design is a state of mind

Transcription

Press Release
Martino Gamper:
5 March – 18 May 2014
Serpentine Sackler Gallery
Serpentine Galleries has invited the influential London-based Italian
designer Martino Gamper to curate a new exhibition at the Serpentine
Sackler Gallery. design is a state of mind will present a landscape of
shelving systems, telling the story of design objects and their impact on our
lives. This is the second major design exhibition staged by the Serpentine,
following Design Real curated by Konstantin Grcic in 2009.
Martino Gamper said: “There is no perfect design and there is no über-design.
Objects talk to us personally. Some might be more functional than others,
and the emotional attachment is very individual. This exhibition will showcase
a very personal way of collecting and gathering objects – these are pieces
that tell a tale.”
An extensive display of shelving systems from the 1930s to the present day
will form the backbone of the exhibition. Ranging from historic design
classics and one-off pieces, to industrial, utilitarian, contemporary and newly
commissioned work, the exhibition will include designs by Gaetano Pesce,
Franco Albini, Ettore Sottsass, Ercol, Gio Ponti and IKEA. Each display
system will also be used to organise and exhibit collections of objects
curated from the personal archives of Gamper’s friends and colleagues as
well as an extensive library of contemporary furniture manufacturing
catalogues from around the world. Among the designers whose collections
will be displayed are: Enzo Mari; Paul Neale; Max Lamb & Gemma Holt; Jane
Dillon; Michael Marriott; Sebastian Bergne; Fabien Cappello; Adam Hills;
Michael Anastassiades; Andrew McDonagh & Andreas Schmid; Daniel
Eatock and Martino Gamper himself.
Martino Gamper: design is a state of mind is presented in collaboration with
Museion, Bolzano, Italy (12 June – 06 September 2015) and Pinacoteca
Giovanni e Marella Agnelli in Turin (24 October 2014 – 01 March 2015) and
runs concurrently with an expansive exhibition at the Serpentine Gallery by
American artist Haim Steinbach. Furthering the Serpentine’s commitment to
contemporary design, both exhibitions highlight objects that have made a
significant impact on our lives and offer new perspectives on material
culture.
The exhibition is sponsored by renowned Italian department store la
Rinascente who have – in collaboration with Serpentine Galleries –
commissioned Martino Gamper to conceive a site-specific installation for the
arcades of their Milan store. This exciting new commission, In a State of
Repair, will be launched at Salone Internazionale del Mobile International
furnishing accessories exhibition in April. Further support for the exhibition
comes from the design is a state of mind Exhibition Circle and the Italian
Cultural Institute, London.
For press information contact:
Miles Evans, [email protected], 020 7298 1544
Press images at serpentinegalleries.org/about/press-page
Serpentine Gallery, Kensington Gardens, London, W2 3XA
Serpentine Sackler Gallery, West Carriage Drive, Kensington Gardens, London, W2 2AR
Notes to Editors:
Martino Gamper (b. 1971, Merano, Italy) lives and works in London. Starting as an
apprentice with a furniture maker in Merano, Gamper went on to study sculpture
under Michelangelo Pistoletto at the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna. He completed a
Masters in 2000 from the Royal College of Art, London, where he studied under Ron
Arad. Working across design and art venues, Martino Gamper engages in a variety of
projects from exhibition design, interior design, one-off commissions and the design
of mass-produced products for the cutting edge of the international furniture
industry. Gamper has presented his works and projects internationally, selected
exhibitions and commissions include: ’Tu casa, mi casa’, The Modern Institute,
Glasgow (2013); ‘Bench Years’, London Design Festival commission, V&A Museum,
London (2012); ʻGesamtkunsthandwerk’ (Karl Fritsch, Martino Gamper and Francis
Upritchard), Govett-Brewster Art Gallery, New Plymouth – New Zealand (2011); Project
for Café Charlottenborg, Kunsthal Charlottenborg, Copenhagen (2011); ‘Bench to
Bench’, public street furniture in East London in collaboration with LTGDC (2011); ‘A
100 chairs in 100 Days’, 5 Cromwell Place, London (2007); ‘Wouldn't it be Nice...Wishful
thinking in Art & Designʼ, Centre dʼArt Contemporain, Genève (2007). Gamper was
the recipient of the Moroso Award for Contemporary Art in 2011, and the Brit
Insurance Designs of the Year, Furniture Award in 2008 for his project ‘A 100 Chairs
in 100 days'.
Image credits:
Photography© Angus Mill
Exhibition: Martino Gamper: design is a state of mind
5 March – 21 April 2014
LIST OF WORKS
Alvar Aalto
112B Wall Shelf 1936 / 1960’s
Birch veneer, natural lacquer
Courtesy of Artek
Objects courtesy of Fabien Capello
Franco Albini
838 Veliero 1940 / 2014
Ash, brass, stainless steel, iron, glass
Courtesy of Cassina showroom, Brompton Road, Knightsbridge, London
Objects courtesy of Oiva Toikka
Franco Albini and Franca Helg
LB/10 1956
Rosewood
Courtesy of Nilufar Gallery
Objects courtesy of Jane Dillon and Charles Dillon
Ron Arad
R.T.W c.1996
Patinated steel, anodised aluminium
Courtesy of Ron Arad Associates
BBPR
Spazio c.1960
Painted steel
Courtesy of Francis Upritchard
Objects courtesy of Karl Fritsch
Osvaldo Borsani
L 60 1946
Metal, teak
Objects courtesy of Rupert Blanchard
Osvaldo Borsani
Integrated modular shelving unit and desk, Model E22 1947-1955
Desk: walnut-veneered wood, painted metal, brass
Chair: stained wood, fabric
Courtesy of Galleria Rossella Colombari, Milan – Italy
Objects courtesy of Paul Neale
Andrea Branzi
Gritti Bookcase 1981
Laminated wood, ash wood, crystal
Objects courtesy of Maki Suzuki
Andrea Branzi
Grandi Legni GL21 2009
Reclaimed wood, steel
Objects courtesy of Andrew McDonagh and Andreas Schmid
Andrea Branzi
Wall bookshelf 2011
Toulipiè, crystal
Objects courtesy of Daniel Eatock
Campo Graffi
Bookcase 1950s
Rosewood, metal
Objects courtesy of Bethan Wood
Anna Castelli Ferrieri
Bookcase 1946
Walnut-veneered wood, painted metal
Objects courtesy of Jurgen Bey
Demetrius Comino
Dexion Slotted Angle 1947 / 2014
Steel
Courtesy of Dexion Storage Systems
Objects courtesy of Ron Arad
Lucian Ercolani
Tall Bookcase/Room Divider Ercol Cupboard 1960s
English elm and beech
Courtesy of ercol Furniture
Piero Fornasetti (original project by Giò Ponti modified by Piero Fornasetti)
Trumeau Malachite 1956
Green lacquered wood, black fake malachite lithographic transfer, metal, brass,
glass, lighting device
Martino Gamper
Booksnake Shelf 2002
Plywood, cherry veneer, Lebanese cedar veneer, pine veneer, solid cherry wood,
knock-in ﬁttings
Courtesy of David Gill Galleries
Objects courtesy of Michael Anastassiades
Martino Gamper
Together Library 2007
Custom made veneered plywood edged with polished walnut, cherry, cedar and
elm, laquered black and white mdf
Courtesy of the artist and Nilufar Gallery
Co-produced by Museion, Bolzano, Italy and Pinacoteca Giovanni e Marella
Agnelli, Turin, Italy
Martino Gamper
Collective No.5 2008
Black mdf, walnut veneer, ash veneer, zirm wood veneer, engraved aluminium
labels
Courtesy of Martino Gamper
Martino Gamper
L'Arco della Pace 2009
Coloured veneer, poplar plywood
Martino Gamper
Book Show Case 2010 / 2014
Powder coated laser cut steel
Martino Gamper
Turnaround 2011
Teak, coloured veneer, block board with maple edges
Courtesy of the artist and Nilufar Gallery
Objects courtesy of Ernst Gamperl
Martino Gamper
Off Cut Tables 2013
Teak, steel legs
Courtesy of the artist and The Modern Institute/Toby Webster Ltd., Glasgow
Martino Gamper
Fragmental Dining Table 2013
Linoleum, high density board, powder coated steel legs
Courtesy of the artist and The Modern Institute/Toby Webster Ltd., Glasgow
Martino Gamper
Arnold Circus Stools 2006 / 2014
Rotation moulded plastic
Ignazio Gardella
Bookcase 1970
Wood, black lacquered metal
Objects courtesy of Mats Theselius
Gerald Summers for Makers of Simple Furniture
ES Shelf 1999 (edition 2014)
Untreated beech plywood
Courtesy of Nils Holger Moormann GmbH
IKEA
Ivar 1976 / 2014
Pine
Courtesy of IKEA UK & Ireland
Objects courtesy of Richard Wentworth
Michele De Lucchi
Montefeltro 2008
Oak frame, walnut elements, linseed oil
Vico Magistretti
Nuvola Rossa 1977 / 2014
Beechwood
Courtesy of Cassina showroom, Brompton Road, Knightsbridge, London
Objects courtesy of Andrew Stafford
Angelo Mangiarotti and Bruno Morassutti
Cavalletto 1955
Walnut
Michael Marriott
Double Bracket 1995 / 2014
Bronze
Courtesy of Michael Marriott
Objects courtesy of Max Lamb and Gemma Holt
Bruno Mathsson
Bookcase 1943
Oregon pine shelves, birch brackets
Objects courtesy of Sebastien Bergne
Ico Parisi
Urio 1960
black lacquered metal, teak
Objects courtesy of Troika
Charlotte Perriand
Bibliothèque 1952
Pine, varnished wood, varnished sheet aluminium
Objects courtesy of Michael Marriott
Gaetano Pesce
Nobody’s Shelves Short Body 2002
Coloured polyurethane resin
Studio PFR (Ponti-Fornaroli-Rossetti)
Office wall unit 1950s
Rosewood
Objects of Tony Dunne and Fiona Raby
Giò Ponti
Altamira 1950-1953
Oak
Dieter Rams
606 Universal Shelving System 1960 / 2014
Natural anodised aluminium, powder-coated pre-treated mild steel
Courtesy of Vitsœ
Courtesy of Simon Prosser
Claudio Salocchi
Bookcase 1960
Metal, lacquered wood
Paul Schärer / Fritz Haller
USM Haller Modular Furniture 1963 / 2014
Chrome-plated brass, chromed steel, powder-coated metal
Courtesy of USM U. Schärer Söhne AG, Münsingen (Switzerland)
Courtesy of Jason Evans
Ettore Sottsass
Max 1987
Lacquered wood, reconstituted veneer, terrazzo tiles, plexiglass
Courtesy of Memphis
Gerald Summers for Makers of Simple Furniture
Book units 1934
Joined and stained tropical hardwood
Courtesy of The Geffrye, Museum of the Home, London
Mats Theselius
National Geographic Cabinet 1991
Natural beech, glass, brass
Courtesy of Källemo
Mats Theselius
Herbarium table 2003
Glass, lacquered steel
Courtesy of Källemo
Objects courtesy of Marc Newson
Jacques Tati
Mon Oncle 1958
117min
Alain Resnais
Le Chant du Styrène 1958
19min
Martino Gamper
Oiva Toikka
&
Franco Albini
838 Veliero 1940 / 2014
Maki Suzuki
&
Andrea Branzi
Gritti Bookcase 1981
253.
