greater good. For too long, design has been the bedfellow of greedy and ecologically questionable businesses. But for the past decade or so, the practice of and discourse around social design has been taught and discussed at a number of universities. But this is not a new kind of design. A long line of role models can be found among female practitioners, many of whom were never before discussed in a design context, yet who provide a path forward toward a different design practice.
One of these protagonists is Jane Addams (1860–1935), who in 1889 joined forces with a college friend, Ellen Gates Starr (1859–1940), to establish one of the United States’ first settlement houses in one of the most poverty-stricken areas of Chicago. Modelled on the British example, Hull House catered to the needs of a swiftly growing immigrant population by offering literature, history and art classes as well as crafts workshops and childcare. Addams’ approach might today be thought of as transformation design. Together with her allies, she painstakingly mapped the origins, social strata, profession and needs of the community members around Hull House, to then tailor the programme accordingly and introduce participatory approaches to the workshops conducted at the institution.
Further South in Boston, Louise Brigham (1875–1956) designed simple pieces of furniture built from standard wooden packing crates. A complete suite of her so-called “box furniture” cost no more than four dollars—half an average weekly wage in those days. Her how-to manual, Box Furniture, was published in 1909, long before Gerrit Rietveld in the 1930s and Enzo Mari in the 1970s brought design status to DIY. Brigham’s book went through several editions and was translated into many languages, but she, too, is almost forgotten today.
Even the aforementioned Charlotte Perriand, whose works today are among the most valued by a female designer, initially set out to create low-cost solutions for the less privileged members of society. This is what had drawn her to work with Le Corbusier, who at the time was working on his master plans for redesigning or inventing entire cities.
Some of Perriand’s most lauded designs today were initially designed for modest budgets, like her Antony bookcase, which she worked on with atelier Jean Prouvé to furnish student housing in Paris. Not only the formal work but also the processes and intentions of women like Addams, Brigham or Perriand—as well as other yet-to-berediscovered social reformers or designers, I imagine—should be considered as we seek to redefine the future practices of design.
Lesson Three: Consider collectivities and syntheses
Across design history, the biographies of many female designers illustrate a picture of design as a practice dedicated to issues of social and environmental justice. A recurring theme is a penchant to do things differently, to interrogate, and in some instances turn existing conventions entirely on their head.
The London architectural collective Matrix, for instance, was founded in 1981 to address the relationship between gender and the built environment. Combining both a practice of research and one of building, the group of women worked within a democratic, self-governed and hierarchyfree framework and produced its designs in community consultation processes. Both participatory design processes, as well as collective work structures, are being rediscovered today. Now that Covid has finally alerted companies that Fordist structures of hierarchy may be a thing of the past, we can look no further than Matrix when searching for inspiration to redesign work culture. Meanwhile, outfits like the Turner Prize-winning collective Assemble are already practising the multi-disciplinary, community-oriented
approach that Matrix first pioneered.
There is also a lesson in the way many women have had to shape their career paths. Here at Vitra Design Museum, in the course of research for our exhibition Here We Are! Women in Design 1900–Today, our team spent a year pouring over the biographies of more than 150 women designers across history. It was surprising to find how many of them had to pivot or, in some cases, entirely pause their careers for long periods. Naturally, many of these interruptions were due to changes in family circumstances, such as in the case of Hungarian-born Eva Zeisel (1906-2011), whose 70-year career as a ceramicist also included being one of the first women to receive a solo exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York (in 1946). She stopped working in design for years to work with her husband on sociology projects—only to then continue her prolific career, actively working until she passed away at 104.
In a recent conversation, Patricia Urquiola (b. 1961), one of the most celebrated furniture designers today, reminded me that we should see these changes in a positive light. Herself a highly versatile designer who oscillates between designing objects and spaces and creative direction, Urquiola pointed out that women’s trajectories show us we needn’t be bound to one career path. “I want to reserve the right to do something very different if I wish to,” she told me. She suggests that for centuries, women’s lived experience consisted of juggling many different tasks and wearing many hats—and that flexibility, for her, far from a hindrance, is the key to a successful career. It may just be the reason we see many more women succeed in future design practice, which will require more interdisciplinary, cross-boundary thinking.
Examples of this can be found in the practices of contemporary designers Nipa Doshi (b. 1971) and Gunjan Gupta (b. 1974), both Indian-born women who combine pluralistic cultural references in their work and run highly successful studios—Doshi in London, Gupta in Ahmedabad. Others like Christien Meindertsma (b. 1980) have developed unique approaches to design, forging synergies with other disciplines. Meindertsma thoroughly interrogates materials and processes, fusing investigative research, science and design. German-born, Finland-based designer Julia Lohmann (b. 1977) has created a global network of designers and associated thinkers and artists, all of whom share a passion for investigating and sharing their insights on algae and seaweed. In today’s hyper complex material and manufacturing environment, this kind of design, based on knowledge sharing and community action, appears to be the only way forward.
Patricia Urquiola with her Venus Power collection for CC-Tapis (2021).
Photography by Claudia Zalla.
Bringing the Future Forward PERSPECTIVE
PATRICIAURQUIOLA
Community-mindedness, circular thinking and courageous creativity will bring the future to the now, writes Patricia Urquiola, one of the most influential minds in contemporary design.
a continuous evolution. As a start, we reinterpret iconic pieces by using today’s best technology and with a conscious approach to the environment. This is a journey that we have been carrying out strongly for a long time, not only on reeditions, but also with new collections; of course. From the Soriana model reissued with circular materials to my Sengu Sofa, both featuring recycled fibre padding. I consider art direction an accumulation of experiences that make myself and the company grow and evolve together.
Working with Cassina and many other companies doing great research like Andreu World, Haworth and GAN rugs, just to name a few, it makes clear how much the future of design should go through circularity. In a certain way, we have to learn how to produce in reverse. This means thinking about the end of the product’s life cycle when we are starting the project. In this direction, we must re-establish an authentic beauty in which even the inaccuracies, the defects are enhanced, derived, for example, from a smart reuse of materials. We must make good for the best of the environment and us all.
For me, thinking about the future of design means experimenting already in the present. For me, the real luxury is being able to control time instead of being controlled by it. And for me, time is future.
I always like that beautiful text Time and the Quantum: Erasing the Past and Impacting the Future (2005) by physicist Yakir Aharonov, who rewrote quantum equations so that the future is determined not only by information flowing from the past to the present, but also from the future to the present. This concept really fascinates me and is reflected in my way of working too.
When I start a new project, I always draw on my sphere of memories and sensations; but every nostalgic link with the past lasts only for a moment, a very short fraction of time, which marks the transition from the past to the present and from the future to the present.
I love this short circuit of times, these channels of my bidirectional thought. I like experimenting, making mistakes and then trying again. The process is never linear, but a metamorphosis: in the act of creating and redoing, transforming and evolving, the future already affects my present. I become part of these transitions, these same suspended fractions of time, from the past to the future, and from the future to the present.
In this way only, I believe we can shape the future. Sometimes, when I experiment with a new material or a new technique, a new direction opens up during the research giving life to an unexpected product, far from what we had envisioned at the beginning. This is the future for me: an attitude of openness, of sharing, the surprise coming from experimentation.
It happens frequently in my work as Cassina’s Art Director. Together as a company, we want to make Cassina’s immense heritage evolve through the present and possibly the future. Our aim is not only to celebrate our immense archive and long history, but also to make design icons live
In this regard, the pandemic made all of us, designers and architects, jump forward. We had to look inside and around us more attentively, we realised we needed to renovate the whole ecological thought. As philosopher Timothy Morton well explains, ecology concerns not only the environment; it is everything surrounding us, our culture, our sensibility. I believe this is a strong thought that is here to stay.
We are finally thinking beyond the individual and going towards a sense of community. Melbourne has witnessed this with their Design Week just gone. By no coincidence, it reminds me of the beautiful site-specific installation I designed for the National Gallery of Victoria, showcased during the most recent Triennial. It was called Recycled Woollen Island and consisted of a large-scale, floor-based installation of 16 super-sized “socks” made in recycled felt and PET.
