Skandium newsprint #2

NEWSPRINT

#2

year’s go by

Editor & Art Director Christina Schmidt, Layout Jessica Jones

Welcome to the second issue of our Skandium magazine. I can’t believe we’ve already made it through the first and are now offering the second issue, Autumn 2014.

This has not come about because I have been a lifelong magazine enthusiast but because we like to share our stories.

Magazines tend to be fast-paced, punchy and prescriptive. We like to stop for a while and contemplate on what we are doing. We are not here to change the world, but rather to reflect what drives us to do what we do.

When we set out to present the Skandium idea to the British public, opening the first store in September 1999, we wanted to share our sensibility in aesthetics and our way of life - easy, uncomplicated, lasting quality, offering objects which through time would become as trusted and appreciated as old friends.

It is odd, thinking back to 1998 when it all began, with the discovery of a cooking pot in a department store in a small town in Finland. The pot was not just any old pot, it was ‘the pot’, designed by the typographer and designer Björn Dahlström for the brand new Hackman Tools.

Back on our summer island that evening, we where sitting by the waterside trying to imagine what to do with this pot, what kind of story to tell. We chose the story of the modernists and how it has so clearly shaped the lives of people throughout time, both visually and conceptually, setting the tone for future generation, with values, ideals and dreams of a better life and how this was translated in the Scandinavian market. Back in London, we started Skandium, which we boldly called ‘the United Nations of Scandinavian design’.

We all love dreaming but have to get on with reality. Making everyday life as pleasant as possible is a good foot forward and I am glad, we are able to do so. During the first 15 years, we have had so much support in pursuing our mission of helping to nurture good living standards.

We continue to promote and sell Scandinavian modernist and contemporary design and are continually widening our own Skandium production portfolio with pieces that have been manufactured by skilled craftsmen. They are developed and produced to serve people well, from one generation to the next.

Greetings from Christina Schmidt, Co-founder of Skandium.

TWO

NELSON + CATE Saville is my birthplace from where I started in life. My name is Nelson Ruiz-Acal. My father a painter, I remember, was constantly on the move, and so am I, it must be the blood. I lived in a lively household with my grandparents and three aunts, all dreamers and doers. Growing up, I dreamt about becoming both a pilot and an architect.

I was raised in a household formed by aeronautical engineers, pilots and artists. Diverse and exhilarating, both sides driven by strong convictions, and a strong desire to simply be the best in the world at their particular profession. Finally, and this might be down to the process of adaptation, I became an industrial designer.

I studied industrial design in Madrid. During the 4 years at university I learned two things, the basic tools to become a designer and the basic tools to become a young adult. Here, during my last year I met Cate the cute Swedish girl who barely spoke to anyone, especially not me, probably because of my strong southern accent.

Cate and I finally worked together on each of our separate thesis exam. We helped one another in areas where we complemented each other, it worked dandy. In a way, this was the start of our joint studio.

Once university was done, we spent the summer in Sweden, for me it was the first visit to the country. I fell head over heals in love with the place, the people, culture. It was so far away from what I was used to, both visually and culturally different from my own perceptions and upbringing. I wanted to dig deeper into this chilly land with its much cooler colour scheme and reference points, so I asked Cate to move permanently to Sweden and start a studio. I was walking on thin ice as it was very challenging with little orientation to start with but it was also exhilarating, throwing oneself into unknown territory, a rich time for learning, developing and establishing a strong connection to self as well as forming new relationships. After seven years in Sweden we decided to get moving, to search for new experiences, new challenges, to learn from a multicultural metropolis where one meets people from all around the globe and voilà, to London we came. London is just perfect, a place between Sweden and Spain and the whole world at ones doorstep.

We have two cats, which move with us wherever we go. Katten (the cat) was a present I gave to Cate while still in Madrid ten years ago. Since then she’s been with us from Spain to Sweden and now London, so she´s a well travelled cat. Pinky, our second cat, is Katten’s daughter, half Spanish half Norwegian, very international.

We have been so lucky finding both a flat and great studio space in South London. Both are originally shop units from the early 20th century. It is said they where, when still shops, frequented by Charlie Chaplin… so there you go! While we were living in Sweden we used to live in what is called a ‘sommarstuga’, a summerhouse, situated by a lake. We renovated the cottage during wintertime, something I will not forget as we had to knuckle down rather heavily. We did it all by ourselves, it took a whole year and now we have a super duper holiday home that gives us the opportunity to be on our own, away from bustling cities and big Spanish family unions.

We love visiting ‘Feria de Abril’ in Seville. This festival normally is right after the Salone del Mobile in April every year. We love being jet setters - first Milan, flash and fabulous, and then hot and gorgeous Seville. Each just as invigorating and inspiring as the other.

I really like to make things with my hands, drawing, making model samples, even sewing (something I learned during the long winters in Sweden and enjoy more and more) and I also still like airplanes and everything that is related to them. One needs to keep dreaming.