255.
A history of the world. Every
year since 1977, Oiva Toikka
travels to the glass village of
Nuutajärvi to create a glass
cube with the master blowers.
There he produces a time
capsule and a crystal ball.
Levitating inside the melted
glass something happens, it is
the ‘NOW!’ of the fake camera
click from an instagram
snapshot.
The Year Cubes (Vuosikuutiot)
are produced in Finland by iittala.
Heat Death (the end of the
Universe), (…), 2014, 2013, 2012,
2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006,
2005, 2003, 2002, 2001, 2000,
1999, 1997, 1996, 1995, 1994,
1992, 1991, 1990, 1989, 1988,
1987, 1986, 1985, 1984, 1983,
1982, 1981, 1980, 1979, 1978,
1977, (…), Big Bang (the
beginning of the Universe)
Simon Prosser
&
Dieter Rams
606 Universal Shelving
System 1960 / 2014
254.
Every week or so for the past
couple of years, I have left my
office at Penguin Books, where I
work as a publisher, to spend a
lunchtime browsing in the few
second-hand bookshops.
256.
Sometimes it is the title that
appeals to me, like John
Cheever’s Some People, Places
and Things That Will Not
Appear In My Next Novel or
Peter Handke’s The Goalie’s
Anxiety at the Penalty Kick.
Several are fairly obscure
catalogues of famous artists:
the brilliant ring-bound Miró
survey and the guide to
Matisse’s chapel, both of which
appealed on the basis that just
propping them on a shelf would
bring colour to a grey day.
258. 259.
260.
261.
262.
263.
264.
265.
266.
267.
Mats Theselius
&
Ignazio Gardella
Bookcase 1970
I seldom have any particular
book or author in mind as I
wander. Very often it is the
cover or the design that attracts
me (for example, the Johnny
Hallyday volume in its own
denim carry-bag, or the Picasso
catalogue printed on
corrugated board).
I have a particular fondness for
the beautifully printed and
designed large-format survey
books published by companies
such as Skira and Abrams in the
1950s and 1960s. Buying these
again feels like a form of
rescue. At other times it is the
sheer oddity of the book that
attracts: the small-format
French illustrated book Le
Zeppelin, the magisterial survey
of Kitsch or the ‘60s
Reich-inspired filmscript.
This collection of bricks was
given to me by Steve Jones
who was Carl Andre’s assistant
for more than 8 years
(1978–1986). I met him by
accident in the Tempo Bar in
New York. The eloquent drunk
man was so charming I ended
up leaving my friends to sit at
the bar listening to him for the
whole evening. By the end of
the night – you know how NY
bars don’t really close – having
drunk seven too many Long
Island cocktails, I agreed to take
a collection of bricks back to the
UK. In order to do this I had to
leave all the books I had bought
at Strand (36kg) at his place.
This is why to me, they are not
bricks but books I have not
read yet.
Rupert Blanchard
&
Osvaldo Borsani
Integrated modular shelving
unit and desk, Model E22
1947–1955
I collect objects similiar to the
way writers collect information
for writing a book. The objects
listed are used and made in
Sweden unless stated
otherwise:
Jane Dillion
&
Franco Albini and Franca Helg
LB/10 1956
1.
2.
Spatula, omelette pan, salt &
pepper shaker camping version
(made in Germany), sausage
tongs, tea pot (made in India),
handmade spatula, tea pot
(made in India), salt shaker, salt
shaker (made in India),
perculators (made in Italy),
corkscrews, pastry brush, jug
for hot milk (made in Italy),
measuring jug, grater, paring
knifes, vegetable peeler, can
opener, colanders, jug,
measuring cups,saucepans,
bamboo noodle server (made in
Japan), bamboo spatula (made
in Japan), funnel, pepper
grinder (made in France),
strainers, rice strainer (made in
Japan), loaf tin, coffeepot
(made in Turkey), bowl, pots,
grater (made in Japan),
scissors, spatula, handle for
strainer, falafel tool (made in
Egypt), food container (made in
China), container (made in
India), grater, pasta tool (made
in Italy), live pitter (made in
Italy), baloonwisk, spatula,
thermometer, ladels, pot, bread
saw, saucepans with container,
masher (made in Japan), knife
sharpener, pasta server, slotted
spoon, strainer stainless steel.
Daniel Eatock
&
Andrea Branzi
Wall Bookshelf 2011
257.
268. Foam tree trunk, outer insulator
container for an alcoholic drinks
product.
Section of shop front with
mosaic tiles.
Handmade African figure
Marble form
Concrete lump from the former
Central Saint Martins building,
Graphic Design department.
Marble cylinder container
Triangular metal clock, found at
a car boot sale in Romford. I
feel that this is what Romford
learned from Memphis.
Homemade geo ball
Metal rod cube, often mistaken
as an art piece, this came from
a closed down haberdashery
shop in Deptford.
Unknown perspex, metal,
threaded object.
Model factory planners /
salesmen set, 1930–40s. This
set of factory machinery and
workers was used by factory
floor planners and machinery
salesmen.
Empty Drinking Glasses,
2009–ongoing. This unmatched
set of glasses is united by its
identity as ‘packaging’ that
once contained food items, the
collection plays on the appeal
of getting something for nothing.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10. 11.
12.
13.
14.
Prototypes of international
hand signals for car drivers
made by Charles Dillon, 1973.
Large flat brush head from
France.
An invented take on the shaping
and forming of a hat.
A cattle branding iron given to
me by graphic designer George
Hardie after a lecture he gave
on branding.
Steel bolt, one of the important
elements in engineering.
Block plane
Wire whisk
Type of early rawl plug
Spanish spinning roof cowl
Zulu hat from South Africa
Japanese tea whisk
Ostrich feather duster
French chimney sweeping
brush
Ethiopian hat
23.
Chinese porceyne dragon
24.
Peacock feather
25.Rabbit
26.
Wasp nest
27.Insect
28.
Wooden bird
29.
Marmer Elephant in elephant
30.
Black and white goats
31.Lion
32.Deers
33.
Rino bowl
34.Frog
35.
Calligraphy brush
36.
Bird skeleton
37.
Beaded bird
38. Gorilla
Ernst Gamperl
&
Martino Gamper
Turnaround 2011
On the bottom of each
receptacle you’ll find my
signature and work number, the
year it was made and, quite
importantly, the age
of the tree.
Gemma Holt and Max Lamb
&
Michael Marriott
Double Bracket
1995 / 2014
53.
54. 55.
56.
57.
58.
59.
Jurgen Bey
&
Anna Castelli Ferrieri
Bookcase 1946
Martino Gamper
5 March – 21 April 2014
West Carriage Drive
Kensington Gardens
London W2 2AR
T +44 (0)20 7402 6075
F +44 (0)20 7402 4103
www.serpentinegallery.org
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
Celestial Emporium of
Benevolent Knowledge
(Emporio celestial de
conocimientos benévolos)
is a fictitious taxonomy of
animals described by the writer
Jorge Luis Borges in his 1942
essay The Analytical Language
of John Wilkins (El idioma
analítico de John Wilkins).
Wilkins, a 17th Century
philosopher, had proposed a
universal language based on a
classification system that
would encode a description of
the thing a word describes into
the word itself.
Makkink en Bey savings
ceramic
Studio Maarten Kolk en Guus
Kusters paper fish
Sea sponge
Lernert & Sander photo
Ring with pig
Weaverbirds nest
Fox bench
Wieki Somers teapot
39.
This was the first time I made
this shape.
40, 41. As a child I was often walking
along rivers searching for
driftwood, this was my
inspiration. Made of
copperbeech.
42, 43 . These pieces of wood both
came from the same solitary
oak tree.
44.
Made of oak
45.
Made of lime washed oak.
46, 47. I call them ‘legni philosophi’.
For the human eye it is difficult
to comprehend whether nature
or humans created this shape.
Made of olive wood.
48, 49. Made of Sycamore maple
50.
Oak grows very slowly. I have
read about a specimen tree, 7ft.
in diameter, known historically
as the ‘Washington Oak’. Its age
was estimated between 800
and 1000 years and is a symbol
of strength and steadfastness.
51, 52. The grain of the spout is
deliberately orientated so as to
influence the form of the piece
during the drying process, the
spout is the result of the natural
deformation of the wood. Made
of oak.
60.
Leach Pottery St. Ives,
Standard Ware
Richard Batterham, student at
Leach Pottery, 1957–1958.
Muchelney Pottery (John
Leach), s tudent at Leach
Pottery, 1960–1963, grandson
of Bernard Leach.
Yelland (Michael Leach),
student at Leach pottery,
1950–1955, son of Bernard
Leach.
