Transforming a classic

Classics also play a prominent role in other areas

of today’s aesthetic mode of living. Karsten

Hintz, responsible for the shop at the Bauhaus

archive in Berlin, wrote about the commercial

links between this historical institution to every-

day life, in an essay for the book “Bauhaus” (ed.

Jeannine Fiedler und Peter Feierabend, Cologne

1999) there is no doubt that “our image of Bau-

haus is characterised by reproductions.” And that

furthermore: “the range of objects manufactured

is equally as pertinent for today’s aesthetics as

the changes which were made.” The most remark-

able example of this is Breuer’s tubular-steel

chairs, which in the 1920s “were originally

upholstered with material – and never with

leather.” The fabric could be brightly coloured,

like the painted framework, “these days this is

perhaps a little too tame for a classic.” And on

the quest for the supposed original Hintz adds:

“No Bauhaus product has enjoyed the fetishist

attention nor the cow-towing before an original

more than the Bauhaus lights. But even they do

not quite count as “the” original. It was the re-

design that first became a classic: the propor-

tions of all the components, which are so often

quoted today, were developed in 1980, when

Wagenfeld redesigned the lights. And even this

redesigning was later – for the benefit of both

the product and the buyer – further developed

and improved. Hintz reports that the steel

framed chairs produced by Bauhaus, which we

only know and accept in the chrome, or at best

nickel-plated versions, were offered in a cata-

logue in 1930 in 14 different colours, including

lemon yellow, pea green and purple. That was

cheaper back then, but not quite as durable. The

image of a classic: this emerges not least in the

mind of the beholder.

“In the 1960s, basic geometric shapes, primary

colours and abstractness,” writes design histo-

rian Gerda Breuer in her book “The invention of

Part II

CLASSIC AS A PROJECTION

by Thomas Edelmann

the modern classic” (Stuttgart, 2001), “belonged

to the new conventions of artistic avant-garde, in

which elements were arranged to produce an

autonomous design language.” With this she

describes the spirit of an era which, in its refer-

ence to it, has significantly shaped our percep-

tion of the avant-garde of the 1920s.

In the late 1970s, literary design arrived on the

scene, going hand-in-hand with art to begin

with. Rolf Fehlbaum, as well as Alberto Alessi,

began with the production of multiples, of

unlimited edition objects, before launching

paternal enterprises where they tried collabora-

tions with different prominent designers. In con-

necting design less to immediate turnover

targets than with the less direct, but by no means

less effectual strategies of the art market,

Fehlbaum began in the same way as Alessi –

each in a specific way in their own enterprises.

As a result, – for example, in the Vitra Edition –

collectors’ items and unique specimens emerged,

offering insiders even more than just radiating

classics. A field of tension between art and the

serial product could therefore develop above all

because designers now once again referred – as

their forefathers had done in the 1920s – to the

prestige and importance of their designs in

society. Entrepreneurs and designers regarded

each other as neo-avant-gardists who achieved

an increase in value not only in commercial

terms, but culturally as well. Thus one of the first

constructions on the new production-campus at

Weil am Rhein was the Vitra Design Museum

by Frank Gehry. The “Personalities” advertising

campaign, with public f igures from the f ilm,

music, theatre and art industries, contributed as

much to the furniture manufacturer’s fame as the

“Miniature Collection”, which copied other manu-

facturers’ as well as in-house furniture classics to

a scale of 1:6, and with it propagated the notion

of furniture collecting in miniature. —

I classici giocano un ruolo di rilievo anche in

altri settori dell’estetizzazione della nostra vita

pratica. Karsten Hintz, responsabile dello shop

del Bauhaus Archiv di Berlino, quindi del lega-

me commerciale di questo istituto storico

all’epoca presente, in un contributo alla pubbli-

cazione “Bauhaus” (a cura di Jeannine Fiedler e

Peter Feierabend, Colonia 1999), scrive in modo

inequivocabile “la nostra immagine del Bau-

haus è fortemente influenzata dalle imitazioni”.

E ancora: “La scelta degli oggetti prodotti ha a

che fare con la nostra estetica attuale, esatta-

mente come le variazioni apportate.” Il caso più

eclatante sono le sedie in acciaio tubolare di

Breuer che, negli anni Venti, “originariamente

erano rivestite in stoffa – e non in pelle”. Essa

poteva essere molto colorata come il telaio lac-

cato; “oggi forse troppo modesta e vivace per un

classico”. E sulla ricerca del presunto originale,

Hintz prosegue: “Nessun prodotto del Bauhaus è

più esposto delle luci al feticismo e alla genu-

flessione all’originale. Ma non esiste “l’Origi-

nale”. Ciò che è diventato un classico è il re-

design: la proporzione di tutti i componenti,

oggi molto citata, è stata sviluppata nel 1980,

quando Wagenfeld rielaborò la lampada.” E la

stessa rielaborazione è poi stata nuovamente

modificata e migliorata – per il bene del pro-

dotto e dei suoi acquirenti. Hintz riferisce che le

sedie in acciaio tubolare del Bauhaus, che noi

oggi conosciamo e accettiamo solo cromate, nel

migliore dei casi nichelate, erano state proposte

in un catalogo del 1930 in 14 tonalità, tra cui

giallo limone, verde pisello e violetto. All’epoca

questa scelta era più economica, ma anche meno

duratura. L’immagine del classico nasce, non da

ultimo, nella testa dell’osservatore.

“Forme di base geometriche, colori primari e inu-

tilità”, scrive la storica del design Gerda Breuer

nel suo testo “Die Erfindung des Modernen

Klassikers” (Stoccarda, 2001), “rientravano tra

37