My husband married me knowing that aside from necessities and whatnot, if I ever had the expendable cash flow, the two pieces that I desire to own in my lifetime are...
Here is the design story courtesy of
www.hermanmiller.com:
The first Eames lounge chair and ottoman was made as a gift for Billy Wilder, the director of "Some Like It Hot," "Irma La Douce," and "Sunset Blvd." The heritage of the chair goes back to the molded plywood chairs pioneered by the Eameses in the 1940s. Charles Eames said his goal for the chair was that it be "a special refuge from the strains of modern living."
The first lounge chair and ottoman produced by Herman Miller, in 1956, made its public debut on Arlene Francis's Home show, a predecessor of the Today show. Commenting on the unique design, Charles Eames told Francis, "We've never designed for a fashion, and the Herman Miller furniture company has never, ever requested that we do pieces for a market." During the interview, a short film was shown in which a man--Charles described him as "a typical Herman Miller employee"--assembled and disassembled the lounge chair, showing how simple the design was.
Francis ended the segment by quoting something she said she had read about Charles and Ray: "The Eameses' desire to move freely in a world of enormous and unlimited possibilities is combined with a very accurate sense of discrimination and taste. It's an ability to select among the unlimited possibilities and return considerable richness to the world."
The second piece is an
Isamu Noguchi Table ($1350 from
DWR).
Again, here is the design story courtesy of
www.hermanmiller.com:
Anyone can make a three-legged table. That challenge, thrown down to Japanese-American sculptor Isamu Noguchi by a designer he believed had "borrowed" an idea of his, was what led to the design of his classic table.
Noguchi tells the story in his autobiography. "My first industrial design was, I suppose, some Italian sugar cake molds that I did when I was 20. Then there was 'Measured Time', a clock, and in 1937 the 'Radio Nurse.'"
Manufactured by Zenith in 1937, the Radio Nurse was a wireless intercom introduced as a baby monitor in response to the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby. During World War II, and after the kidnapping furor had died down, most of these pieces were thrown away—because of the Japanese name inscribed on them. A rare surviving example of this beautiful piece was featured on The Antiques Roadshow.
"I went to Hawaii in 1939 to do an advertisement (with Georgia O'Keefe). As a result of this, I had met (T.H.) Robsjohn-Gibbings, the furniture designer, who had asked me to do a coffee table for him," Noguchi remembered. "I designed a small model in plastic and heard no further before I went west."
By "went west" Noguchi was referring to his internment, as a Japanese-American, in the Poston, Arizona, concentration camp during World War II. During his time there, Noguchi said he was surprised to see a variation of the small plastic model table he had done for Robsjohn-Gibbings published as an advertisement for the English designer.
"When, on my return, I remonstrated, he said anybody could make a three-legged table," said Noguchi. "In revenge, I made my own variant of my own table."
The "variant" that Noguchi designed was used to illustrate an article, written by Herman Miller designer George Nelson, called "How to Make a Table." The table in the illustration became his famous "coffee table," and it's as appealing today as it was then.
The table reflects Noguchi's belief that "everything is sculpture. Any material, any idea without hindrance born into space I consider sculpture."
Noguchi believed the sculptor's task was to shape space, to give it order and meaning, and that art should "disappear," or be as one with its surroundings. Unwilling and unable to be pigeonholed, he created works that could be as abstract as Henri Moore's and as realistic as Leonardo's. He used any medium he could get his hands on: stone, metal, wood, clay, bone, paper, or a mixture of any or all—carving, casting, cutting, pounding, chiseling, or dynamiting away as each form took shape.
"To limit yourself to a particular style may make you an expert of that particular viewpoint or school, but I do not wish to belong to any school," he said. "I am always learning, always discovering."
There they are, together, in all of their glory.
These are two pieces that I WILL own one day. I've been coveting them since I started self-learning what good interior design was back when I was 13. Ahhh desire. Anyone want to buy them for me? I'd love you forever...
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