Afra Scarpa
Montebelluna, Italy
1937
Tobia Scarpa
Venice, Italy
1935
Jacques Adnet
Chatillion-Coligny, France
1900—1984
Martino Gamper
Merano, Italy
1971
Ugo La Pietra
Bussi sul Tirino, Italy
1938
Luigi Caccia Dominioni
Milan, Italy
1913
Dan Friedman
Cleveland, USA
1945—1995
Montebelluna, Italy
1937
Tobia Scarpa
Venice, Italy
1935
Jacques Adnet
Chatillion-Coligny, France
1900—1984
Martino Gamper
Merano, Italy
1971
Ugo La Pietra
Bussi sul Tirino, Italy
1938
Luigi Caccia Dominioni
Milan, Italy
1913
Dan Friedman
Cleveland, USA
1945—1995
François-Xavier Lalanne
Agen, France
1927—2008
Claude Lalanne
Paris, France
1924
Donald Judd
Excelsior Springs, USA
1928—1994
Alan Buchsbaum
Savannah, USA
1936—1987
T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbings
London, England
1905—1976
Shiro Kuramata
Tokyo, Japan
1934—1991
Gae Aulenti
Palazzolo dello Stella, Italy
1927—2012
Robert Mallet-Stevens
Paris, France
1886—1945
Agen, France
1927—2008
Claude Lalanne
Paris, France
1924
Donald Judd
Excelsior Springs, USA
1928—1994
Alan Buchsbaum
Savannah, USA
1936—1987
T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbings
London, England
1905—1976
Shiro Kuramata
Tokyo, Japan
1934—1991
Gae Aulenti
Palazzolo dello Stella, Italy
1927—2012
Robert Mallet-Stevens
Paris, France
1886—1945
Joy of Design
They are lost, for whom the pursuit of beauty is folly. For beauty is not peripheral, it is the primordial, organic goad. It is the non-death! That which is classed, “beautiful” may appear variable outside personal conditions, but reverse the path of any undertaking, of the most banal activity in the most basic mind, and one will find at the trail’s terminus not reason, not actual knowing, but a radiant Apollo, a lambent Aphrodite or of course an effulgent hermaphrodite. It should be argued that pushing every seeking vine and behind the striving, mushrooming canopy of every tree is a green muse. Thus beauty in human creation is not really creation, it is expressing emergence whilst acknowledging transience. Nothing is ever achieved it is only witnessed. A great designer describes they do not create.
Joyful, self-aware ephemerality is the height of any art.
Texts by AQQ