CATE + NELSON Cate Högdahl is my name. I grew up in Strängnäs, a small idyllic town with a history dating back to the Viking era, just outside Stockholm in a big house, which my family shared with my aunt, uncle and cousins, something slightly unusual in Sweden where extended families do not tend to live together like in the south of Europe. My family stems from the north of Finland, where I spent many of my holidays. Light endless summers and long, mysterious winters have a strong impact on anyone and I feel privileged to have had both. For me, winters were not cold and dark but full of snow and outdoor games, Northern lights and mystery and the summers were long, warm and light like an angel’s kiss on your cheek, with bicycle rides to the lakes and through the woods and along endless country roads. I come from a big, family where I am the oldest of 5 siblings. I have lost count of my cousins and family all over the world I Finland, Sweden, Canada, Africa and Australia. It keeps one busy and interested in more than ones hometown parameters. The world is my oyster and I love every moment of it!

I was never bored as a child, growing up with so much family around me I have always appreciated my own space. Being quite a dreamer I lost myself in drawing princesses, horses and interior layouts, shut out the world, creating my own. I dreamt of becoming an architect, interior designer, clothes designer and have always sewn and made my own clothes and pieces of furniture, some more successful than others.

I moved to London the day after graduating from high school. I was 18 and had never been to London before. I stayed for a few years and then moved to Madrid to study Industrial design. I didn’t want to study in Sweden, because I wanted to see things from another viewpoint, not resting on what I was used to from home. To get away from your references also helps to bring you closer to them. It was not easy in a new language environment but we all know some Spanish, right? So one gets on with it.

The last year at university my Spanish was good enough to even get along with Nelson’s southern accent, so we joined up to do the thesis project together. Even though they were two separate projects and we have two very different personalities, our successful working relationship is because we complement each as we have similar visions.

After university Nelson and I moved to Sweden where we had our first real project together, the renovation of the summer cottage in freezing winter with no indoor bathroom. It was a tough challenge on every level but I am grateful for the experience. We learned so much, not only about materials, architecture and practicalities, but also about ourselves, and how to work together under difficult circumstances. We survived it all and lived there for 7 years until we were ready for another challenge.

Then came London. We love travelling and meeting new people so London makes the perfect base both professionally and privately. I love our home here just behind the Imperial War museum, with a small, quiet courtyard for our cats and for us to escape from all the sounds the big city makes. We love having friends over for barbecue and our studio is just across the road.

Amidst all the travel and work, not much has changed, I still enjoy the same things as when I was a child, still appreciating my own time losing myself in dreams, in the world of my sketch book, as well as meeting friends and new people, taking bike rides or strolling through flea markets, reading books or researching. Life is good!

For Skandium, we designed a teapot. It needed to be something simple and commercial. We searched and searched, wanting something different, and eventually ‘Birdy’ was born. We are very pleased with the result and hope that people will love the different take on it just as much as we do.

Birdie Teapot for Skadnium

ALFREDO ALFREDO E X C L U S I V E LY AT

Celebrating a Master - 100 years Hans J. Wegner 1914 - 2007

Hans J. Wegner was born in 1914 in Tønder, Denmark. The son of a shoemaker, he began work at the age of 17 as an apprentice to carpenter H. F. Stahlberg.

At the age of 20 he moved to Copenhagen to study at the institution now known as The Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, School of Design but back then it went by the more modest title of The Artisan College. Here he studied from 1936 -1938 and later became a tutor, teaching for seven years at the institution. He then furthered his studies and became a qualified architect. In 1940 Wegner was hired as an assistant to Arne Jacobsen, who together with Erik Møller, worked on the Aarhus town hall. It was also in 1940 that Wegner began to work with master carpenter Johannes Hansen, a man who played a significant role in bringing modern design to the Danish public. The then Copenhagen Industrial Art Museum (now Design Museum Denmark) purchased the first Wegner chair already in 1942.

With a background as a skilled cabinetmaker, Hans Wegner had a fondness for working with wood and had a special talent for using the characteristics of the material to create surprising, sculptural lines. The Danish word for design is ‘formgivning’, which translated literally means ‘giving shape’. Looking at Wegner’s furniture, one understands the true meaning of the expression.

Much of his early work consisted of ‘stripping old chairs of their outer style and letting them appear in their pure construction’.

Wegner opened his own design studio in 1943. By 1944 he had already designed his ‘China Chair’, inspired by the Chinese Emperor’s thrones. In 1960 Wegner’s name became internationally known when John F. Kennedy was interviewed in ‘The Chair’, named as such after the interview against Nixon in the now famous presidential debate battle. This chair started an international surge for Wegner’s furniture, and is still in production through PP Møbler.

Despite ‘The Chair’ being dubbed ‘the most beautiful chair in the world’ by Interiors Magazine in 1950, Wegner still worked to outdo it with new designs. For example, his dramatically different and adventurous Flag Halyard chair was inspired by a trip to the beach, during which he traced its outline in the sand, and voilà, we have an eccentric masterpiece.