I approached the installation as a designer more than as an artist and so all pieces are thought to serve the community of visitors. They could move the socks, play with them and enjoy the Great Hall stained glass ceiling by artist Leonard French. This was a project developed during lockdown and it saw my studio collaborate with GAN rugs in Spain and with manufacturers in India. So, for this global-scale project, difficulties were even more major than before—but we made it happen.
This exemplifies how solid partnerships can become even stronger through challenge. I have been learning how to be more courageous and more patient. I have been joining this ongoing laboratory of research and investigation. My work has been changing accordingly and of course it will be permeated by the uncertainty of the future, this “shade” that we believe the future will be holding. I can say that the best projects are indeed born from this shadowy area. Decisions that long needed to be made have been accelerated. I believe we will keep on acting in this way, making the future become the present.
Patricia Urquiola’s “Recycled Woollen Island” installation at the National Gallery of Victoria, 2020. Photograph: Coco and Maximilian.
L–R: Sengu table and Dudet small armchair designed by Patricia Urquiola for Cassina (2021). Photography by Valentina Sommariva. The small armchair pictured with the Sengu table references 1970s design and is engineered to be completely disassembled for ease of disposal and recycling of the organic and premium materials.
Patricia Urquiola. Photography by Valentina Sommariva, 2019. Supplied: Financial Times. Pictured with the Nuvola Rossa bookcase, designed by Vico Magistretti for Cassina (1977), and; Visioni rug, designed by Patricia Urquiola for CC-Tapis (2016).
Hello Melbourne, This is Mobilia
PROJECT MOBILIA MELBOURNE
Cassina. Moroso. Poltrona Frau. Kettal. These are just a few of the names that make up Mobilia’s impressive portfolio of European brands, and that Melburnians will find inside the company’s new showroom at 510 Church Street, Richmond. Designed by Melbourne’s own Golden, the lofty, light-filled space is given definition by materials such as brushed aluminium and perforated metal, complementing beautifully rendered walls. Golden studio director Daniel Stellini says the studio’s intention was to create an “honest and contemporary” space that allows breathing room for the character of the different brands, with distinct spaces allowing customers to be immersed in the innovative worlds of these influential design houses.
The building itself—a Green Star accredited smart building—is a new addition to Church Street, designed by Cox Architecture and developed by Alfasi Property, best known for Singapore’s Marina Bay Sands. Stellini says the building’s “high ceilings and grand volumes create gallerylike spaces”, which they’ve used to carve out room for each of Mobilia’s major brands.
For Moroso, an aluminium particle spray reflects an exposed ceiling, while curvaceous, rendered walls cocoon the Cassina experience, complete with illuminated largescale graphics, raised platforms for product displays and an oculi in the ceiling above. Poltrona Frau is nestled around a split-level mezzanine with lowered ceilings creating intimacy with their elegant products. Kettal’s space bathes in natural light, enclosed by fine sand-rendered walls.
As with the building’s sustainable credentials, the interior is designed with the future in mind. “The flexibility of the showroom allows for the exciting years to come,” Stellini says. “It is a platform through which Mobilia can share their commitment to a culture of design in Melbourne.”
Mobilia’s Melbourne showroom is located at 510 Church Street, Richmond.
Mobilia’s Richmond showroom. Cassina dining setting featuring the Capitol Complex table and chairs (hommage à Pierre Jeanneret), Bramante storage unit designed by Kazuhide Takahama (197475), Ficupala table lamp (2019/2020) and Maglia rug (2016/2020). Photography: Jack Lovel.
Mobilia’s Richmond showroom. Cassina living room setting featuring the Kangaroo chair (hommage à Pierre Jeanneret), Sengu sofa, coffee table and low table designed by Patricia Urquiola (2020/2021), Colourdisc vases designed by Bethan Laura Wood (2020) and Paglietta rug designed by GT Design (2016/2020). Photography: Jack Lovel.
Mobilia’s Richmond showroom. Moroso living room setting featuring the Fjord ottoman (2002), Gogan armchair, sofa and coffee table (2019/2020), all designed by Patricia Urquiola, Frame-shift shelving unit designed by Gabriele and Oscar Buratti (2021), Pipe side table designed by Sebastian Herkner (2015) and Matrix rug by Golran (2021). Photography: Jack Lovel.
Soriana: A Conscious Evolution
PRODUCT NINA MILHAUD
More than 50 years after its inception by postmodern Italian designers Afra and Tobia Scarpa, Cassina’s iconic Soriana sofa is revisited using innovative, future-focused materials that honour and enhance its pioneering original design.
When Afra and Tobia Scarpa designed Soriana for Cesare Cassina in 1969, they mightn’t have known it would become a lasting icon. It was awarded a Compasso d’Oro the following year, and more than half a century later, remains one of the brand’s most coveted pieces for interior design projects around the world.
“The idea came instinctively, and the piece was produced relatively quickly,” says Cassina CEO Luca Fuso. “Scarpa showed a prototype of the armchair to his father’s friend who exclaimed that it was as soft as a ‘soriana’—referring to a tabby cat in local dialect—probably thanks to the abundance of soft fabric used to create its welcoming forms.”
The seat lives up to its name: what first strikes about Soriana is its curvaceous silhouette generously wrapped in upholstery—an enticing, almost seductive invitation to sit and sink into its body. But it is the simple genius of the Soriana that saw it so well-received in the ‘70s, and which makes it so timeless. Taking its shape from the grip of a metal brace, the sofa’s gently textured upholstery is pulled into buttoned creases that accentuate its voluptuous aesthetic.
“Soriana represents an informal way of living that was typical of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s,” Fuso says. “It was probably one of the first sofas without armrests—an outstanding idea that the market soon picked up on.”
Founded in 1927, Cassina has pioneered modern furniture design for almost a century with its avant-garde perspective and material innovation, collaborating with architects and designers such as Le Corbusier, Marco Zanuso and Ico Parisi. Today, masterworks such as the LC3 Fauteuil Grand Confort, grand modèle by Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret and Charlotte Perriand (part of the Cassina I Maestri Collection), and the Maralunga sofa by Vico Magistretti, remain some of the brand’s most iconic pieces— enduring successes on which the brand has capitalised by revisiting them using modern materials and production techniques.
Fuso says this pioneering approach is in the brand’s DNA, as epitomised by the creation of Cassina LAB, an initiative born about three years ago from a collaboration with POLI. design at the Milan Polytechnic. “Cassina has always been a pioneer in its field, a first mover,” he says. “We believe that it’s important to innovate, to anticipate our consumers’ needs, and understand how design, and we ourselves, can evolve.”
“With Cassina LAB, we carry this out through identifying circular materials and renewable energy sources to make our products and by creating designs aimed at extending a product’s life cycle.”
Responding to by Soriana’s decades-long popularity, Cassina worked in collaboration with Tobia Scarpa to create a modern version—a reinterpretation staying true to the piece’s original design but brought up-to-date with new innovative and environmentally conscious materials. “It was important to us to not just bring back Soriana from our archives, but to also rethink its materials to favour environmental sustainability while maintaining the utmost respect for authenticity,” Fuso says. “The main challenge in redeveloping any of our products, including Soriana, with a more conscious approach, is to identify the most suitable materials that do not sacrifice comfort or performance.”
To replace Soriana’s original polyurethane structure, Cassina LAB developed a series of bags filled with microspheres made from BioFoam®, the first patented foam made from biopolymers. Hardwearing, biodegradable and compostable, this new material makes the seat recyclable
Soriana sofa, designed by Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Cassina (1969). Cassina Historical Archive. Photography by Falchi Salvador.
“Soriana represents an informal way of living that was typical of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s,” Fuso says. “It was probably one of the first sofas without armrests— an outstanding idea that the market soon picked up on.”
at the end of its life, while also—crucially—enhancing its comfort. Similarly, a recycled blown fibre padding produced from recovered PET bottles from Plastic Bank® complements both the seat and the lining’s padding, adding to Soriana’s snugness while supporting a circular economy.
“Our products have always been produced to last a lifetime with the highest quality materials and workmanship excellence. But if we can reduce environmental impact by using better processes and circular materials that don’t sacrifice aesthetics or comfort, then we should—it’s our duty.”
The updated Soriana comes in a selection of chromatic combinations and a black, blue, burgundy, green or white painted metal frame, as well as a chrome brace version; a nod to the original version for purists. The Soriana range includes an armchair, a chaise-longue, a two or three-seater sofa and a pouf.