Lowerdown Pottery (Jeremy
Leach), set up by David Leach,
Leach Pottery, 1938–1955, son
of Bernard Leach, now run by
Jeremy Leach, son of David
Leach.
Nic Harrison, student at Leach
Pottery, 1979–1980. He was the
last student taken by Bernard
Leach before he died in 1979.
Janet Leach, Bernard Leach’s
wife, Leach Pottery, 1956–1979.
She continued to work there
until her death in 1997.
Alan Brough, student at Leach
Pottery, 1968–1972.
Andrew Stafford
&
Vico Magistretti
Nuvola Rossa 1977 / 2014
61.
62.
63.
64.
65.
66.
Scholl applicators, for
application of tubular
bandages, made in the UK,
1970–80.
Sock drying form, phenolic
composite, made in the USA,
1950–60.
5 & 10 Centavos, worn out coins
from post war El Salvador which I found in my pocket
when I visited on the first day of
peace in 1992, 1950–60.
Webbed swimming glove,
moulded from silicone, bought
in Milan, still in production.
Ocarina, plastic woodwind
instrument, found in Tokyo,
1970–80.
Door release switch, found
amongst the demolished ruins
of James Turrell’s 1999
Cornwall eclipse inspired
installation The Elliptic Ecliptic,
made in the UK, 1999.
67.
Coconut scraper, made by
Anjali in Mumbai, India,
1980–present.
68.
Drift No. 3, brass, made in the
UK, 1950–70.
69.
String, found at Brick Lane
market in 1985.
70.
Ram with wool coat, found in
the USA, made 1950–60.
71.
T spanner, brazed steel with
6mm socket, bought at Bell
Street market 1997, homemade
in the UK, 1970.
72.
Radiator paintbrush, made in
the UK, 1960–80
73.
Wooden tool for back massage,
bought in Laos in 2000, carved
in Laos, 1999.
74.
Triple socket, 13amp facia,
phenolic composite, made by
MK in the UK, 1990–present.
75.
Sorocal, combined calculator
and abacus, made in Japan,
1979.
76.
Hohner ‘Examina’, harmonica
tester, made in Germany,
1970–90.
77.
Aluminium stand for clothes
iron, made in France, 1960.
78.
Large wingnut, steel, made in
the UK, 1950–70.
79.
Terry’s hedgehog, pipe cleaning
reamer, made in the UK,
1950–70.
80.
IBM ‘Selectric’ golfball, 12 point
Letter Gothic typewriter
letterform, made in the USA,
1961–1980.
81.
Fearnought ‘Harmo’ bell, piston
operated, made in the UK,
1950–70.
82.
Button polishing shield,
pressed brass, used by military
to protect uniform when
polishing metal buttons, made
in the UK, 1940–50.
83.
Muslim wrist watch, made by
Dalil Monte Carlo, India,
1970–80.
84.
Kodac EK2 instant camera,
camera which infringed the
copyright of Polaroid,
made in the USA, 1976–86.
85.
Sugar sifting spoon, EPNS,
given to me by my wife’s
Grandma Dora, made in
Sheffield, UK, 1940–50.
86.
Citrus juice press, bird shaped
injection moulded plastic,
purchased in Singapore,
1970–80.
Terminal protectors, for a car
battery, purchased in the UK,
1990–present.
88.
Glove drying forms, plastic,
made in the USA, 1950–70.
89.
Mini paint roller, purchased in
Tokyo, 1990–present.
90.
Telephone cover, for GPO 700
series telephone, made in the
UK, 1950–70.
91.
Big Muff, guitar effects pedal of
Mudhoney Fame, manufactured
in the USA, 1980–present.
92.
Oven lighting device, plastic
contraption to extend the use of
clipper type lighters, 1970.
93.
Bar tenders hammer, bamboo
and cast bronze, UK, 1960.
94.
Clyburn, No.3, adjustable
spanner, made in the UK, 1950.
95.
Cherry stone remover, bought
in Moscow, 2001, made in the
USSR, 1970–80.
96.
Earrings, made by the hill
people in Northern Guatemala,
bought from a market in
Huehuetenago in 1991,
1950–90.
97.
Knitting needle gauge, bell
shaped, made in the UK,
1950–70.
98.
Kettle scale collector, made in
the UK, 1970–80.
99.
Lead footballers, George Best
and Francis Lee, made by
Keymen in the UK, 1970.
100.
Footpump, made in
Czechoslovakia, 1950s.
101.
Yellow packing foam, made in
the UK, 2000s.
102.
DiscoSlim, dance/exercise
turntable, 1970–80.
103.
Sleek, a spoon for jars, made by
Alessi in Italy, 1996–present.
104.
Reflex hammer, made by
Ferrosan in Denmark,
1990–2000.
105.
Indicators, from an Austin A30,
made in the UK, 1950s.
106.
Plastic display shelf, made in
the UK, 1960.
107.
Venus, salt and pepper shakers,
made by H. Fishlove & Co.,
Chicago, USA, 1948.
87.
(www.queertools.org)
Michael Marriott
&
Charlotte Perriand
Bibliothèque 1952
108. 109. 110.
111.
112. 113.
114.
115.
Italian ‘Crodo’ breadstick
container, expanded steel mesh
and pressed steel, painted,
C1980, found in Milan, mid
1990s.
Plywood rack, homemade,
possibly intended for eggs,
C1970, gift from Leila McAlister,
late 1990s.
Dip dish, slipcast ceramic in the
form of upper case ‘I’, C1990,
purchased from Brick Lane
market, late 2000s.
Model Eiffel Tower, zinc die cast
alloy (Souvenir de Paris), C1960,
market, early 1980s.
Swedish decorators mixing
bowl, C1990, gift from Jake
Bowie, mid 1990s.
Lesney bread bait press,
painted die cast alloy press for
making fishing bait, C1955,
market, early 1980s.
Spanish broom head, injection
moulded plastic, with nylon
bristles, C2000, purchased from
Bilbao supermarket early
2000s.
Heater knob for a Peugeot 205,
116.
117.
118.
119.
120. 121.
122.
123.
124. 125.
126.
127.
128.
129.
130.
131.
132.
133.
C1985, salvaged from dead car,
late 2000s.
Swedish bungy, C1990,
purchased from a hardware
store in Stockholm, early 1990s.
Chain link extractor tool, die
cast alloy and steel, made by
Park Tools, USA, C2000,
purchased online, late 2000s.
Lawn sprinkler, C1990,
purchased from Seattle
hardware store, late 1990s.
Potato masher, C.1950,
market, early 1980s
Hard drive body, cast
aluminium, C2005, purchased
online, late 2000s.
Ceiling mounting plate,
component from Parentesi
lamp designed by Achille
Castiglioni, made in Italy,
C1960, purchased, London,
2013.
Plastic water bottle, C1970,
purchased from hardware
store, Poznan, Poland, early
1990s
Cookware, perforated
aluminium disc, C1960, found,
London, 1980s.
Data storage, possibly Italian,
injection moulded, hinged
container, C1970, found in
Acton, late 2000s.
Wire cage, plastic dipped steel,
found in London, mid 1990s.
Piano handle, turned oak, from
Yamaha Piano, made in Japan,
found in London, 1991.
Painted plywood off cut, found
in London, early 2000s.
Machine part, found in London,
early 2000s.
Torch, injection moulded plastic
with engraved Italian text,
C1980, purchased from a flea
market in Zurich, early 2000s.
Hoover component, C2000,
found in London, late 2000s.
NGK spark plug cap, made in
Japan, C1980, found in London,
mid 1990s.
Sony tape reel disc, made in
Japan, C1980, found in London,
late 1990s.
Bicycle light bracket, C1980,
found in London, late 1990s
Marc Newson
&
Mats Theselius
Herbarium Table 2003 / 2014
134.
135. 136.
137.
138.
139.
140.
141. 142.
143.
144.
145.
146.
147.
148.
Seal knife, bone
Meteorite and Damascus steel
knife, South African, made by
D. Horn.
Japanese contemporary knife,
made by H. Nakayama.
Damascus steel knife, South
African, made by D. Horn.
Japanese 15th Century knife.
Japanese 18th Century knife.
maker unknown.
American contemporary knife,
originated from Stroudsburg
Pennsylvania, made by Bud
Nealy.
Hand cleaved flint arrowhead
knife.
maker unknown.
maker unknown.
Russian contemporary knife
originated from Riverside
California, made by R.W.
149.
150.
151.
152.
153.
154.
Loveless.
French contemporary knife
made by Georgia Red.
maker unknown
Sintered knife, designed by
Marc Newson for Gagosian
Gallery, 2006, titanium, sintered
bronze and Damascus steel.
maker unknown.
maker unknown.
175.
176.
177.
178.
179.
Ron Arad
&
Demetrius Comino
Dexion Slotted Angle
1947 / 2014
155.
156.
157.
158.
159.
160.
161.
162 .
163.
164.
165.
166.
167.
168.
169.
170.
171.
172.
173.
174.
One of two coffee tables made
when I first came to London –
the base is a Singer machine
and the top is a dartboard.
Door stop from Javier Mariscal
– it’s called Coby the dog.
This glass was rescued before it
was cut – glasses all have a
stage in their life like this and
this part is usually thrown
away.
Piece of rubber – made whilst
bored at a dinner.
Alma (my wife) is a bird fanatic
– this is from a tree, found on
the ground and I gave it to her
as a gift.
Rescued from Baccarat glass
company – there is an
imperfection deep in the belly
of the bear.
This cat was carved by my
father who is now 97. It was
made the year I was born.
This was a muzzle for a dog
– now it’s a creature that
doesn’t remember it was a
muzzle.
Another animal – a friend of the
bird – and another dinner
production.
When I visited Alessi for the
first time, the owner had just
inherited one company from his
mother and one from his father.
These are rejects from casting.
A circular can
Head rescued from a hat maker
in Florence. It is Brancusi-like,
with strange markings and it
was love at first sight.
In 1999 I was busy working with
3D printing, specifically Rapid
Prototyping (RP). This was one
of the first pieces I ever tried to
make – the perfect vase, but it’s
not perfect…
From an engineering
department where they test the
limits of materials. When this
was squeezed it protruded and
instead of pressing it was
twisted into a nice shape.