A chair is regarded as the epitome of a designer’s portfolio. Wegner designed over 500 chairs throughout his lifetime for a number of different companies. One of Wegner’s most iconic chairs is the Wishbone Chair, designed in 1949, which Carl Hansen & Søn have manufactured since 1950 and still produce today to great success. Wegner’s designs are timeless classics and one of the most popular easy chairs to date is the incredibly comfortable CH25, again produced through Carl Hansen and Søn.

Carl Hansen and Søn have also taken up the production of what must be the world’s most stylish desk. The stripped down design and meticulous execution is an homage to quality in every detail and a praise to purity in form and execution. Furniture simply does not get better than this.

A timeless masterpiece to be admired and the perfect example of how a pleasing form and perfect production stands out, leading the way for generations to come.

Wegner’s love of timber formed the basis of his work, which although modern, lacked the cold functionalism of the modernist school. Wegner believed that functionalism on its own was not enough, each piece needed to speak visually and ergonomically. His work displays a pared-down purity that comes from the use of beautiful materials and simple joinery. For him, the Danish style was “a continual process of purification”. His designs were as fine as possible, without compromising their structural strength.

Wegner was one of the most influential forces behind the Danish modern movement, inspiring new ways to furnish homes and buildings in the 1950s and 60s. His designs never failed; they’re still relevant today and will undoubtedly continue to stand the test of time. His sense for detail and ergonomic accuracy is a source of constant admiration.

Wegner has received a number of prizes and recognitions. Amongst other things, he is an honorary member of The Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts and has received an honorary doctorate from the Royal College of Art in London. He was also the first ever recipient of the Lunning Prize and received the 8th International Design Award in Osaka, Japan. His works are exhibited at major international museums including MoMA in New York and Die Neue Sammlung in Munich.

Wegner’s work was the product of the Danish Furniture School - while also representing a break from it because of his free, artistic mode of expression. Founded by Professor Kaare Klint in the 1920s, the Danish Furniture School set out to build on traditions. Historic furniture from different cultures and eras, was studied, refined, and adapted to contemporary needs. A hallmark of Danish design is the desire to perfect the very best work found in other cultures and eras. The history of Danish design is like the history of Danish politics – defined not by revolution, but by evolution. This pragmatic, humanistic and democratic thinking is seen throughout every aspect of Danish society, and it is in this context that the characteristically clean lines of Danish products should be understood.

For Wegner, designing furniture was a form of creative play. “We must take care,” he once said, “that everything doesn’t get so dreadfully serious. We must play, but play seriously.”

This play took place not just on the drafting board but also - and most importantly - in the workshop. Wegner was an expert craftsman and produced nearly all his own prototypes, revealing how a hands-on approach to physical materials is deeply important in any field of design. His playfulness was most visible in his later designs, like the Ox Chair, which came with its own pair of horns.

“The chair does not exist,” a philosophical Wegner once said, channeling Plato’s musings on the ideal “form of chair” versus the imperfect “imitations” upon which we all sit. “The good chair is a task one is never completely done with.”

Many famous contemporary designers such as Jasper Morrison, Naoto Fukasawa, Tadeo Ando, and Konstantin Grcic, all cite Wegner for inspiration. His designs are still strikingly relevant and coveted after decades. It looks like the world won’t be done with Wegner’s chairs anytime soon.

Hans J. Wegner died in Denmark in January 2007 at the age of 92. His contributions to Danish design are as follows: a master carpenter first and a designer second, perfectly finished joints and exquisite forms. He had deep respect for the wood and its character and an everlasting curiosity for good material. He gave modernism an organic, natural softness. Hans Wegner is considered ‘the master chair maker’, designing more than 500 chairs during his lifetime, something he has never been surpassed in.

By Christina Schmidt

The Chair

The Art of Salmon Smoking

My mother was a primary school teacher, which meant that the family had plenty of opportunities for frequent holidays. At every school break we would pack our bags and she would drag all her four children onto a plane set for Kirkenes, a town at the very tip of Norway, some 3000 km away from our home in Stavanger. Air travel always left us children slightly discombobulated but entertained, there was much back and forth and endless counting of bags, my mother negotiating rates at desks and with pursers, and finally the fresh, hot buns served in-flight - all truly great and unforgettable memories.

My mother had made up her mind that even if it was a great ordeal, we should all be introduced to the Arctic lifestyle of her childhood, something she made available regularly. Consequently, all my childhood holidays were spent in the Arctic; spring, summer, autumn, winter… all in this vast and remote landmass laying in solitude.

Every time we arrived in Kirkenes we were greeted and hugged by Leif and Bergliot Lydersen, our grandparents.

Their home, where my mother grew up, is where I spent the happiest days of my childhood, and it’s where I developed an interest in food and experienced the great freedom of spending time exploring nature. We still have that house to return to and, like a family photo, it fades over time but always brings us back to our childhood whenever we visit.

It is a great place to have in my life, for which I am truly grateful.