Above and Below: Soriana sofa, designed by Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Cassina (1969). Photography by Valentina Sommariva.
Soriana sofa, designed by Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Cassina (1969).
Tobia Scarpa with the Soriana armchair. Photography by Alan Chies.
Bethan Laura Wood with her Super Rock Moon rug for CC-Tapis. Photography by Giulia Soldavini.
Bethan Laura Wood: Between Hand and Industry CONVERSATION
There are people who work in high gear, and then there is Bethan Laura Wood. Sitting in her London home, she is surrounded by objects of both her own creation and those collected from different places and times. Small artworks, textiles and mirrors populate her walls; lamps and sculptures sit atop shelves. All speak of a well-travelled and observant collector who finds meaning in beauty and vice versa.
This is the world of Bethan—one defined by a love of pattern, a talent for teasing many threads out of single ideas, and, importantly, great respect for the unique capabilities of both artisan and industrial modes of production. “I’ve always been fascinated by this mix of the hand and industry,” she says. That fascination dazzles across her diverse portfolio, which spans furniture and lighting, pattern and textile, sculpture and installation, accessories, small wares and even set design.
Wood started her multidisciplinary studio in 2009, after obtaining an MA in Design Products at London’s Royal College of Art (RCA). Since 2011, she has worked closely with Nina Yashar’s Nilufar Gallery in Milan, showcasing her self-directed limited edition and one-off works. She has also worked on a number of major brand collaborations with the likes of Moroso, Cassina and CC-Tapis, as well as others outside of the design world with brands such as Hermès and champagne house Perrier-Jouët. These collaborations, she says, allow her to explore other worlds, and to discover the ways her craft-based approach can be nuanced by specialist technology.
With a deep appreciation for pattern and colour, Wood is recognisable as much for her individualistic appearance as for her bold design practice. Costuming and makeup are big parts of her public persona: she is often seen and pictured with a coloured dot on each cheek, draped in hyperpatterned fabrics and adorned with entirely wondrous shoes, scarves and head pieces. But this is also part of her practice; Wood lives in her ideas. “Quite often, I’ll pick up certain colour tones and start wearing them,” she says. “That’s my way of first digesting colour, and then you’ll see me place those within my work. I grow a bit more of an understanding, because I’ve physically put myself into it.”
While she’s always been rigorous in her approach to design, Wood says the pandemic has helped her be more meditative. Lockdown periods have reinforced the importance of some of the key questions with which her practice already grapples, such as: where are our systems taking us? And, is that the best place to carry on going? The answers might lie somewhere among her works, somewhere in her world—somewhere between the hand and industry.
What’re you working on at the moment?
I’ve been working on some new pieces for Nilufar. I had a big solo show with Nina for the 2021 Supersalone, and I was really pleased with the work we made for that. I made 10 new pieces, and quite a lot of those were new bodies of work, new languages; Meisen, Ornate, Bon Bon. I’ve been working on some further explorations of these families. Hopefully, you’ll see that in this year’s Salone, in June. I also have some beautiful carpets that will come out for Salone with CC-Tapis. These are very much connected to meditative drawing I did during lockdown. It was really lovely to see CCTapis reinterpret those hand drawings within the language of the knot. I like the sensitive way that they’ve managed to evoke the ink line; it’s a very different type of carpet to the more colourful Super Fake collection we did, which are very bold and strong. These ones are much quieter.
You’ve got such a multidisciplinary practice. How do you summarise it?
I trained in product and furniture design, so everything I do will eventually stem back to that core body—but I’ve
always enjoyed having a multidisciplinary approach and applying different media or materials or working with different creatives. That can create a wide variety of things, from lighting and lamps and more traditional furniture, through to pattern-based works. For example, the Mono Mania Mexico collection I did for Moroso in 2018 was based on flat pattern work, but engaged with what happens when that’s interpreted by others. It’s always fascinating when you get to work with technicians that specialise in understanding certain details, producing nuances between things made in a one-off or limited quantity, and things made with machines that rely on a larger system of formatting.
I also do a lot of collaborations with brands that are outside of my main industry. For example, also in 2018 I designed handles and clasps for Valextra for a collection of bags, called Toothpaste. More recently, I’ve been working with champagne house Perrier-Jouët. They’re very connected to their heritage, with roots in the Art Nouveau movement and founders who are passionate botanists. Originally, I was commissioned for a large sculptural work that had to be able to travel. I created a wisteria tree, called HyperNature. I developed techniques for building with US aluminium specialists Neal Feay, and dyed every individual wisteria bloom on the tree by hand in my studio. This extended to designing the VIP lounge at Design Miami and then curating a year of events based on the four seasons as part of their Artisans of the Wild program.
It was interesting to use that brief as a way to build a body of work with a particular language. I’ve subsequently designed domestic pieces drawn from that language for Nilufar, like chandeliers and wall sconces, using the same techniques but within proportions that suit the home. I really love making bodies of work that can expand in all different directions, depending on the needs of the client or the connections I make through collaborations. That’s kind of what I do.
Tell me more about the Mono Mania Mexico collection, which occupied the whole Moroso showroom for the 2018 Salone. How did those designs evolve? How did the collaboration with Moroso, and particularly with Patrizia Moroso, shape the outcome?
It was an honour to be invited by Moroso to make an installation for them. It’s a really amazing tick of approval from Patrizia that says you have an interesting world or an interesting voice that can make some something in conversation with them. If you look at a lot of the textilebased works that Patrizia has been involved with at Moroso, they quite often take things that are from a craft world and rework them in a respectful way, transforming it into something different. It’s never pretending to be the original craft; there’s an interpretation that happens that nuances it with industrial techniques.
Patrizia saw my Guadalupe daybed, which I originally made for a one-off project for Kvadrat inspired by The New Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. She wanted to work on developing a jacquard fabric based on my Appliqué together. She also saw all the preparatory sketches and all the different obsessional versions I’d done, based on the Basilica’s windows, and she suggested seeing how it developed and changed using industrial techniques. It was so interesting to be able to take that one obsession, and make it fill a whole space and show how one pattern can be reworked and given many different outlets. The show of patronage from Patrizia was huge, and I was so happy with the end result. I have a lot of the pieces in my house.
Where does your interest in the combining of artisan and industrial approaches in contemporary design originate?
The main thing that shaped my practice was my time at the RCA. But even before that, studying at Brighton University really offered a bridge between craft and design. I liked being able to move between the different workshops and the course allowed me space not to have to specialise. I’ve always been fascinated between this mix of the hand and industry. Back then, for example, I was really obsessed with slip casting and ceramics rather than hand building because I was fascinated by this mix between the moulding, which allows you to have repeatability, and then the nature of ceramics, which are incredibly variable.
When I studied at the RCA, I was in a platform led by Martino Gamper and Jurgen Bey and their manifesto was about zooming into your location and making work directly with systems that already exist. So again, this mix between the physical hand, and the abstraction of a city, which is essentially a late-industrialised space. I’ve always been interested in how you re-look at things outside of the context of being mass-produced; asking whether they should still exist if they weren’t. That’s a common thread in my work.
Top: Colourdisc vases, designed by Bethan Laura Wood for Cassina (2020), with Venini. Middle: Meisen cabinet, designed by Bethan Laura Wood for Nilufar Gallery (2021). Photography by Emanuele Tortora.
Bottom: Super Standard Hot, designed by Bethan Laura Wood for CCTapis (2019). Photography by Beppe Brancato and styling by Greta Cevenini.
Your Colourdisc work for Cassina exemplifies that interest. The pieces are so joyful and elegant and so beautifully crafted; they don’t look like something that could have been mass-produced and yet are so refined. What did that process of merging the worlds of mass and handmade entail, or offer?
Cassina was interested in working with me to make table objects or smaller objects that could have conversations with larger industrial pieces, their classic pieces. The Cassina archive, they’ve got some crackers in there, so I was a very happy bunny. They were interested in doing this within a collaborative context, namely with Venini, masters of handmade Murano glass. For me it was navigating both worlds, nodding to each universe in my design and combining them.