From a meat mincing machine.
Tables found somewhere in
Camden. I was impressed by
the structure of stool, almost an
Autonomous Stool that one day
someone will come and claim
to have designed.
Poor material made to appear
like wood with very clever
compartments. I stole it from
my mother.
Expandable hat that you can
wear it in two positions, one
like a top hat and the other like a
cap.
Paddle – I am a Ping-Pong
fanatic – Martha gave it to me
and I have played Ping-Pong
with it.
Wooden mask from Africa. I
180.
181.
182.
183.
have no idea how much it is
worth?
African women put this on
their heads to carry large bags
and baskets.
I saw this in Chicago and was
impressed by its engineered
quality (like the Golden Gate
Bridge). Lawrence Converso
gave it to me.
Is this a tiger? I can’t tell but I’m
sure it once had a tail.
From the process of making of
sunglasses.
Chainmail glove – for protection
and knuckle duster for
aggression.
A relict from the age of cassette
players. I left the cassette in the
back seat and it was melted by
the sun while driving around
Spain. It turned into a bull.
Keeps the other bull company.
Memphis cigar box – the name
for the design group came
about while they were listening
to Bob Dylan and smoking
Memphis cigars.
Two rods, a pair that have aged
beautifully and make a couple.
Almost a model of a new
sculpture of mine. I love these.
Sebastian Bergne
&
Bruno Mathsson
Bookcase 1943
189.
188.
Wooden spoons from England, Wales, Ukraine,
Belarus, Poland, Norway,
Denmark, Sweden,
Sulawesi, Spain, France,
Morocco, Kenya, Chile,
India, Japan and the USA.
208.
209.
210.
211.
212.
The tool carrying the best
folkloric story is the one bought
for me by my Swiss friend
Herbert Müller who then
brought both elements via
Swiss Air to London. Its flight
label survives.
190.
213.
225.
191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 202.
203.
204.
205.
214.
A cast iron bowl I made from a
flat football for the exhibition
entitled Trophaen (trophies)
held in the Munich town hall
gallery during the European
football championships in 2004.
A piece of ginger brought from
the Viktualienmarkt in Munich
that i cast in silver and gave as a
present to Martino Gamper in
2008, who we all know loves
ginger.
Richard Wentworth
&
IKEA
Ivar 1976 / 2014
215.
The things that I attract pile up
into groups or cross-reference
to other categories.
I’ve never understood the
English devotion to digging by
pushing with a spade and have
always marvelled at those
cultures with highly developed
tools like mattocks and picks.
The ones that I’ve acquired
have always been for use, and
with that fond hope that they
will somehow be an
improvement on their
forebears. I have flown axes,
picks, mattocks and hoes from
the Antipodes, Cyprus,
Morocco, Kosovo, Uzbekistan,
China, Turkey, Mexico and most
of Western Europe.
I have many tools that have had
previous lives. One of them
came to me following my
father’s death (there are signs
of clout nails being used to
restrain the head) and the
glamorous red ridging tool
(French) came with its own
home made shaft ready fitted.
Another is the best tool in the
world. Originally found by a
friend in a brockenhaus in
Zurich, but united by me with a
French axe shaft. I always liked
the fact that the timber is ash
but the label said ‘hâche’. I like
the way that labels survive and
continue to give information.
237.
239.
240.
216.Truth phone
217.Scanner
218.
Dr Gauss emf
219.
Bow lingual
220.
Baby monitors
221.
Phone jammer
222.Dosimeter
223.
Plug bug 400
224.
Silver linings
Adam Hills
&
Martino Gamper
Book Show Case 2010 / 2014
Weaver bird’s nest, found on
Reunion Island.
Fixed focus lab glasses,
found in the Imperial College
skip in London. Clearly
designed for a specific purpose
which remains a point of
discussion. When stood up on a
table, the object lying
underneath this pair of glasses
comes into focus.
Tautological lamp, found in a
street market in Madagascar.
Using a light bulb as the fuel
container this paraffin lamp
upgrades its successor neatly
to the present.
Obsolete resistors, found at a
car boot sale.
Singing bowl, Tibet. This bowl
is played by striking the rim of
the bowl with a padded mallet.
It produces a fundamental
frequency and usually two
audible harmonic overtones it
is typically used by monks.
i-Pod catcher, found in Mayotte,
Indian Ocean.
Type sample from a Chinese
tailor. Used so clients can
specify in which typeface they
would like their names to be
embroidered into their tailor
made clothes.
Pesticide spout, found in a
street market in Shanghai,
China. M
ega toxic very happy
looking instrument.
Fisherman’s net mending
needle one made by a
fisherman and the other made
by Sebastien Noel, UK
Split flap display, gift by display
maker in Bournemouth, UK
Hell money, found in Shanghai,
China.
2CV/3HB, found in a street
market in Madagascar.
Cricket fighting cages, found in
Guangzhou, China.
Hammer glass slides, found in
the Imperial College skip in
London.
Basra 1953 , fabric war map
printed onto fabric. Soldiers
sewed them into their clothes
and used them when they were
lost in enemy territory.
Light mill, the vacuum filled
sphere starts rotating when
exposed to light. Chemist Sir
William Crookes invented the
Crookes radiometer on course
of some serious chemical
research when he noticed the
236.
238.
Tony Dunne and Fiona Raby
&
Studio PFR
(Ponti–Fornaroli–Rossetti)
Office wall unit 1950s
Karl Fritsch
&
BBPR
Spazio c.1960
201. Jason Evans
&
Paul Schärer / Fritz Haller
USM Haller Modular Furniture
1963 / 2014
207.
Troika
&
Ico Parisi
Urio 1960
Michael Anastassiades
&
Martino Gamper
Booksnake Shelf 2002
184.Icelandic Lava rocks, collected
for their extremely lightweight
structure.
Coral stones found near
Havana, Cuba, collected for
their abstract, anthropomorphic
shapes.
Tools from Neolithic period,
Cyprus. Polishing rough-cut
stone axes not only increased
the intrinsic mechanical
strength of the axe but also
meant that the head could
penetrate wood more easily.
Polished stone axes were
important for the widespread
clearance of woods and forests.
185.
Collected stones from
Kotronas, Lakoniki Mani,
Peloponnese, Greece. Collected
for their extremely fine white
lines that look as if painted. The
white lines are a sandwiched
sediment that has a different
hardness giving the lines a
slight relief.
186.
The sea bed of a small cave
near Emblisi, Fiscardo,
Kefalonia, Greece. Their fairly
small spherical/egg shape is
formed by rubbing against each
other, as the waves hit the cave
and make it act like a drum.
187.
Foneas, Messiniaki Mani,
Peloponnese, Greece: collected
for their unusual spherical/egg
shape.
I have always collected objects
that have seduced me in some
way. Sometimes a product half
finished, or deconstructed, with
an incomprehensible function
or seemingly from a different
world. There is no rule, just
things that I think are beautiful.
When I packed up my studio in
Bologna, my assistant wrote on
the box containing my
collection, Strani oggetti nel
mondo (Strange objects in the
world). The selection shown in
this exhibition is chosen from
this box and includes one or
two incognito objects designed
by me.
206.
effect sunlight had when it
shone on his testbed.
Holistic frog from Thailand,
popular percussion instrument
that makes a ‘croaking frog’
sound if you run a stick along
the spine.
RGB, found in a car boot sale,
obsolete display technology
based on a additive colour
system.
Numbering stamp for editions
of 0/1/3/2 and 4.
Early bird glass bottle from a street market in Shanghai.
Steam boat, Goa, India. Toy
boat made from tin plated steel
that is powered by a tiny candle
or olive oil as fuel.
Augmented spinning top, found
in Shanghai, China,
Write your name by yourself
from Luxor, Egypt.
A walnut rifle stock reclaimed
from Wilkes on Beak St, Soho,
before it became an art gallery.
We took several hundred of
these and used some to make
furniture with Martino.
226.
Tenon saw. The curved shapes
of the handle combines
beautifully with the functional
straight blade.
227.
Mahogany and brass handle
from a draper’s chest.
228.
Brass ring bolt, probably from a
stable.
229.
Turned timber dumbbells, used
in Victorian times for children’s
exercises.
230. Cigar mould.
231. Brass posy vases from a
church.
Bethan Wood
&
Campo Graffi
Bookcase 1950s
232.
When asked to assemble a
collection, I decided to select a
small sample of my objects,
under the main theme of Plastic
Fantastic. Plastic was perhaps
the first material that I started
to collect and has been a
constant presence in my
collecting, as I’ve always been
drawn to its various guises.
Fabien Cappello
&
Alvar Aalto
112B Wall Shelf 1936 / 1960’s
233.
234.
The little grey headed tool from
New Zealand bears the word
‘grubber’. I’ve never found it to
be very effective for my needs.
235.
For some reason I tend to have
a lot of bowls... I never really
decided it was going to become
some sort of collection, but it
did. I love to eat food from them
and use them to display fruits,
nuts and vegetables. All of
them are from different places.
Plastic bowls bought in a retail
store that sells a wide range of
inexpensive household goods
in Marrakech, Morocco. I have
selected them for their colours
and forms.
This a camping bowl I bought
from a stall in Chrisp Street
Market, East London. I bought it
because of the little hook it has
on the side so that it can be
hung on
my kitchen wall.
These were given to me by my
241.
grandmother. They feel
incredibly familiar to me.
I made this one, it was glazed
by my 9 year old niece.
I am crazy about perforated
material, these were just trials
in ceramic.
I bought these from a workshop
in Vallauris, a small ceramic
town close to Nice in France.
Stone bowl from Iran that I
bought it at a tourist shop in
Bahrain.
I bought a lot of bowls in
different supermarkets in
Japan. I am fascinated by the
very high quality and crafted
feeling they hold as beautifully
mass-produced items.
This was made from the
punched out pieces that
remained from the making of
another bowl.
Andreas Schmid and
Andrew McDonagh
&
Andrea Branzi
Grandi Legni GL21 2009
242.
