SOFT POWER

Felix Burrichter: What does the Landi chair represent to you?

Soft Baroque: For us, the Landi is both a Swiss and a Modernist icon. And it’s a very attractive chair. I don’t think I’d want a Mies Van der Rohe Barcelona chair in my house, but I’d certainly have a Landi!

Is it because, unlike the Barcelona chair, the Landi has not become a cliché?

Yes, at any rate it hasn’t outside of Switzerland. And people don’t make low-cost copies of it, which is also because of the material — aluminum frames are difficult to bend without cracking, and the material is sensitive to handle in the production process. Formally, I think it’s more pleasing than some of the other early Modernist pieces, because it’s more economical and utilitarian. At the same time, the 91 holes are the ideal combination of Pop and performance, somewhere between polka dots and speed holes.It’s also historically interesting. It was produced just before the outbreak of World War II, at a time when Switzerland was surrounded by fascist governments. But within the country, there was still an ethos of freedom and independence.

What made you want to make this chair in wood?

The design of the Landi has survived decades of changes in tastes and trends, which made it challenging for us to respond to. When we examined its history, we realized that it wasn’t actually produced until after the war, due to an aluminum shortage. During and immediately after the war, there was a return to traditional furniture-making — in Britain, for instance, there was a significant movement toward creating simpler furniture from wood, and Switzerland experienced a similar trend. Thus, making the Landi out of wood reflects the era in which it was created. It’s also a conceptual response to how Modernist ideals have evolved over time and the problems they have caused. For example, in Modernist buildings, the initial ethos was very egalitarian, focusing on experimental living spaces and trying to break away from traditional room archetypes. These ideals have been corrupted over time in favor of capitalist speculation. Our response was essentially a simple wooden chair — an inflated, timber version of the Landi. It’s not traditional in the sense of a classically constructed Swiss chair, nor is it conservative in looks. I think it’s more of a modern piece that references the Landi shape while also drawing from mid-century modern wood typologies rather than the early Modernism from which the Landi originated. By merging these two movements, it also has a cartoonish quality, like a blown-up inflatable toy, but made out of precious European walnut.

Why European walnut?

We wanted to use a local wood. We originally thought about using pine, but we liked the richer colors of walnut, which fit aesthetically with the very sculpted seat, back, and arms. Pine would have been a little bit lighter and aesthetically cleaner, but we wanted it to be richer and kind of masculine.

You shared your preliminary research with me, which comprised over 20 ways of transforming, and sometimes corrupting, the Landi, with pros and cons listed for each one. Can you talk about some of those ideas?

Some of them were far more aggressive and confrontational, or more chaotic and critical, or they had more of a Pop aesthetic. For example, we were thinking of covering the chair in furniture attachments you can buy online — a massage pillow, a footrest, Crocs Jibbitz, circular green-screen headrests, or iPhone and beverage holders. It was a commentary on the endless Amazon gadget world we live in. We also thought about welding several chairs together to create monster Landis, or merging one with a white-plastic Monobloc chair.

Which version was the most shocking?

There was one that turned the Landi into a La-Z-Boy armchair. That felt almost sacrilegious.

Were there any alternative designs you especially liked?

Saša really liked the one where we replaced the holes in the Landi with little hearts — it was a reference to the classic Swiss Alpine chair. But I think the wooden design we went with in the end had just the right mix of beauty and irony: a sumptuous, valuable piece with intrinsic comfort, super-sized for the modern human.

How do you hope people will react when they see your Landi?

I think the initial aesthetic response will be positive, because it’s a very pleasing chair to look at. The curves are beautifully sculpted, like a Hans Wegner chair from the 1950s. It has an elegant aerodynamic quality, with its softly carved holes. Everything’s slightly fattened up for capitalist slaughter. [Laughs.] But then people might feel conflicted — “Why did they do that to this iconic, very rational chair?” In that moment of questioning, maybe they’ll understand the conceptual angle we’re trying to address. So I hope the chair will create these mini-conflicts, which I think is a bit of a Soft Baroque trademark — playing with assumptions about materials and taste.