At some point we hit pandemic time—a curveball for how I would normally work, which would be to get quite physical within the production space. I did manage to visit Venini and I’ve visited their factory before, but we were more limited over some of the experimentation. Looking at the Cassina archives, I noticed this detail of double dots within the construction of some pieces, like their Olimpino table by Ico Parisi, which struck me as a distinct Cassina identifier. I designed the vessel in reference to this and then worked on balancing the discs to orbit around it, making this theoretical balancing act between Cassina’s two identities and details from their world, and a literal balancing act between the vessel and the discs. It allowed me to really push the composition.
What was it like working so closely with Patricia Urquiola?
Patricia is obviously an amazing designer. Her background is architectural and design, so she has worked more in industrial than I have, but her practice is also wildly mixed discipline. She’s a wonderful woman to spend time with; she has such strong passion. It was a really amazing treat to be able to discuss ideas with her and get more of an understanding of how she and a company like Cassina works. I’ve predominately worked within the design industry in a limited edition and one-off manner with Nilufar, which I really cherish. But I’m also always hungry to understand different ways of working. For me, it’s a balance between understanding something well enough to be able to then abstract it, but not so well that you feel constrained, that you can only do it in one way.
All this talk of “balance”; I’m interested in how you navigate the incorporation of the many different cultural influences present in your work, coming from your own cultural background?
As I’ve grown older, and worked longer, of course I’ve become more aware of certain things. I’m aware there are countless examples, in the past and more recently, where this gelling of worlds is not a gel, it’s a taking; such as big brands copying, say, the embroidery design of women from the south of Mexico, but producing in China with no connection
to them. I hope, and I strive to find a balance between me being able to do the work that I find very rewarding and being inclusive and respectful.
A lot of the time, the works that draw on particular spaces or cultures come from invitations to make work in that place. When I was at the RCA, a group of us attended a residency in Venice. Our manifesto was to live there and visit as many artisans and craftspeople as we could to make work with them, and in response to them. I worked with a beautiful lace artist called Lucia, who was passionate about keeping the craft of lace alive. We did two projects together; one involved lace teeth that related to the history of the carnival in Venice. I was fascinated by one of the traditional women’s masks, which is basically a black velvet cover you hold with your teeth, which was meant on the one hand to be liberating but also, is obviously problematic. I made all these drawings of teeth, and Lucia embroidered a pair of teeth that we made into a veiled hat piece with another milliner friend of mine. We also did a series of lace confetti.
I had not been to Venice before and I was massively in love with the patterns of the place. Confetti was everywhere; every morning I’d get up and there’d be swathes of colour on the ground. I designed some of the lace confetti to incorporate traditional lace shapes. It spoke of this issue Lucia saw where tourism, a good thing on one hand, had started to devalue this intricate craft as often cheap copies were being sold as “real”. That was creating a context of throw away for something that is so precious, a slow skill. When you industrialise lace and bobbin, there is a point where the machines can’t do what the delicacy of the hands can.
I think Lucia really enjoyed this conversation in the confetti we made, because it spoke to the beauty of the elements of Venice, but it could also be read as a critical comment about how contemporary setups contribute to a throw away perception of specialist skills like hers. I hope that my work is a celebration of the positive things we have from mass fluctuation between different parts of the world, unlike the cheap lace. But I’m also aware of ensuring I stay on the right side of this rather than the exploitative side.
Where else do you find inspiration? I imagine you’re someone who spends a lot of time imagining and dreaming.
I spend a lot of time looking. I think looking is one of the best pleasures in life. I love Paul Smith, who I’ve recently met a couple of times because he came to my Moroso show, which was lovely. He speaks beautifully about the skill in looking and the importance of observation. I think you can see within his amazing fashion empire, he’s always taken details and colours from here and there and everywhere, creating a universe that’s intrinsically his. I’ve always been really inspired by creatives, regardless of field, that build these worlds that are distinct, but also connected to working within their setup.
Jaime Hayon, for example—I’ve admired the way he works for a long time. When I graduated from my BA, I brought him a teacup I’d made to a show of his in London. He was so kind to me, considering I was this small clown person that just wandered into his show offering him a teacup.
“I’m fascinated by it; this need for early humans to make spaces, to paint walls, to communicate with each other through objects, to find beauty in inanimate things, and create universes around them or develop crazily complicated things to be able to polish, to perfect, to transform elements. It’s beautiful and disgusting, and I do find those contradictory things to be often the most interesting.”
I’ve really enjoyed the way he creates his own universe, but you can see the detailing that moves and changes within it. Everything is “land of Jaime”, but he understands the nuance of how to apply his world to both an industrialised process and a hand process. Ettore Sottsass, who I’m also a big fan of, was very successful in the same way. He had such a strong design identity but one that he refined and fluctuated depending on the partners he was dancing with. That’s something I’ve always tried to emulate.
You are an avid collector. What is it about the human tendency to collect that interests you? What are you drawn to in your own collecting?
There’s not only two different types of people in the world, but there is generally people who do and people who don’t collect. I think there’s a base element within human nature, and also in other animals, to collect. Again, it’s something you can see in a purely celebratory manner, or you can look at it within a critical context of consumerism, of valuing things of no worth. But I’m fascinated by it; this need for early humans to make spaces, to paint walls, to communicate with each other through objects, to find beauty in inanimate things, and create universes around them or develop crazily complicated things to be able to polish, to perfect, to transform elements. It’s beautiful and disgusting, and I do find those contradictory things to be often the most interesting.
I’m somebody that finds comfort in having objects around them and I love understanding an environment through objects. Objects are such an interesting conduit into understanding people and what’s happened in places, the movements that have come and gone. Being able to understand or educate and learn through objects is super rewarding and it penetrates my mind better than if I’m just looking at a textbook. That’s my excuse for why I need to go to as many flea markets as possible.
Your mind seems to work like a web—one investigation or idea gives way to another, and they layer upon each other, growing into larger wholes, and maybe spawning new beginnings. Do you find yourself holding a lot of disparate ideas in mind at once?
There are usually certain avenues that I’m more interested in exploring for a period of time than others. I have bodies of work that I’ve carried on doing since the beginning, or have carried on for a long time, but I intermittently move away from and come back to them. I have learnt how to digest different elements and then decide, of all the things that are interesting me, which is the correct one to play with in a given moment with a given partner. I learned to be critical with myself, knowing that if I put something down now, it doesn’t mean I can’t play with it in the future. You can’t put everything into every design; there needs to be a rhythm, there needs to be some continuity that helps you navigate the reasons why something is one way and not another way, and in turn allows people to find a connection into your work.
Pattern from Mono Mania Mexico collection, designed by Bethan Laura Wood for Moroso (2018).
David Flack: Creating Community
EMMA PEGRUM
CONVERSATION
“People say you can tell a Flack project, but I do think they all differ. There’s a thread there, and there’s a strength, but they all reflect different personalities, different architectural spaces, different briefs, so they’re all attuned to site-specific requirements and people.”
David Flack has always been surrounded by things getting built. The child of a construction business family, he grew up seeing that buildings, and the spaces inside them, don’t just exist, but are born of parallel stimuli, a variety of materials and human ingenuity. As he got older and came to look at the world from a design perspective, he formed an understanding of structures and interiors as both straightforward places of shelter and nuanced social environments.
This is manifest in his distinctive design practice, wielded through Flack Studio, which he started in Melbourne in 2014 and runs with his partner in life and business, Mark Robinson. The pair bring a lot of themselves to the studio, which Flack says has aided their success. They stand out in the marketplace, he believes, not just for their design work but for the values and personality they espouse. “Both of us have these vulnerabilities and a rawness that we don’t want to hide, and we don’t feel the need to hide,” he says. That approach has seen a swift rise to recognition, with the studio enjoying a number of high-profile residential and commercial interiors projects including, recently, Sydney’s brand new Ace Hotel and the lofty Melbourne home of singer-songwriter Troye Sivan—the latter earning the studio its debut entry to Architectural Digest’s AD100 2022 for interior design.