243.
244.
245.
246.
247.
248.
249.
250.
Italian travertine sculptures,
C1970s.
German anthroposophic box,
1930–50s. We have an
appreciation of Rudolph
Steiner’s philosophy.
Bronze Torso by Christoff
Schellenberger, C1970s.
Vorticist sculpture, English,
early 20th Century.
Bronze fish. Wouldn’t it be a
great door handle?
Travertine base, wooden wig
making head, Mickey Mouse
hat.
Mid-Century frame used in the
photographic industry.
Figurative German candle stick,
1945. Made in remembrance of
the war.
Modernist marble sculpture,
mid 20th Century.
Paul Neale
&
Osvaldo Borsani
Integrated modular shelving
unit and desk, Model E22
1947–1955
LPs and graphic ephemera are
two collections that feed
directly into my work as a
designer. One is kept at my
workplace (Graphic Thought
Facility’s studio) and the other
at home. 251.
These records are from a large
collection gathered over 35
years. Amongst the good examples are the overdesigned, the under-designed
and the unexceptional. These boxes of ephemera are
my mental notes. They have
become a constant source of
referral. It may be many years
before an item from the
collection becomes a key
reference for a project, but to
have actual examples at hand
rather than rely on vague
recollections has proved
invaluable.
252.
Adam Hills, Alvar Aalto, Andrea
Branzi, Andreas Schmid, Andrew
McDonagh, Andrew Stafford, Angelo
Mangiarotti, Anna Castelli Ferrieri,
BBPR, Bethan Wood, Bruno Mathsson,
Bruno Morassutti, Campo Graffi,
Charles Dillon, Charlotte Perriand,
Claudio Salocchi, Daniel Eatock,
Demetrius Comino, Dieter Rams, Enzo
Mari, Ernst Gamperl, Ettore Sottsass,
Fabien Cappello, Fiona Raby, Franca
Helg, Franco Albini, Fritz Haller,
Gaetano Pesce, Gemma Holt, Gerald
Summers, Giò Ponti, Ico Parisi, Ignazio
Gardella, IKEA, Jane Dillon, Jason
Evans, Jurgen Bey, Karl Fritsch,
Konstantin Grcic, Lucian Ercolani,
Maki Suzuki, Marc Newson, Mats
6785 Martino Gamper.indd 3
Theselius, Max Lamb, Michael
Anastassiades, Michael Marriott,
Michele De Lucchi, Oiva Toikka,
Osvaldo Borsani, Paul Neale, Paul
Schärer, Piero Fornasetti, Richard
Wentworth, Ron Arad, Rupert
Blanchard, Sebastian Bergne,
Simon Prosser, Studio PFR, Tony
Dunne, Troika, Vico Magistretti,
Zaha Hadid.
Thank you for all your objects
and shelves
Martino Gamper
27/02/2014 09:16
The Serpentine Galleries, Pinacoteca Agnelli and Museion would like to thank the following
lenders to the exhibition: Artek; Cassina Showroom, Brompton Road, Knightsbridge, London;
Galleria Rossella Colombari, Milan – Italy; Dexion Storage Systems; ercol Furniture; The Geffrye,
Museum of the Home, London; David Gill Galleries; Galerie Rosemarie Jaëger, Hochheim; Tanya
Leighton Gallery, Berlin; The Modern Institute / Toby Webster Ltd., Glasgow; Källemo; Memphis;
Nils Holger Moormann GMBH; Nilufar Gallery; USM U. Schärer Söhne AG; and Vitsoe.
Directors’ Foreword
Design and architecture play an integral
role in the Serpentine Galleries’ mission
to showcase a diverse range of art
forms. The opening of the Serpentine
Sackler Gallery in 2013 has provided the
opportunity to expand our programmes
even further. In addition to the Pavilion,
which is now in its fourteenth year,
design is a state of mind is the second
major exhibition staged by the
Serpentine Galleries focused on design,
following Design Real curated by
Konstantin Grcic in 2009. We are
delighted to be working with designer
Martino Gamper on the organisation of
this exhibition, comprising the most
fascinating selection of shelving
systems, which tell the story of the
design objects that surround us.
Gamper’s practice encompasses design,
performance, exhibition-making and art,
engaging in a variety of projects from
exhibition design, interior design,
specialist commissions and the design
of mass-produced products for the
international furniture industry. His
abiding interest in the social aspects
of furniture design, underused spaces
and unwanted objects is exemplified by
his 2007 exhibition 100 Chairs in 100
Days, when he created a collection of
seats from discarded chairs found on
the streets of London.
design is a state of mind is principally
a show of bookcases and storage units,
ranging from historic design classics
and one-off pieces to industrial,
utilitarian and modern display systems.
These iconic pieces of furniture
represent some of the great designers
of the last century and bring awareness
to the ways in which their designs
have shaped our lives. The shelving
in turn functions as a support structure
for objects selected from the collections
of Gamper’s friends and colleagues,
exploring the intimate relationships
we form with objects over time – as
Gamper himself states, “design is
a state of mind and body.” Gamper’s
celebration of design as an active,
functional part of our daily lives is
also represented in the central spaces
of the Serpentine Sackler Gallery,
5
27/02/2014 09:16
which play host to a series of live events
taking place throughout the duration of
the exhibition.
Over the course of our discussions
with Gamper, design is a state of mind
has evolved beyond the Serpentine
Galleries’ walls into a parallel project
in Milan for the renowned department
store La Rinascente during the Salone
del Mobile design fair in 2014. For
this historic site in Milan, Gamper has
conceived the project in a state of repair,
inviting eight different craftsmen and
women to set up a temporary workshop
in front of La Rinascente’s building.
For this project, the audience is invited
to bring objects to be fixed for free,
addressing the expectations of customer
service and continuing the story of
consumption but also the traditional
values of Italian craftsmanship and La
Rinascente.
We are deeply grateful to Gamper for
accepting our invitation to curate design
is a state of mind at the Serpentine
Sackler Gallery. He has been a thoughtful
and enthusiastic collaborator throughout
the planning process and we cannot
thank him enough for organising
and selecting such an extraordinary
presentation of objects.
This book has been published in
collaboration with Museion, Bolzano and
Pinacoteca Giovanni e Marella Agnelli,
Torino on the occasion of this exhibition.
The project has been a wonderful
opportunity to work together on such
an exciting endeavour, celebrating
both Gamper’s close connection with
Italy and the collaboration between
the three institutions.
The collaboration with Museion has not
happened by chance: in 2011 the
Bolzano Museum of Modern and
Contemporary Art invited Martino
Gamper to design a new format for the
ground floor of its building. Following
his idea that this project should not only
address the physical space, but also its
impact on the behaviour of visitors, 2012
saw the opening of Museion Passage: a
flexible, modular space intended to fulfil
the demands of different types of
events. It is a pleasure to see Gamper’s
work with Museion continue in
this exhibition.
design is a state of mind is based on the
idea of accumulation and this concept
is closely related to the mission of
Pinacoteca Agnelli. They would like to
thank Martino Gamper and Serpentine
Galleries for having been involved in the
project and are delighted to be working
with the Serpentine again
after the success of the exhibition
China Power Station, which toured
to Pinacoteca Agnelli in 2010 – 11.
For many years Alice Rawsthorn
has been an inspirational supporter
of the Serpentine Galleries’ diverse
programme and we thank her for the
wonderful essay she has written for this
publication.
There are a number of organisations
and individuals whose involvement
has been crucial to this project. La
Rinascente has generously sponsored
6
27/02/2014 09:16
the exhibition at the Serpentine Sackler
Gallery and we are indebted to them
for their vital contribution, in particular
to Vittorio Radice for his enthusiasm
and encouragement. Additional funding
is kindly provided by Franco Noero
Gallery, Torino and Mr Stefano Pilati and
we would also like to thank the Italian
Cultural Institute for its support.
Julia Peyton-Jones
Director, Serpentine Galleries
and Co-Director, Exhibitions and
Programmes
The public funding that the Serpentine
receives from Arts Council England
provides an essential contribution
towards all of the Galleries’ work,
including the Exhibitions Programme,
and we are incredibly grateful for its
continued support.
Letizia Ragaglia
Director, Museion
Bolzano
Hans Ulrich Obrist
Co-Director, Exhibitions and
Programmes, Serpentine Galleries
and Director of International Projects
Marcella Pralormo
Director, Pinacoteca Giovanni e Marella
Agnelli
Torino
The Council of the Serpentine Galleries
is an extraordinary group who provide
essential ongoing funding to the
Galleries. The continued success
of the Galleries is due in large part
to the Council as well as to the
Learning Council, our Patrons, Future
Contemporaries and Benefactors.
7
27/02/2014 09:16
Sometimes design
should come from
the stomach
Alice Rawsthorn
There is a scene in Jacques Tati’s 1958
film Mon Oncle in which the wealthy,
irritatingly smug Madame Arpel
shows off her newly built house to a
neighbour. Designed in what was then
called the ‘ultra-modern’ style, it is
equipped with electronic gates and an
improbably large fish sculpture in the
garden that spurts water from its mouth
at the flick of a switch. The kitchen looks
like a laboratory, and the other rooms
are sparsely furnished with fashionably
spindly furniture and objects in
strikingly abstract shapes. “All the
designs were done by my husband’s
factory,” Madame Arpel purrs proudly.
By the end of the film, her dream
home has become a dystopian house
of horrors, thanks to the chapter of
accidents that unfolds during a visit by
a bumbling elderly relative, the ‘uncle’
of the title played by Tati himself. No
sooner has he sabotaged the kitchen by
fumbling clumsily with its inscrutable
controls and broken an elegant but
unstable chair, than the house is cursed
by mechanical faults, which cause its
multifarious electrical contraptions to
flash on and off uncontrollably.
Mon Oncle is one of the films that
Martino Gamper has chosen to
screen in design is a state of mind,
an exhibition he has curated at the
Serpentine Sackler Gallery to explore
very different concepts of design to the
one depicted by the Arpels’ home. To
Gamper, the film acts as a cautionary
tale against the intensely stylised,
obsessively controlled vision of design
that Tati satirised so deftly, yet has
proved so pernicious that it continues
to define many people’s perceptions of
design today.