Naturally my first cod was caught in Kirkenes and trout, salmon and haddock followed. And it was here, at the age of four, I filleted my first fish. It was here that I ventured out with my siblings to pick the “gold of the Arctic”, the famously, tasty cloudberries. These small gifts of nature grow in the marshes of the Arctic tundra. Walking across the marshes filled with berries, their light colour against the dark moss, it blinds your eyes. Somehow they make your breath heavy and your heart pound. Everyone has their secret marshland, not to be shared with anyone else. Picking cloudberries is a sport in the north of Norway and, like most sports, it always ends with a winner and a loser.

The huge amount of cod and haddock we children brought home during the course of summer were swiftly made into delicious meals by my grandmother, my mother and my aunt. Like magic, they would turn the kitchen into a modern production plant that would incite the admiration of any factory engineer or process technician. They would churn out fishcakes, make fillets to fill the pantry freezer, poach cod and make Skrei Mølje (a very traditional dish consisting of cod liver and roe from the skrei). We children were always included in these production lines. I especially loved these activities and quickly scaled the kitchen hierarchy. Soon I was flipping fish cakes like a French crêpe master.

We often went berry picking as a family. Berries ripen very fast in summer because of the 24 hours of daylight the Arctic is blessed with. The cloudberries, blueberries, and lingonberries have such strong colours and taste; it’s something that needs to be experienced to be understood. These trips were full day outings. Sometimes whole weekends were spent away from the house, sleeping in tents on the tundra, making campfires in the evening. On such weekends, searching for the ‘gold of the forest,’ could produce ten, twenty liter buckets filled with precious berries which would be loaded into my grandfather’s camper and taken back to base where a new production plant would be set up to separate berries from forest debris using large meshed trays.

In Kirkenes I used to eat my grandfather’s salmon prepared on my mother’s home baked bread after fishing sessions with my father, some 100 miles away out on the tundra. I remember chewing these delights while watching the midnight sun come up - moments I will treasure all my life. This very memory is what inspired me to recreate my grandfather’s salmon in London 30 years later.

I liked school very much until I started college. Unfortunately I ended up on the wrong course and suffered greatly, keeping my interest up became a chore. During college I took a summer job managing a campsite café and small restaurant in the Norwegian mountains. Here I found space away from my frustrations. I always liked varied work, such as when it came down to dishing up a meal for a whole busload of Swedish tourists wanting hotdogs, when the special of the day prepared was meatballs. Such challenges were a mere walk in the park for me. I would run up to the local gas station and get a pile of hotdogs, 15 minutes later one would find 40 or so pensioners smiling with their hotdogs securely in hand. To see these triumphs gave me much enjoyment… the more of them the better. It came naturally to me to please people.

When I returned home from my second summer as a mini CEO, my parents had conspired and bought me a ticket for a long plane ride to the other side of the world, destination USA. The arrangement was for me to stay with friends of my father in ‘Little Norway’, Iowa. As my college results were far from improving, my parents were desperately seeking a different strategy. Sending me into exile was their best idea. Luckily, I ‘m a good sport. I packed my bags and rose to the challenge.

My year in ‘Little Norway’ made me grow up faster than anything else I had experienced before. It was tough to be alone on the other side of the world at 17. I found some refuge in this new land in making ceramics with Mrs. Lubett, an incredibly kind, old, fat woman who would never leave her office chair. She would roll herself backwards on this chair from the classroom, all the way down the corridor to the teachers’ quarters, using her feet as paddles to gain speed. We enjoyed watching this very intriguing method of transportation with envy in our faces. Mrs. Lubett taught me how to handle the clay to make pottery and gave me an interest for aesthetics; a seed was planted and my love for art and design was born. I embraced the artistic side in me even further by joining the choir and the college theater group.

The year consisted of indulging myself in creative endeavors during the day, and, as soon as I could return to my host family on their farm, I would put on the overall and wellingtons to farm the fields and feed the cattle. I loved it. I was driving massive combine harvesters, tractors and trailers, I rescued calves that were stuck in the mud, anything and everything that was needed, I would do it. I loved it so much so that I was offered a full time position as a farm manager. If my immigration application for the US had gone through, I would probably by now be a full-blooded cowboy by now, but fate decided differently. I am grateful for the lessons I learned on the farm; ‘Do a job, do it well. Do it once, not twice!’ It shaped me and taught me much about the value of good work.

Back in Oslo, I had many short job stints, including computer salesman, marketing man and explorer, sailing the oceans on a floating veranda strapped onto oil barrels and drilling for oil in the North Sea. I made headlines as an importer of an ice cream containing alcohol to a conservative Norway, which ended with a ban. I have many more stories to tell.

Music is something I have always enjoyed. I started playing the accordion when I was just four years old and developed an interest for the piano, drums, and harmonica later in life. After my alcoholic ice cream ban in Norway, I took a year off and rented a house in the center of Stavanger. I furnished the house with instruments; its three floors contained almost every musical instrument I could get my hands on. I spent most of the hours of the day working on my musical expression.

I was certain that, whatever happened to me, I would have music to sustain me.

