Twitter users responded swiftly, coughing up egregious examples of remixed modern icons, from an Eames LCW in a very country-cabin green stain to Le Corbusier’s cushy LC2, revamped by Cassina in rich upholstered hues with acidic powder-coated colors on the frame. Le Corbusier never visited 1980s Miami!
I grew up with my grandparents’ set of Wishbones, and their identity is deeply imprinted on my mind. The beauty of the design is its sensual shape and unassuming palette. The papercord seats blend into the beech or oak frames, which would in turn blend into a hardwood floor if not for the assertive curves. Their sculptural strength is stealth. Lacquering them makes them look pop, synthetic, even Starck.
Maybe I should be happy about these “refreshed” classics, since we hardly need more chairs. Or rather, we don’t need new chairs to solve the same old problems. Instead of more chair designers working in the style of Charles and Ray Eames, we need them working in the Eameses’ mode, narrowing down hundreds of options to the best solution.
There are few things that would have been more horrifying to the Eameses than the suggestion that new colors can solve a design problem. That’s not what modernism was about. Modernism sought the ideal marriage of material innovation and minimal design moves to make a place to sit. That’s why the gaskets and fasteners are exposed on the back of the LCW, and Wegner managed with no nails at all. When you color the Wishbone you lose sight of those fitted connections and camouflage its true intent—elegant material honesty. Once painted, the whole chair might as well be molded in one piece of plastic.
The smarter path is to do as Wegner himself did, experimenting with deeper nostalgia. For example, Patricia Urquiola’s new Comback chair for Kartell slims the profile and reproduces the Windsor in a thermoplastic technopolymer. History offers a much larger playground than the 70-plus years of modernism. Our eyes haven’t been exhausted by more venerable forms the way endless knock-offs and reappearances of mid-century icons have soured us on bentwood, pedestals, and egg shapes.
New colors are a marketing ploy that disrespects a designer’s legacy. Leave the classics alone, and celebrate them for what they are. The future of chairs may lie in the past, but not in the past we’ve repainted.
Alexandra Lange is a critic, journalist and architectural historian based in Brooklyn. She has taught architecture criticism in the Design Criticism Program at the School of Visual Arts and the Urban Design & Architecture Studies Program at New York University. She is a Loeb Fellow at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design for academic year 2013-2014. She is the author of Writing About Architecture: Mastering the Language of Buildings and Cities (Princeton Architectural Press, 2012), a primer on how to read and write architecture criticism, as well as the e-book The Dot-Com City: Silicon Valley Urbanism (Strelka Press, 2012), which considers the message of the physical spaces of Facebook, Google, and Apple. She has long been interested in the creation of domestic life, a theme running through Design Research: The Store that Brought Modern Living to American Homes (Chronicle Books, 2010), which she co-authored with Jane Thompson, as well as her contributions to Formica Forever (Metropolis Books, 2013) and Eero Saarinen: Shaping the Future (Yale University Press, 2006).
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