Gamper’s approach to his work as
a designer and maker of furniture,
objects and environments is warmer,
looser, more convivial, intuitive and
improvisational. Guided by instinct,
he has defined a singular approach
to design by treating each project
as an experiment whose outcome is
determined by the course of the design
process, rather than his desire to
9
27/02/2014 09:16
conform to conventional design criteria
such as efficiency, beauty or innovation.
Ignoring the traditional boundaries
between design and art, technology and
craftsmanship, Gamper has emerged as
a prolific, deeply idiosyncratic designermaker, who works on many different
scales – from individual commissions
to mass-manufacturing – with a diverse
range of materials and techniques, and
an eclectic range of collaborators that
includes artists, musicians, carpenters,
glass blowers, authors and chefs, as
well as fellow designers. Steeping
his practise in his enthusiasms, like
art, food, cycling and music, Gamper
considers the epic meals he cooks for
friends, for which he often invents the
recipes, furniture, dishes, cutlery and
cooking tools, to be as important to his
evolution in design as his objects.
The haphazard, intensely personal
nature of his design process is reflected
in the outcome. From tabletops made
from fragments of different woods, to
chairs collaged together from the debris
of discarded furniture, Gamper’s work
can look raw, incongruous, random,
even ungainly, yet resounds with the
pleasure he experienced in producing
it. “I always find that you work best
when you enjoy what you do, because
you’re not trying to force things,” he
explained. “Spontaneity is important to
me, and having the freedom to follow
my instincts. Sometimes design should
come from the stomach.”
Gamper discovered design by chance.
Born in 1971 in Merano, a spa town
in South Tyrol, a mountainous region
that is now part of Italy – having
oscillated between Austria, France
and independence during different
periods of its history – he left school
at fourteen to combine his studies
with an apprenticeship for a cabinet
maker. It was an apt choice of career
for the area, which is filled with small
and medium sized workshops making
furniture from local timber, but in his
early twenties Gamper enrolled on a
sculpture course taught by the artist
Michelangelo Pistoletto at the Academy
of Fine Arts in Vienna. Shortly after
arriving, he attended a lecture given by
the industrial designer Matteo Thun.
“Until then, I had no idea what design
was,” he recalled. “But for me, having
been trained to make things for other
people, when Matteo described the way
he worked I thought how much more
interesting it would be to realize my
own ideas.”
Thun offered him a job at his industrial
design studio in Milan, but after two
years there, Gamper felt frustrated by
the constraints of commercial design
and wary of being absorbed by the
cliquey Milanese design scene, in which
young designers were still stifled by
the legacy of the ‘golden age’ of Italian
design in the mid-20th century. In 1997,
he moved to London to study product
design at the Royal College of Art,
where he returned to furniture making.
Applying the skills he had learnt as an
apprentice to found materials, Gamper
constructed objects or parts of them,
mostly corners, with which he was
obsessed at the time.
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After graduating in 2000, Gamper
stayed in London, supporting himself
by occasionally selling pieces of
furniture and teaching at the RCA.
It was easy to spot his students, as
they tended to share his fascination
with obscure details like joints and
fastenings. Gregarious and resourceful,
he cut a dynamic figure on London’s
independent design scene, organising
exhibitions with friends and ad hoc
projects like the Trattoria al Cappello,
an early version of a pop-up restaurant
for which he staged elaborate meals
in different places with two friends
from the RCA, Maki Suzuki and Kajsa
Ståhl of the Åbäke design group, and
the graphic designer Alex Rich. As
well as designing the setting for each
meal, they invented the dishes using
impromptu utensils like a cordless drill
Gamper had customised to whip cream,
and the bespoke graters he had devised
for his favourite ingredient, ginger.
“Cooking and designing are kind of
similar,” noted Gamper. “In each case,
it is about the choice of materials, tools
and methodologies, how you organise
the process and display the finished
thing. And then there’s the sense of
bringing people together.”
It is easy to forget how unusual his
rough-hewn, makeshift work seemed
a decade ago when product designers
tended to conform with one of three
stereotypes: the rationalist technocrats,
typified by Jasper Morrison and
Konstantin Grcic; conceptualists, like his
RCA colleagues Tony Dunne and Fiona
Raby, whose work critiqued technology,
consumerism and other aspects of
material culture; and ‘design-artists’,
who were developing limited editions
of expensive, impractical eye candy
furniture to be flipped at auction. None
of these templates applied to Gamper,
nor did he fit into the then-nascent
craft resurgence: his practise was too
urban and post-industrial, and he was
too impatient to strive for artisanal
perfection.
Not that it mattered. Gamper had the
technical skills and entrepreneurial
chutzpah to realise his ideas, and to
exhibit the results independently, as he
did after setting himself the challenge
of designing and making a hundred
chairs in as many days in 2007. Having
constructed the chairs, mostly from
fragments of unwanted furniture found
on the street or in skips, Gamper
exhibited the result in London with
the self-explanatory title, 100 Chairs
in 100 Days. Witty, invigorating and
provocative, the mass of chairs – each
one improbably surreal in shape and
structure – was a compelling manifesto
for Gamper’s practise and the vitality
with which he had reinvigorated one
of the most clichéd areas of design:
the chair. “It demonstrated speed,
spontaneity, sense of form, getting
better as you go along and a playful
understanding of design history,” as the
design historian, Emily King, put it.
The Milan design gallery Nilufar
bought the entire collection, and
commissioned Gamper to make new
pieces using the debris from the
demolished interior of Hotel Parco dei
Principi in Sorrento, designed by the
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Italian architect Giò Ponti in 1960. The
project proved so successful that he
embarked on a similar exercise with
remnants of furniture by one of Ponti’s
contemporaries, and another of his
own design heroes, Carlo Mollino.
Working with their leftovers added
a new dimension to “reprocessing”,
as Gamper calls it. “When I started
cutting into those pieces I could see
the richness of the detailing, even in
something as small as an extra layer of
ply,” he recalled. “It was only by taking
them apart that I realised how much
thought had gone into them.”
Gamper has since undertaken
commissions for public institutions
and commercial art galleries – such as
The Modern Institute in Glasgow, Kate
MacGarry in London and Galleria Franco
Noero in Turin – as well as contributing
to group shows with artists, including
his wife, Francis Upritchard, and a
constantly expanding cast of other
collaborators. He has also developed
pieces for industrial production by the
Italian furniture makers Magis and
Moroso. One of his strengths – and
oddities – is his utter disinterest in
categorising his practise, or in other
people’s efforts to do so, thereby
enabling him to elude the conventional
barriers between art and design with
ease and grace. “The way I work has
always been related to the way I want
to live,” he explained. “That’s why it is
made up of lots of fragments. I enjoy all
of them.”
Still based in Hackney, albeit in a larger
studio and workshop that he shares
with Upritchard, Gamper now works
with a small team of fellow designermakers as well as an elastic network of
fabricators, manufacturers and artisans
with whom he makes his pieces. Yet
one ritual of his working life remains
unchanged: the communal lunch that
he and his colleagues cook and eat
together in the studio with anyone else
who happens to be there.
Thanks partly to Gamper’s own
influence, his inclusive, improvisational
approach to design is increasingly
popular among young designers in
an age when digital technology has
empowered them to define their own
ways of working, and to apply their
skills to ever more diverse strategic
challenges. Some have chosen to
redesign the provision and delivery of
social services; others are redefining the
product design process to allow the rest
of us to use 3D printing and other digital
production technologies to customise
finished objects to meet our needs and
wishes.
Despite his Tyrolean ambivalence
towards Italy and its design scene, many
of Gamper’s own design influences are
fellow Italians, principally artisanallyinclined mid-20th century design
maestri, like Ponti and Mollino, who
forged long and fruitful collaborations
with skilled craftspeople. There are also
parallels between the punk spirit of his
practise (if not its geographic and social
context) and that of James Blain Blunk
and other members of the alternative
design community that emerged in the
forests of Northern California during the
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early 1970s, when they carved furniture
from fallen redwood and cypress trees.
But in many respects Gamper’s intuitive,
autodidactic take on design is closer
to that of the independent graphic
designers who have a rich tradition
of combining commissioned work
with experimental personal projects.
His friends in Åbäke do so, as did
historic figures such as Dom Sylvester
Houédard, a Benedictine monk who
was an influential figure in both radical
typography and concrete poetry during
the 1960s and early 1970s.
Characteristically, Gamper has
treated the Serpentine exhibition as
an opportunity to share his fluid and
expansive vision of design. The largest
space in the Serpentine Sackler Gallery
is devoted to collections of ephemera
assembled by himself and friends,
including fellow product designers
Michael Marriott and Sebastian Bergne,
the artist Richard Wentworth and the
graphic designers Paul Neale and Daniel
Eatock. Bergne’s contribution consists
of objects he assembled while living
in Bologna, including half-finished
products retrieved from factories and
a Soviet-era radio antenna made by
a Cold War tinkerer from engineering
debris. The collections will be displayed
on shelving units, many of them 20th
century pieces by Italian designers he
admires, like Ettore Sottsass, Andrea
Branzi, Anna Castelli Ferrieri, Angelo
Mangiarotti and Ponti.
A second space is dedicated to the
screening of films that Gamper
considers pertinent to our relationship
to design, including Mon Oncle, and to
the hundreds of furniture catalogues he
has amassed from manufacturers and
retailers all over the world that visitors
can read at one of his tables. “They’ll
show us what’s really out there, he
explained, “not just the selection of a
selection of a selection that designers
like me usually see.” In a third space,
he has chosen to exhibit a collection of
paperweights belonging to another of
his design heroes, the veteran Italian
design radical, Enzo Mari, who taught
him in Vienna.
Gamper’s objective is for people
to be so intrigued by what they
find in the show that they question
their preconceptions of design and
reconsider how different objects and
environments affect their behaviour
and the choices they make. “Hopefully
they’ll go away with a sense that
design can be much more than a nicely
designed chair,” he said. “There are
many different approaches to design,
and it has no given meaning. That’s why
I describe it as a state of mind, one that
is constantly changing.”