My best friend was studying fashion at Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design and I visited him often. Through him I was introduced to London’s creative universe and subsequently joined a musical group. It was here that I met Ben who was doing a degree in sound art at the London College of Printing - the longest running and most respected sound art school in the world. I made up my mind and by the end of the year I was back in London with only a CD in my pocket. That CD garnered the approval of the course directors and my acceptance into the college – my first step to becoming a proper sound artist.

London life was a shock, coming from a small town having had a whole house that I could fill to the rafters with instruments. It was difficult to suddenly find myself in a small rented room unable to play, so I started listening instead, which I found to be very important. We do develop a blindness to certain sounds in the city. I spent my time playing with David Toop in the London Laptop Orchestra, walking ‘Sound Walks’ around London, creating large scale music performances and writing my thesis. It was very much my research into the stimulation of the senses that helped shape Hansen & Lydersen into what it is today.

Trying to establish myself as a sound artist was much harder than I had imagined, and I realised that if I was to continue life in London I would have to make an income. This gave me the idea to start smoking salmon. Smoking salmon is so many things. My grandfather and great grandfather smoked salmon; I am sure that my family has been smoking since the 10th Century, as Vikings and most probably long before that. I guess fish is in my DNA, so I make smoking it into an art form.

I occupied an artist’s studio in one of those old industrial warehouses in East London that had been left to crumble into a state of disrepair. There was an empty boiler room at the back of the warehouse, once used to heat the space for the workers. I examined the space and an idea struck me with lightening speed - this could be my smokehouse!

That boiler room had it all: a solid brick foundation, a chimney and a front yard shaped like an alley. This, I realised, was the perfect setting to smoke fish!

At this point in time I had £300 in my account but my decision was made; I would recreate my grandfather’s tasty smoked salmon here in London. There in that derelict warehouse, in the boiler room. I would give London what it didn’t know it was missing!

All my friends and my family thought I was mad, but that has happened before so I ignored the warnings from the skeptics, followed my inner guiding star and set to work.

I soon learned that the more you tell people about your plans, the more monsters they create for you, so it’s much better to shut up and get on with it. I was convinced that if I could recreate the taste of my grandfather’s salmon, I would make many people very happy. I approached it like I compose music; I built it step by step but never losing the main vision, which was my mission to enrich people’s senses and experience.

The keystones of my business were to enfold organically: honesty, good ingredients and correct packaging, I simulated my grandfather’s smoking chamber perfectly, which gave process and the product integrity and true artisan flair. My grandfather believed that if the salmon moves in the wind during the smoking period, it tastes better. So I strive to do the same, making it move while in the smoke.

When there is no wind I play piano for them, creating sound waves instead. I cannot copy the Norwegian winds or any winds in the smokehouse so I have installed a piano next to the smoking chamber. I play for the salmon once the smoking chamber is loaded. The music causes motion just as the wind does and the result is sublime. I don’t think that I am changing the taste by doing so, but somehow it still seems to do something, Besides, it’s now become a ritual to create a moment of calm in my day; some harmony in the chaos of life.

Luckily, I had agreed a low monthly rent with the landlord.

This allowed me great freedom during my first year in business. I broke even after 3 months. Building the smokehouse with only a self-financed budget of £2000 taught me to squeeze every last drop of creativity out of every penny spent. The start up and the following three years were by far the hardest I had ever experienced, but nothing I have ever done has been so incredibly rewarding.

I spent a lot of time scouring the streets for restaurants and potential customers, which was a good way to start, learning from the bottom up. I have been thrown out of kitchens, kissed by chefs and fought by them too. Tantrums are part of the course, nothing to take too seriously. I know what it’s like to work in a kitchen and I’m not afraid to approach even the most colourful characters. They are my clients, so I get on with the task.

Recreating my grandfathers smoking chamber meant swimming against the stream. I avoid vacuum packing, I only use family businesses as suppliers and I fillet differently from everyone else. All of this takes time and energy but it also ensures a great product. Seeing people smile when they taste my salmon is the best seal of approval. If I could do this all again, I would do the same thing, it needed the preparation process to become what it is today. No one does it for you, and if you don’t follow your intuition, new ventures are not created. There is the mainstream and there is the upstream. One just has to choose what kind of fish one want to be. Be a salmon, swim against the stream, that’s what I do.

I will shortly be launching the salmon at Le Meurice in Paris and I am feeling the same childish butterflies, I felt when I smoked my first salmon, I am so excited; there are still so many places to go and so much to do. I believe, I have found my niche with Hansen & Lydersen. It’s an arena where I can use all my knowledge and still fulfill my need to face new challenges. I feel so lucky to have found this path; each day is different to the next. I realise now how all my experiences combined have made me able to solve almost any challenge and how important studying art and living close to nature has been, as it has made me sensitive to life. I have found my personal expression through the salmon. I use all my accumulated skills and my job title fills me with pride; I am Ole, the salmon smoker.

By Ole Hansen - Hansen and Lydersen

Hansen and Lydersen smoked salmon tartine: Prepare your side of salmon and your accompaniments - crisp breads from Peter’s Yard, good organic crème fraîche from Neal’s Yard, and dill fresh from the green grocer.

