Branzi's imaginative lighthearted, imaginative fixtures still
comform to a more serious ideology.
by Laurie Attias
Architect-theorist-historian-curator Andrea Branzi has always been
a rebel, from the ideological vision he conceived as the founder
of Archizoom to the garish, plastic-laminate kitsch he popularized
as a member of Memphis. His recent series of light fixtures--while
less irreverent than, say, Memphis-group projects like the marble-topped
dresser lined with cheap, bright-colored lightbulbs--is nonetheless
surprising and subversive.
Whimsical wireless lamps that run on batteries, these lights have
little in common with the elegant understatement of the Italian
desk and table lamps so popular a decade ago. In some, Branzi
creates unexpected juxtapositions of the sophisticated and humble,
like the plain metal bucket that contains a delicate Chinese-paper
lantern, or the softly glowing orbs of blown Murano glass that
hang like stalactites from a bamboo pole.
Others play off the idea of domestic comfort by appropriating
the shapes of banal household objects, most strikingly in witty,
freestanding lamps shaped like everyday cookware that probe the
affinity between heat and light. Branzi's eccentric fixtures resemble
cumbersome cast-iron pots you'd shove to the back of a cabinet.
Holding rice-paper lamp shades that look like piles of mashed
potatoes or lopsided soufflés, these black-metal frying pans and
casseroles might also teasingly allude to notions of bad taste.
Branzi's lighthearted, imaginative fixtures still conform to a
more serious ideology: the absence of wires, cables, and cords
acts as a metaphor for contemporary life, which the Florence-born,
Milan-based designer describes as unconstrained, fluid, and free.
"For me, the process of lightening and re-leasing corresponds
to our current social condition, a condition in which ties to
former ideologies have disappeared, in which we all become free,
unburdened, 'wireless,' " he explains. "But we don't know what
to do with this freedom." |
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