But for Flack and Robinson, the big joy in their success is freedom to use it responsibly. Their respective stories—Flack’s of growing up as a queer kid in Bendigo, and Robinson’s of growing up in poverty, largely homeless—have certainly shaped how they use their business platform to engage beyond the often exclusive rooms they create. The studio runs popular “open days”, inviting the community to visit, relax and enjoy their extensive book collection. “It’s so nice, people come here who don’t even know each other, and then they’re sitting there talking about a book,” Flack says. “It becomes this lovely collective.” That engagement has spawned more direct impact initiatives: when, in 2021, they put the call out for book donations for Cubbies—a local community hub and adventure playground for families living in social housing— they received thousands, in time for Christmas.
These localised efforts have generated a larger interest in actively re-shaping who does and doesn’t have access to the design world on a larger scale—embodied in their plans for the new Rhonda Alexander Mentorship program for young people who face barriers to opportunity. The program has been rescheduled multiple times due to COVID, but
represents Flack Studio’s future-thinking, which, Flack says, we can only expect to see more of.
You ditched plans to move to London to start your studio. Were you experiencing a strong urge to do your own thing at that point?
Not at all. To be honest, it kind of happened accidentally. At the time I’d only had about four years’ experience, which is really not a lot. I had no aspiration of setting up a studio; my intention was to move to Europe to work for an international studio. But I started receiving calls before I was set to move and before I knew it, I had cancelled my plans and had a studio. I was working on little things for friends, and I kind of fell more in love with design, as my confidence grew in operating as my own beast. When we did make the decision to set up, I knew it would be a studio that represented me and my values and became something different.
Your practice is highly research-based; both aesthetic and material research, but also research into the person you’re working with. How do you go about gathering this information and distilling it into the design process?
A Flack client is always pretty well researched themselves, with both residential and commercial, both of which we tend to approach in the same way. Clients often only want to work with us, and if they’re shopping, we’re probably not the best fit, as our approach is client-based and we won’t compete against another studio. When we meet, it’s as much us interviewing them as it is them interviewing us. When you land into that relationship, you want it to be right.
Especially with residential, I always have a bit of a sixth sense with the space and the person. Quite often clients feel like they need to provide all the answers, which we’re never interested in; we want problems. It’s up to us to prepare the brief and solutions. If you’re coming to us, of course we’re going to deliver you something in which design and function are paramount. But I want to get to the cream: your personality. We are not interested in Pinterest boards; if you’re engaging us, why wouldn’t you be ready for our IP, our brain, to start interpreting your home?
But conversely, when it comes to research on the space, the house will tell you what to do. The era of architecture will be in relationship with what was happening parallel to that
time. We always find little crossovers through research and an idea is born from there. Still, the reason I love residential, and good commercial, is because you develop such beautiful relationships with the clients. That journey is so intimate, and there’s nothing better than when you key-turn a house at the end. There’s a lot of trust required in that process.
You need the client to trust your vision.
Totally. You think of a goods train that’s swaying side to side, and it’s our job to make sure none of the boxes fall off. But I can see what a house is going to look and feel like from day one. I can manifest it. We don’t do any visualisations, I can just see it, and it builds up along the way. We ask our clients to trust our relationship.
Not everyone gets the freedom to work with clients who’ve chosen you on the basis of a style that’s strictly true for you. How important is that to you?
Maintaining a strong vision is really important. Early on, I used to say no all the time and I remember people, like my mum and dad, wondering why. But if I’m not passionate about a project, you’re not going to get the best out of me as a designer, and that spawns into the studio too. People say you can tell a Flack project, but I do think they all differ. There’s a thread there, and there’s a strength, but they all reflect different personalities, different architectural spaces, different briefs, so they’re all attuned to site-specific requirements and people. But the thread is that heightened sense of individualism and confidence. We also choose projects based on our potential relationship with the client, not the obvious opportunities with the project.
There’s also often a sense of play expressed in your work, sometimes overt and sometimes subtle. The Caravan work comes to mind; the Memphis Milano lamp with the lamington display. So classic.
How cute was that? That was a turning point in the studio too. It was 2016, we were only two years old, so to get such an amazing international brief was really cool. We definitely turned it up a notch. I think humans are complex; a space should be equally complex. It’s beautiful to create nuances throughout a home or space. I think they should
David Flack. Supplied: Flack Studio.
have humour and a little bit of fucked up-ness too. You can’t only have pretty.
You did experience a lot of success with Flack quite quickly, and recently you’ve worked on some pretty high-profile stuff. I’m sure there’s been an evolution in style there, but I’m interested in how your understanding of design, or good design, has evolved too.
Design is actually really bloody hard. I was very lucky to meet Mark, my partner and business partner, and when we first started dating, he taught me the ability to not get caught up “doing”, and to focus on designing. Being able to still have the ability just to focus on design and ignoring the noise is our studio’s biggest strength. We don’t believe in pushing paper around the desk. We go hard in documentation; we research really heavily, and we don’t do options. We do one really killer option, all the time. We try not to get bogged down in things, but we’re continually re-evaluating. We’re only just getting into our stride, and now it’s really about solidifying who we are. The opportunities are there, but we want to maintain being small—doing less, doing better.
You said you set out to make a studio that reflected your values, and that’s evident in the work you do with community. One example is the Rhonda Alexander Mentorship program, which is named for a high school teacher who was quite important for you, correct?
Yeah, my art teacher. She passed away in 2020. I was a queer kid in Bendigo, and I always felt like an outcast. I didn’t have that many friends. I knew there was going to be a new life for me when I moved to the city, but she gave me that one form of escapism that allowed me to flourish. She was a huge part of my life. And Mark has a really interesting life and is such a courageous character. Both of us have these vulnerabilities and a rawness that we don’t want to hide, and we don’t feel the need to hide. That becomes reflected in our practice, and how we engage people around us. The mentorship program is really about finding a little David and Mark who don’t have the opportunity, or don’t think they can belong in design, or whatever it may be; we’re going to get friends from all walks of life to be mentors. We were meant to have it in October, then we postponed it to March and then again because of Omicron, but we’ll be able to lock something in now. And we
have 18 mentees, not 10 as originally planned—we were so moved by the applications, we couldn’t narrow it down.
You’ve also supported Cubbies, most recently through book drives. Tell me about that.
That relationship came about around the time Trump got elected and Brexit was happening and there was so much austerity in the world. It was all so depressing. But we saw things happening just on our doorstep that we could focus on contributing positively to, and that spawned the Cubbies relationship. It has a nice connection to shelter and belonging, which we feel a deep connection to.
What is so important to you about this kind of work? Do you think it’s common in the design industry, or could people do more?
I don’t think it’s common at all, though I am seeing changes across the design community. I think slowly we are recognising that we have to do more, which is a great thing. For us, in a way, it’s more satisfying than doing the design work, because when you realise you’ve got a platform that has a voice, the community you build around that is so engaging. When we do our open days, we get such good responses, and it just feels like the right thing to do. It’s so nice to share knowledge and be inclusive, and it’s really not that difficult to do.
What would you encourage your peers to do more of to drive positive change, whether in the design industry itself, or on other issues?
I think it’s just about being engaged and active. We can all say we’re doing something, but you’ve actually got to make the time to do it. It might be really small steps, but it doesn’t take much to engage. For us it’s about being ourselves and creating great work, whatever that work is. I don’t really think about myself as an interior designer anymore, we’re just creators. It’s nice just to ditch all the preconceptions. We can kind of do anything, anywhere. It’s liberating.
Caravan by Flack Studio, Seoul, South Korea, 2016. Featuring the Oceanic lamp designed by Michele De Lucchi for Memphis Milano (1981) Supplied: Flack Studio. Photography by Sharyn Cairns.
A Brief History of Iconic Armchairs
PRODUCT ARMCHAIR SURVEY
1918
Red and Blue
Rietveld’s classic piece takes the form of a Rationalist geometric sculpture. It is among the foremost examples of Neoplasticism, an early-1900s art theory in which the basic elements of colour, line and form were used only in their most fundamental state: primary colours, non-colours, squares, rectangles, and straight horizontal or vertical lines. In Red and Blue Chair, Rietveld explores spatial organisation through using flat surfaces and intersecting monochrome spaces. In response to criticism that the chair wasn’t comfortable, Rietveld has famously said: “It’s not really a chair: it’s a design manifesto.”
An examination of armchairs over the past century offers a lesson in the enduring nature of good design.