The salmon should be slightly cold or room temperature.

Norwegian delight with white fluffy clouds Take 2-3 slices of Hansen & Lydersen smoked salmon, sliced vertically.

A slice from the tail will yield the saltiest, smokiest flavours, while the belly will yield the mildest. Pick according to your own taste or use a blend.

Lay these slices of salmon across the crisp bread, garnish with a generous dollop of crème fraîche. Place a sprig of dill on the creme fraiche.

A wonderful smoked salmon delight.

It pairs well with Nomader Wit, a well flavourful beer.

Nordic simplicity

inspired by the Nordic design tradition and an affection for strong expressions, danish design company skagerak offers a wide range of beautiful interior. Each cutter item captures the best of danish design and stands out as an unique element on its own as well as a perfect contribution to a stylish home dĂŠcor.

“As a child I loved my hammer more than anything else, so much so, I used to take it to bed with me instead of a cuddly toy. At school I loved art and all the practical subjects but Maths and English where not the highlights of my days.

Daydreaming has always been a particular favourite. I consider myself to be a pretty chilled out, down to earth guy, but I like my thoughts to fly. I am open to new ideas and viewpoints and love to be on the bandwagon of creative innovation. Wood is by far my preferred material. I was captivated by wood from a young age and was constantly trying to make things from it. Wood makes me feel calm and working with it feels rewarding. It started with my granddad, who was a carpenter. I remember being in the shed with him and every so often, he would make me a toy. I would watch how a piece of wood came alive in his hands, taking shape, becoming a figure. I stared in wonder, mesmerised, following his hands at work. I was lucky to be introduced to this kind of magic at a very young age.

I started a carpentry apprenticeship after studying graphic design, the later I found too flat and linear. I didn’t know what exactly I wanted to do at the time but I knew, I wanted to be working with my hands in one way or another.

During my apprenticeship I took up woodturning as a hobby when an old family friend offered to teach me. At first, I was a bit skeptical, I didn’t know much about woodturning, and the wood turner Peter Sawyer was reaching 80. I was worried the whole thing would be a slow and boring process. I quickly found that there was no reason for my fear of boredom.

Instead, I was amazed watching him work, step by step. This was high art, magical transformation of wood that I had not imagined was possible.

There was nothing he couldn’t make. His turnings were incredible, functional works of art, produced using a skill learnt over generations. I was so lucky being part of this. The woodturning process was very relaxing and peaceful, and being able to hold the sculpted finished piece after starting with what looked like an old log, was incredibly rewarding. This experience led me in part to consider moving into design, to find more versatile creative freedom, something I was not able to find working on building sites and with restoration work.

As probably with most designers, I love doodling along, loosing myself in dreams rather than sorting out the accounts, so running a business is a challenge for that reason. Better to work and listen to my tunes - Jimmy Hendrix and Massive Attack, Mount Kimbie, lots of Indie, it keeps me going.

Besides my work I love travelling, preferably to New York where I lived for a while. I just love the vibrancy and intensity of the place. If I could go anywhere, I would love to travel back in time to 60’s London. I so envy the creative set from that time; they seemed to live in a very enthusiastic way. Think about Space Odyssey from 1968, such imagination and playfulness, all without the technical support we have available today. It just shows the panache for visual exploration there was around, which was so evident in film, art and fashion. It’s fascinating and was more often than not incredibly groundbreaking!

I love architecture and interiors, and I am constantly looking at what is new in the market. I would love to do a hotel from scratch, from architecture to every part of the interior. Something simple and pleasant, somewhere where people straight away feel that it is not here because it is mass produced or fits the standard hotel bill but more personal, pared down, warm and simple.

There is a growing trend of stripping back to the true essence of objects and solutions. Designers are looking for core values as inspiration to drive their work.

This is happening in many creative fields, design, fashion, food, living solutions. They’re all going back to good quality, simple form and set up, letting the material and craftsmanship speak for itself.

I wasn’t born in London and only moved here recently.

The city gives me joy and brings excitement but I also love my solitude. When going out, I need to find my spaces and places. I like to go back to the same venues to build a kind of bond with them..

I do look at other designers work, and there are many I admire, but most of all I look within me, to what I relate to and what makes me comfortable, keeping it simple, finding a narrative.

My favourite invention is the pencil, a very simple object out of which I get so much joy and which has been so vital in transporting information for centuries.”

By Daniel Schofield Daniel Schoefield has designed a range of beautifully elegant products for Skandium, which we are delighted to be launching during London Design Festival 2014. The designs are easy, allowing the eye to rest, giving space to breathe. The brief was to create simple work, but not to be boring. He has managed to fulfill this brief beautifully. A sofa, a table set, the innovative but simple shelving system and a coat rack, all slick, light, perfect. Quite an achievement for a start up, founded in London in 2012.

We are proud to present the new additions to the Studio Skandium range.