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Interview:
Martino Gamper
Julia Peyton-Jones
Hans Ulrich Obrist
JPJ: There seems to be a special
language for people who design things.
They’re often called ‘makers’. ‘Craft’ has
a particular meaning and its institutional
associations can cause uneasiness.
Could we begin by talking about
this terminology?
To go all the way and say, ‘I’m a
craftsman’, is probably a step too far
for many people.
MG: I think it’s probably an attempt to
find a nicer word for craft. Designers
aren’t necessarily associated with the
craft profession, so designer/maker – or
maker/designer – is a term for those who
design but also make.
MG: Enzo Mari always divided craft from
design. Craft for him was something
very sacred, as was industry. He didn’t
really like this crossover. There was
nothing in between. He was very black
and white on that subject. Now that
production processes have changed,
industry no longer only fabricates massproduced items. They also make
personalised items: one-off shoes,
for example. These are industrially
manufactured, but still there’s a
person who has a hand in making
an object individual.
HUO: Why not just use the word ‘designer’?
Why does it have to include ‘maker’?
MG: I guess it comes from this idea
that was very strong in the 1980s and
1990s that the designer isn’t the one
actually making the things. The designer
delegates to other people, and then they
do the making. I think it’s a very new
phenomenon – in the last ten, fifteen
years – where people have begun to say,
‘I design and I also make’, because it
used to be that there was no half way.
JPJ: Maybe in a few years it will be
acceptable, even desirable, to call
yourself a craftsperson.
JPJ: That kind of terminology – craft or
design – seems limiting. It’s like saying
that if somebody’s a sculptor they can’t
be a filmmaker; or if they’re a filmmaker
they can’t be a painter; or if they’re a
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painter they can’t be an architect. Today
that’s an outmoded notion.
MG: In order to make you have to think.
But if you’re a maker then you’re an
executor for someone else – you’re
actually ‘lower’ than a craftsperson.
A real craftsperson wouldn’t make
someone else’s work. They would just
make their own work. They wouldn’t
take any design on from anyone else;
if you’re just an executor then it’s
basically industry.
HUO: This relates to the project you are
working on with us for La Rinascente in
Milan. You are celebrating craft there.
MG: The La Rinascente project, which
I’ve called in a state of repair, is the
development of an idea that I’ve been
playing with for quite a long time. I get
a lot of pleasure from fixing things,
which goes back to when I was a child.
Maybe that was where my interest in
design started – when you don’t just fix
something to be the same way it was
originally, but instead you fix it your
own way. You use wire in a particular
way, or you add something, for example.
So there is a certain sense of creative
possibility in repairing things.
This project is about the question of
what happens if someone designs and
sells beautiful objects that later develop
a fault, or they break. Does that
necessarily mean that they’ve reached
the end of their life and we have to throw
them out, or is there another way?
Should a big department store like La
Rinascente have a certain responsibility
to fix things? In that instance, is there a
way to redesign the object as well? La
Rinascente is a department store that
sells everyday goods but I wanted to
prompt the idea that – almost as a
customer service – they should care
what happens to the object afterwards.
It’s a statement for them to say ‘If we
sell you goods, we can also fix them. No
problem. We’ll fix them for free.’
HUO: We talk about craft in terms of
objects, but it’s constantly being shown
that we shouldn’t limit craft to the purely
physical. We should consider Richard
Sennett’s description of the crafts,
where new digital experts are also
craftsmen. A craftsman or craftswoman
can be someone who has a wider vision
than their own specialism and knows a
lot of things. That’s very connected to
the way you work, isn’t it?
MG: This is for me the overriding theme
of the exhibition and it explains the
choice of the title: design is a state of
mind. It’s actually how you want to
perceive something, rather than
prescribing what design should be.
That’s very much part of my practice:
the 360-degree approach that
incorporates everything from designing,
working in industry, to doing one-off
pieces, to working with galleries, to
designing exhibitions. For me, that’s
what design should be: creating more
possibilities.
JPJ: It’s a brilliant title for the show. It’s
brilliant because it’s philosophical, it’s
visionary, it’s contemporary, it’s a polemic.
Most importantly, it’s accurate. How do
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you think the public perception of design
has changed over the last forty years?
MG: In the last forty years design has
become a profession that’s intrinsically
connected with manufacturing and
industry. In the post-war years there
was a strong need for consumption.
Suddenly, people had disposable
income. Suddenly, there was a sense
that one could buy into another dream.
There was a big push to satisfy this
impulse. In the late 1960s this attitude
changed because people said, ‘Why do
I need all this stuff? Maybe I don’t need
all these objects around me.’ At one
point when your house is full, you start
questioning yourself: ‘What do I really
need? Why do I have to chuck this out
and buy something new?’
There was more of an interest in ‘What
will I do with objects?’, rather than
just owning them. Then there was a
shift in the late 1960s and early 1970s
when design began to be seen much
more as a cultural form. It became an
art form, to express yourself and to
question things. It was answering
the demand of an industry that was
growing and creating taste.
JPJ: Design in its widest possible
manifestation poses questions like: ‘How
do I want myself to be reflected in the
world? What do I wear? What do I use?
What do I carry?’ These are subliminal
messages that we give to the world.
MG: Well, I guess it’s a kind of liberation
– by buying a Jacobsen chair, you can be
seen as belonging to a particular class. If
you want it, you can buy it. I think there’s
another thing that design became
capable of, however: it became a way to
solve other problems. It has a lot to do
with urbanism: how you can use design
to talk about how people live in a city
and not purely about the architecture
of the city. Before, it was architects
thinking about a master plan, but design
such as furniture can be used to engage
with an environment.
HUO: Early on you revisited Giò Ponti and
Carlo Mollino. These are collaborations
with the dead. Could you tell us what
interests you about making objects with
these iconic designers; how you make the
future out of fragments from the past?
MG: I’ve worked performatively in the
past, for example with my project 100
Chairs in 100 Days (2007), or Furniture
While You Wait for the V&A Village Fete
in 2001. A friend of mine, Rainer Spehl,
and I collected discarded furniture from
the street. We cut them into smaller
bits and people could choose which
element they liked and then we’d make
something with them.
These projects helped me realise that
to create ideas you don’t necessarily
have to use paper, and for me that
was the shift towards understanding
the importance of making. Until that
point, Italian design was very much
an architect’s way of designing. As an
architect, you have a piece of paper, you
make a nice drawing and you give it to
someone who makes it. The London
way of designing was that if you had an
idea, there was the material, there was
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the opportunity, and then you made
something out of it.
Also, I realised that I had this skill as a
cabinet-maker so it was quicker for me
to realise my idea three-dimensionally
than to put it on a piece of paper.
When you revisit a design, when you
take something apart, you learn a lot
about how someone has been thinking,
how they’ve been making. When you
understand the little details you also get
an idea of their sensibility of proportions.
And when you work with objects
designed by the masters, you realise
that the better the initial design, the
better the outcome. The Ikea chair had
a limitation because it wasn’t that
exciting in the first place, but when you
cut into an Arne Jacobsen chair or into a
Mollino chair, suddenly you understand
the kind of material that’s there. It
seemed to me that the design world was
very much stuck in this idea of having to
be truest to the designers. Every
designer was trying to reinvent the wheel
for themselves. It was a very limited
world, for a seemingly creative field.
JPJ: It’s fascinating about the shift from
Milan to London with respect to design;
one could say a comparable thing happened in the visual art world, with the shift
from New York to London in the same
period. Do you feel that London is still
continuing to reinvent what design means?
MG: Yes, I definitely think that London
has become a powerhouse of ideas and
of creativity, whereas Milan has been a
little bit stuck for quite a few years, resting
on its own glory. The most important
question in Milan was: ‘Let’s try to find
good design that’s also commercially
driven.’ While I think that for a lot of the
people based in London, it was more the
idea of, ‘Let’s make something. We’ll see
afterwards if it sells.’ Tom Dixon didn’t
start welding because he thought he
was going to make a fortune out of it. Of
course, he understood that he could weld
something out of scrap metal and then
sell it. But there was a sense of, ‘Okay, I
can actually make something and sell it’,
rather than looking to create a big brand
from the start.
The reason I came to London was the
education: it was the Royal College of
Art. Ron Arad’s Design Products course
was so influential; he suddenly merged
furniture design and industrial design.
Usually these courses around Europe
are called ‘Product Design’. At the Royal
College it was ‘Design Products’. Arad’s
attitude was: ‘We call them “Design
Products” because design is more
important than the product.’ So design
is first and the product comes later. He
created this platform system where he
had six or seven different voices. One of
them could be Jasper Morrison, another
could be Konstantin Grcic, another
might be Roberto Feo, another could be
Gabi Klasmer, or Tony Dunne and Fiona
Raby … It made it completely free for
people to be creative and not to define
design as design, but to create ideas that
are design.
HUO: The exhibition as a medium
is linked to this very open approach
to the field of design. If one looks at
your biography, it’s evident that the
exhibition plays a very important role:
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gallery exhibitions like your recent Tu
casa, mi casa, at The Modern Institute,
Glasgow in 2013 – 14 or the wonderful
Condominium show at Franco Noero in
Turin in 2011.
MG: For me, exhibitions have always
been a way of talking about design in
a different way from when you design
something for an industry fair, for example,
because that would involve producing
furniture expressly for display in a showroom. I’ve always believed that this is
not the reason why design should exist.
This idea of using exhibitions to talk
about my work started with Corners, my
degree show at the Royal College, where
I created eight pieces for eight corners
in the room. Instead of just making a
table and putting the table into a space,
I always imagine how the space will
change with the furniture. So in a way
it’s one level down from interior design
or from architecture. Whatever you
design has an influence on the space.
For me the corner was an extension of
the furniture, and that was the first step
in thinking about an exhibition: how to
create my own space.