Armchairs hold a special place in design history. They have a commanding presence in a variety of spaces, whether it be a living room, bedroom nook or an expansive foyer. For a designer, they provide an opportunity for creative expression that goes beyond basic function, and many armchairs throughout history are viewed as important design objects that reflect, and sometimes even changed the course of, their time. From those light and sculptural pieces to others plush and luxurious, each armchair offers unique insight into the motivations and inspiration of its designer, and when viewed together tell a story of shifting and evolving ideas.
Take the Red and Blue chair, designed by Gerrit Thomas Rietveld in 1918 and produced today by Cassina. The chair’s geometric sculptural form has an openness and lightness that mirrors Rietveld’s own progressive architecture of the same era. In this instance, Rietveld was concerned with form and aesthetics before comfort, which was considered revolutionary at the time.
A decade later, in 1928, the LC2 Fauteuil Grand Confort, petit modèle, part of Collection Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret, Charlotte Perriand—produced today by Cassina— did the opposite. The designers decided to remove the inner workings and structure of a more “traditional” armchair design and place it on the outside. Driven by comfort, the design was able to achieve a skilful balance between both form and function. This family of iconic armchairs is considered a design masterpiece, and its appeal has proven timeless.
Meanwhile, other designers have interrogated armchair concepts from previous eras and reinterpreted them for the modern day. Patricia Urquiola’s Fjord armchair, designed in 2002 for Moroso, references Danish visionary Arne Jacobsen’s Egg chair, which was originally designed in 1958. The Fjord takes Jacobsen’s classic piece apart, like a broken shell, and puts it back together in an abstract form that allows the user to sit in a relaxed manner, challenging the more formal sitting positions synonymous with mid-century design.
Each armchair has its own story, reflecting the thoughts and influences of the designer at the time and the society it was created for. However, regardless of when it was designed, an iconic armchair will stand the test of time and be a mainstay in our lives both now and into the future.
1928
LC2
Design trio Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret and Charlotte Perriand is one of the 20th-century’s most celebrated, and the LC2 Fauteuil Grand Confort petit modèle is one of the group’s most recognisable designs, from a family of avantgarde furniture, including its larger sibling the LC3 Fauteuil Grand Confort grand modèle. The armchair was considered revolutionary at the time for the way its interior structure was placed on the visible exterior—a prime and enduringly popular example of form meeting function.
LC2 Fauteuil Grand Confort, petit modèle, Collection Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret, Charlotte Perriand — Cassina I Maestri Collection
1930
Officially called Model 904, but known since 1984 as Vanity Fair, this seat has, over time, become the emblem of Poltrona Frau. It is thought that the armchair was developed on the basis of designs that the brand’s founder, Renzo Frau, left his wife Savina. The deliberately voluminous configuration of the Vanity Fair armchair has made it one of the universal and beloved icons of Italian design.
Vanity Fair by Renzo Frau — Poltrona Frau
Another Rietveld masterpiece, the Utrecht armchair combined experimentation and more self-evident comfort features; an evolution from his Red and Blue chair, which prioritised aesthetic form over comfort. First designed for the Metz & Co department store in Amsterdam, the armchair’s hallmark juxtaposition of right angles—a backrest and seat that meet at the floor and armrests that morph into support pieces—made it another triumph of Neoplasticism.
Utrecht by Gerrit Thomas Rietveld — Cassina I Maestri Collection
Red and Blue Chair by Gerrit Thomas Rietveld — Cassina I Maestri Collection
This piece evolved understandings of the chair itself in its blending of the seat and the backrest; a literal basket for the sitter declaring informal, high-comfort sitting a new norm. The piece won awards in 1950 at the Cabinetmakers Guild Exhibition and in 1951 at the Milan Triennale. Kettal offers this classic in two versions—the original hand-braided wicker and an outdoor version made from artificial fibre and teak for durability.
An icon of Italian design in the 1950s and a symbol of stylistic, material and technological innovation, the Lady armchair made history with its modern construction of slender metal legs that contrast with the cushy upholstered chair. Each part of the armchair is assembled separately with different padding densities creating contours for the human form. The design was awarded a gold medal at the 1951 IX Milan Triennale.
The Tre Pezzi epitomises the modern wingback armchair that has become so popular ever since. Its generous, enveloping upholstered shapes blend minimalist concepts with an utmost concern for comfort: the deep seat, the U-shaped lumbar cushion and the half-moon headrest. The curvaceous sides of the chair’s tubular steel structure form a graphic signature intentionally reminiscent of the handrails designed for Milan’s Metro subway terminals.
Crafted using a patented Cassina production technique, Feltri is made entirely of thick felted wool, and combines an enveloping pliable backrest with a rigid lower section. A quilted topper creates an inviting cocoon for the sitter. The seat is attached to the structure with black hemp ties that also serve as an intricate aesthetic detail, outlining the upper borders of the chair. In one of its most famed iterations, Raf Simons upholstered the Feltri with heirloom American quilts for a Calvin Klein collaboration at Design Miami/Basel in 2018.
Feltri by Gaetano Pesce — Cassina
Inspired by Achille and Piergiacomo Castiglioni’s idea of removing traditional padding to leave only the “strictly necessary” curves for optimum support, the Sanluca armchair is a highly ergonomic chair and remains cuttingedge today. Pictured is a past limited edition version of the Sanluca armchair upholstered in fabric inspired by the work of Swiss graphic designer and artist Max Huber, who had a decades-long friendship with the Castiglionis.
Sanluca by Fratelli Achille e Pier Giacomo Castiglioni — Poltrona Frau
The Big Easy armchair was first designed in the late 1980s as a sculptural piece made of coarsely welded steel. Its softer, more functional form was developed in collaboration with Moroso art director Patrizia Moroso, to achieve a design suitable for mass production. Its form emulates that of an overstuffed armchair and yet is refined to balanced perfection. Fun fact: The Big Easy was featured in the music video for Michael Jackson’s 1995 hit, Scream.
The Big Easy by Ron Arad — Moroso
Basket Chair by Nanna and Jørgen Ditzel — Kettal
Lady by Marco Zanuso — Cassina I Maestri Collection
Tre Pezzi by Franco Albini and Franca Helg — Cassina I Maestri Collection
The original inspiration behind the Fjord chair is a piece of seashell that has been broken and smoothed by waves. This armchair’s aesthetic has a strong Scandinavian influence— as the name suggests—and references the designs of Danish visionary Arne Jacobsen. Its broken form and abstract concept merge into a cohesive object; supporting and enveloping smooth lines are highlighted in decorative stitching, in perfect harmony with the chair’s structure.
Fjord by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
For Bohemian, the prolific Patricia Urquiola takes an original approach to button tufting, evolving this classic technique for the contemporary era. The Bohemian family of products, including the armchair, have fluid forms as if they are melting over their frame to create soft, comforting lines where the fabric or leather are fixed to the shell using press studs.
Bohemian by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
The name Rift borrows from the geological term for a crack or fissure, speaking to how this armchair is built around an unexpected and asymmetric positioning of different volumes, an intentional randomness inspired by the unpredictability of nature. Like tectonic plates, the different layers of the Rift tend to collide and overlap, creating visual movement and high levels of comfort for the human form.
Rift by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
2010 Klara
Like many of Urquiola’s designs, the Klara is both decorative and highly functional. Maintaining a classic, almost artisan appearance yet undoubtedly contemporary, Klara revists design’s first forays into industrial design and is reminiscent of the first mass-produced pieces of the early 20th-century. This armchair comes in multiple finishes, including one with a back of woven Vienna straw—a classic technique dating back centuries that is one of the most popular interior trends today.
Klara by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
The Archibald combines substance and form, boasting a comfortable and enveloping design ideal for meditation and relaxation. The breadth and depth of the seat is balanced by its thin feet for an agile and slender overall effect. The leather upholstery, pleasantly wavy thanks to a series of vertical folds, is embellished along the edges and external surfaces by contrast stitching, giving it an extra touch of the refined elegance that is synonymous with Poltrona Frau.
Archibald by Jean-Marie Massaud — Poltrona Frau
2010 Paper Planes
Described as a “functional sculpture”, Paper Planes originated from a Doshi Levien fabric design for Moroso that incorporated Swarovski crystals. Its shape comes from the folding and modelling of graph paper as an exploration of form and structure, to create angles, lines and polygons. Its seeming simplicity is evidence of masterful sartorial skill: the lines of the fabric must be perfectly aligned with the geometry of the chair to create a seamless finish.
