From imm cologne news //"Experimental Design and Art are the Drivers for the Entire Industry."
Johanna Grawunder Interviewed by Claudia Wanninger.
The Trendboard has been talking about the end of design icons. What does that mean for interior design?
Yes, that’s something we discussed, but I don’t think it’s as absolute as that. In my opinion, there will always be iconic design. Because whether or not an object has cult character depends on the design itself and not on whether it’s marketed using that particular label. Many things are designed without a single thought being given to their symbolism, but they manage to capture consumers’ imagination at a certain moment in time all the same, so they come to represent a certain zeitgeist. What has really changed is people’s need to fill their homes with designer items as if they were toy chests. That attitude has gone slightly out of fashion.
Does that mean we’ve grown tired of all those hip things?
We’ve simply had our fill of all that stuff, of being bombarded by their symbolism. That’s a sign of our times, too. People are slowing down more and looking for a neutral space, a sanctuary. They’re still surrounding themselves with a few very special pieces, but that’s the whole point: just a few.
So the “Rehab” trend identified at the Trendboard workshop, a kind of aesthetic self-therapy, can be seen as a general purge?
Obviously not everybody is adopting this attitude to the same extent, or even consciously. But you can certainly say that reflecting on what you really need is a general trend. The picture of a typical American refrigerator springs to mind as a good comparison. Besides being incredibly big, it’s crammed full right to the back of its 75-cm-deep shelves with ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, leftovers, fruit and masses of little containers, even though you’ve long since forgotten what’s in them or where they came from. I guess that’s part of the American culture: people think they need a full refrigerator because otherwise they might starve to death or whatever. You can’t eat design, obviously, but there is something you could call design consumption – and that used to be driven by the desperate desire to own something, by the satisfaction of getting it out, and also by the fear of missing out on something if you didn’t buy it. But now people are starting to empty out their refrigerators and only using them to store what they need right now. It’s not so much a question of ownership any more.
Could it also be that we need less design because it’s not as special as it used to be, because it’s become part of everyday life?
Yes, definitely. But even a non-design kind of design is still design. Take the Kolumba Museum here in Cologne: even though you sense the hand of the architect, Peter Zumthor, very strongly, it all looks as if he hadn’t done much at all. And yet it’s precisely the wonderful design of a neutral palette of floors, walls and paths which, despite the minimalist aesthetics, are nevertheless incredibly rich in terms of the spatial arrangement, materials, light and so on. Even if people are tired of design, I still think they need designers because, at the end of the day, design can improve their lives – with spatial concepts, materials, colours and a few special pieces of furniture.
Can restricting yourself to the essentials really be a help?
That’s a talking point again right now. Although actually, in times of economic crisis, people haven’t necessarily turned towards minimalism in the past, they’ve looked for comforting, cosy surroundings instead. At the end of the day, people like colours and shiny things and don’t like going without them to live in a minimalist cell instead. Especially not if they’re clinging to a job they don’t even like or struggling not to go under. On top of that, I’ve always felt there’s something a bit ungenerous about really minimalist design. It’s as if people are trying to keep their personality a secret: everything is hidden away in drawers, be it grandma’s cushions or the family photos. Sometimes it makes sense, for instance if you want a calm, simple design for your bedroom, but in other areas you want to be more generous and express your personality. I think hiding everything away is just as outdated as cramming your home full of design objects.
So it’s a case of regarding design less as an objet d’art and more as a friend?
Right, as a friend who accompanies you through life – or even as something you love. Design isn’t going to solve world problems like famine or disease. We don’t really need this furniture to survive. Seen from that perspective and at the level we work on, design is actually a luxury. But the kind of luxury we all need from time to time. Personally, I tend to see male or female traits in my furniture. I work on an old metal desk, for instance, a “tough guy” who looks at me provocatively and waits for me to finally go ahead and open the drawers; but “he” has a lot to put up with as well.
But aren’t your limited editions essentially pure luxuries?
Art Design isn’t just a case of making rich people happy; it’s a form that allows us to experiment with various ways of living. A lot of the things we try out are later translated into commercial products for the mass market. That’s why it doesn’t make any sense to talk about copies when that happens, because that’s actually precisely what our work is all about: communicating ideas. It’s gratifying when ideas that initially manifest themselves in an esoteric or artistic arena assert themselves in other areas and find their way to people, be it via design or fashion. Then you feel that all the research you’ve put into it has been worthwhile.
What role do shows like the Design Miami/Basel, the Milan furniture fair or the imm cologne play in all this?
Design Miami/Basel has categorised a phenomenon that existed anyway in the form of limited editions, installations, one-offs and so on, and has given us a platform. That was very good for Art Design. Basel is definitely the most important marketplace for Art Design – it’s not just the galleries who go there, it attracts the buyers and collectors as well. You can see Art Design in Cologne too and meet designers and friends – but it’s far less commercial. When it comes to the classic furniture trade, it’s exactly the opposite: whereas Milan shows absolutely anything connected with design – as well as a lot of stuff that has nothing to do with design at all – the imm cologne shows a kind of edited version of the new developments, selected according to their commercial potential. What’s shown here is what will eventually end up in people’s homes in Europe, China, America or wherever. The imm cologne is less exclusive in terms of the products it shows than it is in terms of the companies that present themselves here. Whereas Milan combines all the influences in a huge, fascinating show, the Cologne fair – because it takes place in January – has time to concentrate on an edited version, and that’s what’s so good about it. Of course there are distractions here too, but not to the same huge, sprawling extent as in Milan. Most of the people who come to Cologne have a serious interest in design and ordering, because they want to fill their stores with beautiful things.
Is that what makes Cologne so attractive – the commercial side of things?