The German word describes it quite
well: gesamtkunstwerk. A general
oeuvre that’s more than just the
chair and the table; to this day that’s
something I struggle with. When I see
a chair or a table going on a pedestal in
an exhibition I always feel that design
should go beyond just that table and
chair. If it’s about a chair then let’s
fill a whole house with chairs! So the
100 Chairs exhibition was definitely a
milestone, and Condominium was a very
important show, because suddenly I had
this architecture that was so particular.
Tu casa, mi casa was one of the first
times I’ve used a white cube space of
that size; usually I’ve tried to exhibit in
existing, more domestic sites. Hence the
title of the show: Tu casa, mi casa – I take
on your house and it becomes mine.
So in a way the exhibition has always
been a great environment for me
to work within and also to have a
framework where you’re not necessarily
constantly questioning yourself: ‘What
am I doing as a designer? What is my
work?’ You create a space so that you
can fill it with ideas.
JPJ: Your concept of the universality of
furniture is fascinating: the universal
understanding and recognition of
the form and function of a chair, for
example. Could you tell us about the
transition from chairs to shelves, which
will form the core part of your exhibition
for us, and why shelves occupy the
same importance for you as chairs?
MG: I realised that I could somehow talk
about how people gather objects and
how people collect things. Chairs and
tables and shelves are the basic parts of
a domestic environment. And the way
the galleries at the Serpentine Sackler
are set out is very much like a wide
corridor that you walk around. I wanted
to create the sense that you’re going
into an archive and you see this row of
shelves, then you wander along and
they become almost like a timeline
or a movie.
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JPJ: So the narrative of the Serpentine
Sackler Gallery’s layout, which is a quad
intersected with horizontal two powder
rooms, helped you in thinking about
this exhibition?
MG: Oh yes. It’s different from walking
into one open space where you navigate
across the void in a very unconscious
way. You get attracted by a certain work
and you wander towards it. There’s a
very individual pattern of movement.
A space like the Serpentine Sackler
Gallery allows you to choose, when
you enter, which way round it you’re
going to walk and there’s more of a
linear experience of the Gallery. The
shelving contrasts with the walls
and highlights this linearity in the
architecture. The shelves also became
a way to gather objects and to talk
about different people’s collections.
I’ll rearrange them as well, so it’s also
about creating something new out
of these combinations of objects and
creating a narrative.
HUO: Can you tell us a little bit about
how you came to this idea of designers’
collections and how you chose them?
MG: Well, it was related to a piece of
work that I’ve done called Collective
(2008). It’s made up of different sized
boxes attached to the base of a chair.
On these boxes I had little labels that
I’d made, and they were very personal
labels, about how I would organise
my life. Some of them are for objects
that I’d found in my house and I didn’t
know which category they belonged
to, like ‘short string, long wires’, which
was the title I’d initially thought of for
the exhibition. I looked at my collections
and then I thought, ‘Well, obviously
there are all these other people out
there who also have collections
and I’m curious to go and see what
they have.’
HUO: It’s so appropriate, given the
Serpentine’s embrace of pluralities,
that the traditional distinction between
art and design doesn’t really apply to
your work and as you told us from the
beginning, you’re both an artist and a
designer. It would be good to hear a little
bit about all the collaborations you’ve
had with visual artists. You work a lot,
for example, with your partner Francis
Upritchard, and you share a studio in
a very osmotic way, but you also did
a show with Kerstin Brätsch.
MG: For me, art has always been there,
from my early days of studying art. I’ve
done some interesting collaborations
where artists come to a point where, in
order to show their work, or to integrate
their work with a space, they need
functional design to deal with very
practical issues. That’s what I always
liked about collaborations with Francis;
or, for example, I’ve just collaborated
with Aurélien Froment in Vancouver,
where I made tables for his objects. The
two worlds can really work together
because they need each other. You
create an environment, you create a
space, you create an exhibition.
JPJ: You’ll also co-curate the shop at the
Serpentine Sackler. It’s very exciting,
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the idea that your exhibition is going to
extend from designing, to making and
then to the third aspect of design: selling.
MG: What I’m thinking for this shop is to
continue the idea of shelving from the
exhibition into the shop, because a shop
is basically a shelf where you display
things, it’s another form of archive.
At the gallery, for example, you’ve
commissioned Zaha Hadid to design a
specific shelving device for the shop.
HUO: This shop is a reflection of the
fact that you’re curating an exhibition
of design at the highest level, as well as
answering that desire for ownership:
that it will be possible for some, if not
everybody, to own a piece.
MG: This is something else that I’m
very interested in in my practice. I sell
design objects directly from my website:
stools and coasters and things. It’s
also somehow related to our earlier
conversation, where we talked about
industry, about big names in the design
world. What does it actually mean in
terms of economic viability for design?
Can you make a living from being a
designer? That’s something that’s not
really talked about outside the design
world: that there are a lot of designers
who have a very good reputation, whose
work is everywhere, but if you look at
the sales figures, it wouldn’t pay your
rent. That comes back to the importance
of making: when you suddenly realise
that you can get much more money
from making a commissioned table
than you’d get to design a table for a
company that’s going to be sold all over
the world.
JPJ: There’s something very interesting
about this, because there’s a difference
between what you’re describing and
my idea of design. I’m imagining this
wonderful thing that’s democratic, or
universally accessible, but what you’re
saying is that actually it’s not, because
the economy doesn’t support this idea
or reality.
MG: I really like to believe that we can
all buy in to the same idea, but I don’t
actually think that there is necessarily
such a democratic world out there, nor
that everyone should have the same kind
of design and we should all be able to
buy the same piece of furniture because
we can all afford it. There are different
tastes, there are different senses of how
important a piece of furniture is for you,
how long you want to hold on to it – and
that speaks to the issue of sustainability
that I mentioned in relation to in a state
of repair and 100 Chairs. A design classic
will keep its resale value, so you buy
expensive but you can still sell it again at
a good price. I find it difficult to say that
a chair should be £50 so that everyone
can buy one. I actually think a good
chair should cost what it needs to cost
to make a decent product, produced by
a decent factory, and for the designer
to be paid a decent royalty so that he or
she can actually live. And I think it’s then
that this piece will survive. It will live in
our society, it will be passed on. A lot
of objects are worth near to nothing;
they don’t go anywhere, they go
straight to the skip, straight to landfill.
So the designer is paid near to nothing.
21
27/02/2014 09:16
The industry is killing the factories,
the workers are paid nothing – it’s a
vicious circle. I think it’s more about
understanding what the real value is,
what the real price is that something has
to cost. And I think many people can still
afford this.
JPJ: What in your view makes a good
product or what defines good design?
MG: Good design for me is when there’s
a functionality that’s then challenged.
Function and comfort are not things
that always remain the same: fifty
years ago people had a different idea of
comfort from the one we have now, and
a different idea of usability as well. So
good design should combine function,
materiality, form and I think it should
also respond to behaviour a little bit:
what this object does in a social context,
how it changes our behaviour, or how it
helps our behaviour.
MG: Yes, there are a few. One of them
is an idea to work for a long time on
one project. As a designer, you work
on parallel projects all the time and you
never really have time to work on just
one project. So this one project is to find
a big, old tree that needs to be felled,
and to fell it myself, and then to use
every part of this tree – to design things
and make things out of it. It’s quite a
‘crafty’ project, but it could also turn out
to be something that actually becomes
an economy in itself. So everything is
used, from the roots to the leaves, and
even if you just make a barbecue with
the last bits of wood you have left, that’s
a good barbecue.
HUO: Have you got any projects that
have been too big or too small to be
realised, projects you didn’t dare to do,
utopian dreams?
22
27/02/2014 09:16
Biography
Martino Gamper (b. 1971, Merano, Italy) lives and works in London. Starting as an apprentice
with a furniture maker in Merano, Gamper went on to study sculpture under Michelangelo
Pistoletto at the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna. He completed a Masters in 2000 from the Royal
College of Art, London, where he studied under Ron Arad. Working across design and art venues,
Martino Gamper engages in a variety of projects from exhibition design, interior design, one-off
commissions and the design of mass-produced products for the cutting edge of the
international furniture industry.
Gamper has presented his works and projects internationally, selected exhibitions and
commissions include: ’Tu casa, mi casa’, The Modern Institute, Glasgow (2013); ‘Bench Years’,
London Design Festival commission, V&A Museum, London (2012); ʻGesamtkunsthandwerk’ (Karl
Fritsch, Martino Gamper and Francis Upritchard), Govett-Brewster Art Gallery, New Plymouth –
New Zealand (2011); Project for Café Charlottenborg, Kunsthal Charlottenborg, Copenhagen
(2011); ‘Bench to Bench’, public street furniture in East London in collaboration with LTGDC
(2011); ‘A 100 chairs in 100 Days’, 5 Cromwell Place, London (2007); ‘Wouldn't it be Nice...Wishful
thinking in Art & Designʼ, Centre dʼArt Contemporain, Genève (2007). Gamper was the recipient
of the Moroso Award for Contemporary Art in 2011, and the Brit Insurance Designs of the Year,
Furniture Award in 2008 for his project ‘A 100 Chairs in 100 days'.
Milano, February 2014
About la Rinascente
La Rinascente features a prestigious collection of stores, offering the best in
fashion, accessories, beauty, home, design and gourmet foods. It has 11
stores in Italy, located in the very heart of principal cities, and a renowned
department store in Copenhagen, Illum.
With more than one century of history, la Rinascente combines a rich
heritage with a cutting edge and avant-garde vocation, boasting a wide range
of designer brands, representing not only the best of Made-in-Italy but also
the most coveted brands from all over the world.
Everything at la Rinascente is designed to inspire and to amaze and is
constantly evolving to exceed the customer’s expectations, providing an
unique and extremely rewarding shopping experience.
La Rinascente is also the place in town “where things happen”, the hot spot
for exclusive events, celebrity appearances and designer launches.
For all of that it is definitely considered a one-stop must see department store
for the high-end shopper.
www.rinascente.it
For information and images please contact:
Letizia Novali
Events and Corporate Relations Manager
[email protected]
Ph + 39 02 467711

design is a state of mind

Transcription

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