Paper Planes by Doshi Levien — Moroso
Urquiola’s Redondo collection has a distinctive two–part shape with a padded shell that embraces its huge seat cushions. Its curves are shown off by the absence of sharp corners and its plush upholstery, while its quilted decoration, formed by an elegant seam pattern, create an elegant threedimensional form. Redondo is inspired by the romance and everyday luxury of 1950s and 60s American cars—their upholstered interiors and soft curves designed to ensure onthe-road comfort for long coast-to-coast drives.
Redondo by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
The Roll combines the best of low-maintenance beach club furniture with smart, contemporary design. Its backrest is comprised of two independent “wrap” cushions, kept together by colourful straps. Those straps are connected to the chair’s aluminium frame by means of two pins, which can easily be removed, allowing the user to stow the cushions away when needed.
Roll by Patricia Urquiola — Kettal
Armada is a sculptural seating collection that was designed for open work and lounge spaces. The blown forms of the armchairs billow out from the seat like wind filled sails, creating a sense of lightness and movement, while providing degrees of privacy and seclusion. The armchair shows interplay between surface and volume through a combination of thin upholstered sides and voluminous soft cushions on the inside.
Armada by Doshi Levien — Moroso
Inspired by the iconic 1970s throne-like Emanuelle chair, the outdoor Cala chair has a majestic spatial presence with transparent and light surfaces. The open weave of this Kettalmanufactured rope provides a latticed window to the natural elements, while enveloping the user with a sense of privacy.
Cala by Doshi Levien — Kettal
With its sturdy, solid-wood structure and ergonomic backrest, the Back-Wing armchair exemplifes Cassina’s mastery of joinery. Its innovative shape derives from the pronounced contrast between the thickness of the wood structure, the padded seat and the wrap-around backrest whose sides fold back into two wings that serve as armrests, for added comfort.
Back-Wing by Patricia Urquiola — Cassina
The most recently designed of this survey, the new Pacific collection features rounded, oversized shapes, evoking the relaxed atmosphere of the West Coast of the United States (from which it takes its name). Pacific is the continuation of a design process begun in 2010 with Urquiola’s iconic Redondo collection, featured earlier. The soft, woolly upholstery was chosen to offer a tactile experience, with buyer’s choice of sophisticated boucle, plush wool or luxurious velvet.
Pacific by Patricia Urquiola — Moroso
Children at play at the Wits Academy in Nepal, 2016. Photography courtesy of cc-tapis.
CC-Tapis: Design Meets Education
PERSPECTIVE
AMY WOODROFFE
From Nepal to Milan and back, CC-Tapis are bridging Tibetan weaving traditions with European aesthetics through a social design model that serves multiple communities.
Design is a form of exchange that has deep impacts on global culture; as one person shares their ideas, skills and goods with another, they’re both changed and hopefully, enriched. A positive design exchange creates value for everyone involved in the process as well as through using the final product. However, there is also value beyond the transactional. Ground-breaking ideas can arise when diverse cultures meet and merge through the creative process. Frank Lloyd Wright’s appreciation for Japanese philosophy brought poetry to modernist architecture; the Memphis movement would have taken on a different tone had its Italian founder, Ettore Sottsass, not been fascinated with Buddhism. These inquisitive designers integrated lessons from foreign cultures into their own visual language thus conceiving something new and inspiring. When such cultural bridges are thoughtfully built, everyone can benefit. We see this exemplified by Italian design company CC-Tapis, whose passionate collaboration with traditional Nepalese weavers not only brings value to the design world, but to the communities they work with.
For the brand’s founders Nelcya Chamszadeh and Fabrizio Cantoni, Nepalese weavers have been integral to CCTapis for 20 years. To create their collection of hand-knotted rugs using ancient methods, CC-Tapis has “consolidated an incredible working and personal relationship with Tibetan and Nepalese people, who have a profound connection with both their heritage and the natural materials they work with,” says Nelcya. Respect for craftmanship is not unusual for an Italian producer, but the combination of the founders’ French and Iranian backgrounds with Italian aesthetics and Tibetan techniques does invigorate the design industry. Theirs is a story of generational cultural exchange that has culminated in a contemporary brand using its platform to connect with a community in Nepal. Nelcya elaborates: “The history of Tibetan rug making is incredibly rich and with every project we discover something new. We innovate through combining traditional craftsmanship with contemporary design. Experimenting with Tibetan artisans and their weaving techniques creates surprising bonds between them and the designers, artists, architects and creative talents we collaborate with.”
To deepen their cooperation with the Tibetan community they have grown so close to, CC-Tapis established a not-for-profit called CC-For Education. The organisation was created by Nelcya and Fabrizio together with their Nepalese collaborators and exists to provide education to the children of CC-Tapis’ weavers from kindergarten to university. “One of the reasons for creating our own NPO, instead of supporting a pre-existing NPO,” explains Nelcya, “was to enrich the lives of the people we work with.” On their educational focus, Nelcya clarifies that “Nepal is a beautiful country with a rich historic and cultural wealth [but] it is important to acknowledge that it is a developing country leading to a limited access to educational opportunities. We believe it is important to break the education gap, so that children have the possibility to make their own choices for their future and create their own path.”
To help the organisation achieve its mission, CC-Tapis covers all CC-For Education’s operating expenses and Nelcya and Fabrizio oversee all donations—derived from design auctions and events organized through CC-Tapis—to ensure financial aid goes directly to their partner schools for annual tuition fees, textbooks and clothing. Since its founding in 2015, CC-For Education has helped 60 children attend Kathmandu institutions Vidya Byayam English High School and Wits Academy, and sponsored its first university student at Nepal Engineering College. Nelcya explains that “as a small organization we are very proud of what we’ve achieved, but we still have a lot to do. Every year we encounter new challenges but our aim is to include new children in the program annually, expanding beyond our atelier.”
Both CC-For Education and CC-Tapis may attribute much of their success to the passionate professional and personal connection their founders have cultivated with their Nepalese collaborators and benefactors. Nelcya and Fabrizio’s path to this point was unexpected—after discovering a Tibetan rug in a Californian shop many years ago, the couple were inspired to explore India and Nepal and while there, become enamoured with the ancient hand-knotting craft which spurred the founding of CC-Tapis Nepal. Back home in Europe, Nelcya and Fabrizio learnt traditional Persian rugmaking at Nelcya’s father’s Strasbourg business and began
forming their design vision. A relocation to Milan allowed Fabrizio to complete a master’s in interior design and here, in Italy’s design capital, the pair met their future business partner, Daniele Lora. With CC-Tapis’ 2011 debut, Nelcya, Fabrizio, Daniele and the Tibetan weavers introduced a new interpretation of textiles to the industry.
Today, as a globally recognised design house, CCTapis plays an important role in increasing the visibility and viability of Tibetan textile handcraft—a goal reached commercially through their collections, and socially through their fundraising. The design team maintains a strong respect for materials and traditional Tibetan weaving by favouring a romantically slow and manual process—the softest Himalayan wool is hand-spun and washed with purified rainwater. No machines are used and it can take months to produce a rug. An insistence on quality and sustainable practices feeds into both CC-Tapis and CC-For Education. “We feel it is fundamental that the two organizations work parallel to each other. As one grows, so does the other,” Nelcya says. “Fortunately CC-Tapis continues to expand and the global awareness for Tibetan and Nepalese craft increases year on year.”
CC-Tapis is committed to future-proofing the industry and empowering more weavers, as Nelcya explains: “We have actively been training female workers to become weavers, people who traditionally would have stayed at home, giving a new demographic skills and the ability to earn, giving them a new status in society.” As CC-For Education grows, CCTapis aspires to expand its support to provide work within management, logistics and sales.
In the model CC-Tapis presents, good design is evident in the organisational system itself and in the feedback loop of ideas and skills shared in the creative process. It seems to exemplify a win-win. Perhaps the most compelling takeaway from such a model is that it perpetuates itself. Despite distance, diverse circumstances and culture, two communities are now linked—understanding each other well enough to try and make a positive difference in one another’s lives, and in turn, benefiting from their shared future.