No, there’s more to it than that. For me, its main appeal lies in the juxtaposition of the commercial and the experimental, and especially the talent forum D3 Design Talents. In the last two years in which I’ve sat on the jury of the D3 Contest, the presentation has been extremely good, really amazing, and shown an incredible amount of talent. In my opinion, it’s this quality and the generosity with which the imm cologne invites the approx. 30 selected contestants, helps them with their prototypes and presents them at the show that makes Cologne unique. In this respect, it’s as if the imm cologne is acting as a non-profit organisation, giving the upcoming designers and students a forum for presenting themselves on an important international stage without having to compete with thousands of elitist events by star designers. So on the one hand you’ve got a professional selection of commercial design, and on the other a strong area of purely experimental design. And the two complement each other wonderfully because there’s nothing standing between them. Both sides can learn a lot from each other. It’s an elegant, intense reduction of what happens in the design world, like the essence of a good sauce.
This year you were the architect on the imm cologne Trendboard. Did you find the method of discussing the current tendencies in design and how they sometie in with consumer groups, the so-called milieus, a helpful approach?
You mean the working model of coining meaningful and “evocative” terms for certain attitudes and trends and correlating them with what’s happening in design right now? Well, it results in a construct that doesn’t actually exist in reality, of course. But it’s a very interesting and helpful construct all the same. Especially for the public, for certain sections of the design world and for lots of manufacturers who want to get an overview and understand what’s happening beyond their factory walls. With its sketch-like texts, the Trend Book creates a narrative catalogisation that’s both important and useful, especially as its conclusions point the way to the future. This year, however, I would have liked to send a signal appropriate to the cataclysmic event that’s befallen us all: the economic crisis. During the workshop, I compared the crisis and its long-term implications with the atomic bomb, Sputnik and the invention of Google. Because even if the impact of economic change is slower to take effect, it’s none the less dramatic. The workshop could have been an opportunity to show all the different solutions that are possible. But at the end of the day, the Trend Book is mainly about creating a record of emerging developments and not so much about arguing the case for the ones you think are right. Even if that’s precisely the kind of thoughts a lot of designers are having right now.
In view of the drastic changes our society is experiencing as a result of the economic crisis, which of the trends do you think will prove the most enduring?
The aspect of durability that’s already apparent in many of the pieces we collected during our preparations for the workshop, like the chair by Konstantin Grcic or the one by Jasper Morrison. To put it simply, the things that will last will be things that are well-made – i.e. things with good-quality materials, good workmanship and good design. I also think the trend towards experimentation will continue as well, even though the something times crazy ideas younger designers are coming up with don’t have much chance of survival on the market. I happen to believe that experimental design – regardless of whether it’s the work of young or established designers – is the only salvation for the design industry. Firstly, maybe not selling millions of everything is a good thing – good for the environment, good for culture and good for consumers, too. Secondly, without all the crazy experimental stuff, none of the other stuff would ever exist. Research, experiments and even to a certain extent “Art Design” are the drivers for the entire industry – even though the industry might not be willing to admit it.
Is it the tendency towards purification and purging that’s creating the necessary latitude for experimental design?
It’s largely the many young designers who are seeking their own means of expression and who have all kinds of possibilities for trying things out and presenting themselves to the public, even without a manufacturer. That’s leading to a lot of new ideas. For people like that, the crisis could definitely be a chance to think about what they really want to do. I also have to ask myself what I’m actually doing, what exactly I’m contributing to our culture and what I’m taking from the earth to do so. In what way am I trying to change people, what feelings do I want to convey to them? Do I want to solve a certain problem for them or do I want them to take something seriously, do I want to make them happy or is it a more a case of wanting to discipline them?
And what conclusion have you come to?
I want to give the people who use my things a good feeling – it’s as simple as that. That’s why I use a lot of colour and light.
What about the designer’s responsibility for the consumer products he makes, or for the ecological sustainability of his product designs?
He certainly does have a responsibility, and I think it’s good that it’s being talked about so much right now. Take the new Magis chair by Jasper Morrison, which suddenly combines plastic with wood – that’s totally untypical of Magis. Maybe not all companies are that open to change and not all designers are as charismatic as Jasper Morrison, but we do have a certain influence on the manufacturers’ decision, they might just need a little push in the right direction. I know that sounds a bit corny, a bit like the generation of ’68’s philosophy, but I also feel a sense of responsibility to cause as little damage as possible with the few limited-edition pieces I produce.
And yet you use a great deal of plexiglas?
Yes I do, but there’s more to sustainability than using ecologically neutral or recycled materials – it’s a question of the amount of materials you use as well. You ought to choose the material you need the smallest amount of in order to achieve your goal – long-term, that’s the most resource-friendly approach. A steel structure might be less expensive than acrylic which, when it comes down to it, is made from petroleum. But I don’t use masses of it, I use it like a really precious material. What the buyer gets from me is a chandelier made of plastic discs rather than crystals. Maybe one day it will end up hanging in a museum as a curiosity, as an example of all the things people used to make out of oil, and some little girl will say “Daddy, what’s oil?”
What about the near future?
The current situation is an opportunity for each and every designer to give his work some serious consideration and not just do something because it’s fun or cool. At the end of the day, that gets pretty boring. And if you look at the design icons by today’s masters – the work of Jasper Morrison and Konstantin Grcic, Ron Arad’s chairs or the little things Stefano Giovannoni has been doing for Alessi – there’s nothing whimsical about them: they’re serious design, not jokes. When design is taken seriously, it contains cultural aspects, artisanal qualities or even, in my case, architectural solutions. Then design can be an expression of something that goes far beyond itself.
Above image: Screen shot of Johanna Grawunder's interview by Claudia Wanninger.
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