Dove Box

shelving system by Daniel Schofield for Skandium

Harri Harri Koskinen, was born 1970, in Karstula, Finland and studied at the Lahti Institute of Design and the University of Art and Design in Helsinki. In 1998, he established his own studio, Friends of Industry, which offers product and concept design as well as exhibition architecture. Koskinen’s uncompromising and outstanding design has been internationally recognised right from the beginning of his career. He has an extensive work repertoire with clients including Iittala, Arabia, Artek, Cassina, Design House Stockholm, Finlandia Vodka, Finlayson, Magis, Maruni Wood Industry, Issey Miyake, Muji, O Luce, Panasonic, Seiko Instruments, Swarovski, Venini, Woodnotes… the list goes on.

His design is characterised by practicality and strict aesthetic criteria. His forms are pleasantly uncontrived and his simple solutions have been internationally recognised from the beginning of his career. Many of his works have been presented in numerous exhibitions worldwide and one of his most iconic designs is the Block Lamp designed in 1996, for Design House Stockholm. The Block lamp was an idea that was developed whilst at university where the subject for this challenge was to create an ideal wedding gift.

“I had this simple form that I wanted to cast in glass, and got the idea to ‘wrap’ something into the glass. I first tried a couple of snaps glasses, but then the same thing happened like always when I’m in the design process – at a subconscious level I started reducing, and the light emerged.”

As soon as the light was launched it catapulted to the status of design icon and its creator was propelled to the forefront of new, innovative, designers. The Block Lamp is included in the collection of New York’s MoMa and his work is also represented in the permanent collections of Helsinki’s Design Museum and the Chicago Athenaeum, museum of Architecture and Design.

Along the years, our man has won several prestigious awards. The most significant of them is the Swedish Torsten and Wanja Söderberg Prize in 2009, which some consider to be the most prestigious design prize worldwide. The jury noted, despite his young age: “Harri is possibly Finland’s most renown contemporary designer, whose work is a perfect combination of tradition and renewal.”

Another prize received was the highly esteemed Compasso d’Oro Award in 2004 for the Muu chair designed for Montina, Italy. The last time this prize was awarded to a Finn, it went to Eero Aarnio for his Trioli chair in 2008 and in 1957, Kaj Franck received it for his ‘Life’s Work’.

I had this simple form that I wanted to cast in glass, and got the idea to ’wrap’ something into the glass. I first tried a couple of snaps glasses, but then I started reducing, and the light emerged.

Harri Koskinen is without doubt one of Finland’s most important designers today. His ingenious simple design language is deeply rooted in the Finnish design tradition, striving for austerity, clarity and simplicity.

From furniture to lighting, loudspeakers to watches, textiles, bottle design for Finlandia and art glass work for Venini and Iittala, it’s difficult to find a designer with a broader range of work.

Harri has worked with master glass blowers at Venini in Italy and Nuutajärvi glassworks in Finland. The limited edition Pokaali goblets, designed for Iittala’s art glass series are fine examples of Koskinen’s intricate designs. The Iittala Goblets require two highly skilled glassblowers working simultaneously and combine different coloured glass for the bowl, stem and base.

The majestic Pokaali goblet demonstrates what two glassblowers working together can achieve. Comprising of three sections of different colours, the Goblets are a joyous celebration of coloured glass, and are equally at home as pure decoration or as drinking glasses. As Koskinen explains, “It was surprisingly difficult to choose the right combinations of colours for these pieces, how they work together is critical. Glass colours are never static and change with the light and the angle they are looked at. In fact, I would have liked to make prototypes of all the various colour combinations I had in mind!”

Another series by Koskinen is the cylindrical two colour pieces called Kohta. The name refers to the production method drawing on the centuries old Incalmo technique, developed by Italian master glassblowers to create bands of colour. Koskinen’s Kohta design features two cylindrical sections of different coloured glass fitted into one other, creating a third colour where they join. This technique is a new variation on the Incalmo technique developed jointly by Harri and the glassblowers at Nuutajärvi.

It does not try to mimic the Italian method, which requires its own special type of glass, however the craftsmen at Nuutajärvi took a pretty bold approach to adapting the technique, and the end result is quite distinctive.

Although the delicacy of the glass still comes through, the overriding feeling is very solid, almost rough-edged.

The Art Works collection gives the appearance of having been born very organically, as if each piece has gradually come of age and then taken up its place in the family. In this sense, it parallels life inside the glass factory, where everyone - from those responsible for melting the glass in the furnaces to the people packing the end products - has their own carefully delineated role to play. Working together as a team, they create the environment needed for masterpieces to see the light of day.

To enhance Iittala’s global growth and to emphasise the strategic role of design for the Iittala brand, Harri Koskinen and Iittala signed a cooperation agreement and Koskinen was appointed as Iittala’s design director in 2011.

In 2012, Harri Koskinen designed the Bello cabinet range for Skandium, which is produced through Isokon Plus in East London. The idea was to offer people good quality storage solutions that would last a lifetime, all at a reasonable price. The shape is simple, almost like a travel trunk with slightly rounded edges, a certain soft aspect that is so often used by the designer.