CC-Tapis and Mobilia will release a new collaboration for the CC-for Education program later in the year.
Left: Embossing detail. Right: Natural materials such as Himalayan wool and pure silk are used for CC-Tapis’ rugs.
Room For Games
JOIN THE DOTS MOBILIA CROSSWORD
ACROSS
Designer _ _ _ Arad, architect, artist and one of Moroso’s key collaborators responsible for designing the Big Easy Chair; as seen in Michael and Janet Jacksons’ music video Scream (3)
Ingredient of the famous Negroni Sbagliato (“Mistaken Negroni”), a cocktail invented at Milan’s Bar Basso, which substitutes gin and uses Prosecco, Campari and _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ instead (8)
Period in history or architecture (3)
Patricia Urquiola designed Kettal’s flagship showroom in this Spanish city (9)
Pioneering designer Charlotte Perriand is an _ _ _ _ of 20th–century design (4)
Michael Anastassiades is famous for designing pure yet commanding _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ structures (8)
Prominent architect who recently collaborated with Kettal, Vincent --- Duysen (3)
Famed Swiss architect who collaborated with Le Corbusier and Charlotte Perriand in the early 1920s, _ _ _ _ _ _ Jeanneret (6)
Oceanic and Tahiti are both Memphis Milano _ _ _ _ designs (4)
Adjustable sofa designed in 1973 by 31-across (9)
Italian husband-and-wife designers and architects responsible for designing the iconic Soriana Sofa, Tobia and Afra _ _ _ _ _ _ (6)
Designer of the famous chairs manufactured by Cassina 29 down, _ _ _ _ _ Bellini (5)
Italian furniture company founded in 1912, Poltrona _ _ _ _ (4)
Lake on which Patricia Urquiola’s iconic Il Sereno hotel is situated (4)
Italian city where Cassina is based (4)
Designer for Cassina, _ _ _ _ Magistretti (1920-2006) (4)
Many CC-Tapis rugs use Himalayan _ _ _ _ (4)
“Time To Make A _ _ _ _” by Patricia Urquiola, published 2013 (4)
DOWN
Furniture designer turned fashion designer who upholstered 100 Feltri chairs in vintage quilts for Calvin Klein’s Miami/Basel debut, _ _ _ Simons (3)
Country in which many of CC-Tapis’ rugs are made (5)
Sydney-born designer who designed Qantas A330 business class suite and had an early collaboration in 1993 with Moroso , _ _ _ _ Newson (4)
Italian modernist designer who embraced the materials of industrial culture and who created ‘Autoprogettazione’, _ _ _ _ Mari (4)
Italian artist and industrial designer who also produced many children’s books and toys, Bruno _ _ _ _ _ _ (6)
Influential artist and designer born in Madrid in 1974, renowned for his joyful and playful work, Jaime _ _ _ _ _ (5)
Late US designer and entrepreneur who also created furniture collections, _ _ _ _ _ _ Abloh (6) Chair by Gio Ponti that is produced by Cassina. Also a “Super” version (7)
CC-Tapis works with _ _ _ _ _ _ _ in 2-down to create hand-made rugs (7)
In 1937, Salvador Dalí famously created a sofa in the shape of Mae West’s _ _ _ _ (4)
Architectural finish made by combining and polishing cement with a mixture of marble, granite or quartz, and also the name of famed ‘80s magazine by Ettore Sottsass, Barbara Radice et al (8)
Acclaimed Indian-born designer, Elle Decor Designer of the Year 2015 and business partner of Jonathan Levien, _ _ _ _ Doshi (4)
The Capitol Complex Chair, a homage to Jeanneret, was named after a building in Chandigarh, a city in
_ (5)
Italian word for cathedral (5)
Spanish lighting brand, maker of the FollowMe lamp (6) Creator of the revolutionary Red and Blue Chair, _ _ _ _ _ _ Thomas Rietveld (6)
Italian architect; father of Tobia 24-across (5)
The Soriana received this accolade in 1970, Compasso D’_ _ _ (3)
Leather chair designed by Bellini for Cassina, likened to a tailor-made dress (3)
Join the Dots by Emma Regolini. Crossword by Liam Runnalls
Things That Go Together
POSTCARDS MICHAEL ANASTASSIADES
01 ROUND STONE
I remember as a teenager, I used to spend hours walking along the beach, searching for the perfectly round pebble. Every holiday, every journey to another place became a project, an obsession to find the ultimate accidental formation. Sometimes, I would get excited when I spotted a pebble half buried in the sand and I would pray that, when I picked it up, there would be nothing distorting its shape. Only now do I look at this big collection of stones and see how beautifully different they all are.
02 YOGA
I am a keen ashtanga yoga practitioner. In a previous life I used to run yoga retreats in Mani, Peloponnese Greece, together with my teacher Kristina Karitinos Ireland. This is a picture of us practicing on a concrete pier by the sea below the hotel.
03 KASTELLORIZO
I discovered Kastellorizo about 10 years ago. I have never missed a summer vacation there since. This is a picture that I managed to find from the National Geographic archives by an Italian photographer who documented life on the island in the 1930s.
04 CYPRUS — LUIGI PALMA DI CESNOLA
Luigi Palma di Cesnola was United States consul at Larnaca in Cyprus between 1865 and 1876. During his stay, he carried out various uncontrolled excavations and shipped some 35,000 pieces to the US. In 1873, he sold his collection to the recently established Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. It gave significant basis to the new museum, of which Cesnola eventually became the first director in 1879. This is a book by Cesnola, titled Cyprus: Its Ancient Cities, Tombs, and Temples (1877, Harvard University)—an amazing gift from a friend a couple of years ago.
01 ROUND STONE
02 YOGA 03 KASTELLORIZO
04 CYPRUS — LUIGI PALMA DI CESNOLA
CYPRIOT GARMENT HOOK
06 FLOWERING MONSTERA DELICIOSA
07 DANIEL SINSEL
05 CYPRIOT GARMENT HOOK
A Cypriot gold garment hook circa 1600 to 1100 B.C. I think it has an interesting relationship to my work. Every few years we produce a Christmas gift that we send to clients and friends. In 2018 we made a replica of this piece in a different scale to be used as a keychain.
06 FLOWERING MONSTERA DELICIOSA
Our studio is in an old workshop building in Camden. It has a huge skylight that provides the perfect setting for plants to grow. We were lucky to experience our Monstera flowering two years after moving in.
07 DANIEL SINSEL
I get inspired by artist’s work and I use it as a reference in my creative process. I have recently started collecting, but I equally love following gallery exhibitions when travelling. Art museums are the highlights of my trips. This is a painting by German artist Daniel Sinsel, whose work I have been
admiring and following for a long time. This is an old piece of his from 2011 which I was lucky to see in a gallery in London.
08 ATHENS NATIONAL GALLERY
Details from works at the National Gallery in Athens
09 SKETCHES
I sketch a lot, so I have all these sketchbooks, and they’re easy. It’s just a practical thing, I can carry it everywhere, I can sketch in the places where I find myself, on a plane or in an airport lounge. I wish I could actually make things while I travel, but it’s almost impossible to do.
10 DAVID WEISS — METAMORPHOSES (DETAIL)
I love the humour in Peter Fischli and Weiss’ work. This is from the exhibition Metamorphoses at Matthew Marks Gallery, which comprised 16 works made by Weiss between 1975 and 1978, before he and Fischli started collaborating.
11 DETAIL FROM THINGS THAT GO TOGETHER
My collection started from a childhood obsession with picking things up, everywhere I went. It seemed that they were the easiest things to steal—from nature. It’s right there! And I was also fascinated with the role of nature as a designer. The fact that it’s an object, and nature made it that way; I was fascinated with that idea.
12 MICHAEL ANASTASSIADES
Michael Anastassiades is a Cypriot-born, London-based designer whose practice encompasses product, spatial interventions and experimental works, often transcending the distinctions between different fields of creativity. With a career spanning more than 20 years, Anastassiades has conceived lights, furniture and objects characterised by a poetic yet rigorous interpretation of technology, materials and functions. Here, he provides an insight into his various points of reference and inspiration: from the natural world to his native Cyprus, personal memories, art and everyday life.