The tonage is muted and very versatile, making them easy to combine with different interior styles and other colour shades. Bello is simply a silent beauty, ready to store whatever needs to be packed away.

egend of Tomte Tomte (Swedish) or tonttu (Finnish, also called Nisse in Norway) are solitary, mischievous domestic spirits, responsible for the protection and welfare of a farmstead and its buildings. Tomte are folklore creatures originally believed to stem from the soul of the first farm owner, then becoming a spirit figure, ensuring the farm’s continuous care. Tomte have a love for tradition, they don’t like change. They are ancestral figures who demand respect. Farms were often isolated and inhabitants lived through long, dark winters; the tomte figures sprang from their imaginations and became companions to keep solitude at bay.

Tomte literally means ‘homestead man’ and is derived from the word ‘tomt’ which means homestead or building. Nisse, as he is called in Norway, is derived from the name Nils, which is the Scandinavian form of St. Nicholas.

A tomte is described as a little old man, three feet high, with a long white beard, wearing grey, brown or navy clothes with traditional boots and sporting a bright red cap on his head. There are different dress codes for the different types of tomtes. The ones living in the stables with the animals wear mostly grey clothes while the ones in the main house are dressed more neatly, combining some colour with the grey, such as blue or dark green.

There are tomte residing in the pantry and the barn, watching over the household and farm. They are responsible for the care of the house and farm animals, especially the much-valued horses. The tomte have an enormous capacity for work but will not tolerate anyone’s interference. A sure way to offend a tomte is rudeness. Maids or farm workers swearing, dirty outhouses and stables, or not treating creatures well are all things that would incur his disapproval. If anyone spills anything on the floor of the house, it is advised to shout a warning to the tomte so that he doesn’t fall into the puddle. If he is ever offended in any way, he could play all kinds of pranks such as binding all cows’ tails together, turning objects upside down or breaking things.

It is believed that a clean and orderly home or farm is an indication that a domestic tomte spirit resides there. When people moved from the countryside into the cities they brought their tomte with them. He sleeps under the floorboards during spring and summer and starts waking up when the days get long and cold around the winter solstice. Then he starts preparing the home for Christmas, cleaning, washing, ironing, preparing all Christmas food, baking and sweet making. His presence is very much cherished by city dwellers and country folks alike, as it is fortunate to have an able tomte in ones home.

Tomtar require very little from humans they work for. They demand only the respect and trust of the homeowner and a bowl of julgröt (Christmas porridge) with butter for Christmas eve. These spirits though will not remain in a home where respect is lacking and thus the farm or home will not thrive and the inhabitants will be reduced to poverty. A tomte considers porridge his due and loves butter. In the old days, butter was a luxury, consumed only on special occasions. The tale of the Tomte who got no butter on his Christmas porridge illustrates the consequences of tampering with his favourite meal.

Legend has it that one Christmas eve, a servant girl decided to play a trick on the tomte. She hid the butter for his porridge at the bottom of the bowl. When tomte saw, there was no butter on his Christmas porridge, he went to the shed and killed the best cow. He wanted to show them that he did not appreciate being begrudged a little bit of butter. He returned to the barn to eat the porridge anyway. When he discovered the butter at the bottom of the bowl, he felt so bad that he walked to the neighbour’s farm, took their best cow, and led her back to the stable of the cow he had killed. According to folktales, domestic spirits often steal from a neighbour to increase the prosperity of the farm where they make their home. This is demonstrated in the story ‘The tomte who stole fodder’.

The spirit of the tomte is still very much alive today both in towns and in the countryside. He is a welcome invisible companion when the days get darker and longer and one has to start all the many preparations for Christmas. From the tomte figure, the Scandinavians adopted the St. Nicolas figure or the popular representation of Father Christmas (as introduced by Coca Cola in their early advertising). Here our tomte is portrayed as an older, good natured, adult-sized man (unsurprisingly the size of an uncle or father) with a long white beard and a red hat and suit. He carries a sack of toys on his back, visits children in their homes on Christmas Eve and always asks, “Are there any good children here?” Many believe he lives at the North Pole, where he has his workshop.

Tomte is so dear to Scandinavian hearts that the romantic Swedish novelist Victor Rydberg has written a poem in his honour, published in 1881. Here the tomte is alone and awake on Christmas night, pondering the mysteries of life and death. This poem was illustrated by Jenny Nyström (around 1885), who with her romantic creations, triggered the fantasies of young and old.

We will always cherish the tomte as it keeps our spirits up during the dark winter nights leading up to Christmas.

“To me the drawn language is a very revealing language: one can see in a few lines whether someone is really an architect.”

From Mad Men’s dawn to the present day, second generation modernist architect Eero Saarinen is still filling us with admiration. From his work on the Saint Louis Gateway Arch to the Trans World Airlines Terminal at John F. Kennedy airport, we love to watch and be inspired by his work. Without Eero Saarinen, thee would be no Zaha Hadid.

In America’s postwar years, architects and builders were redefining modernism, taking advantage of new construction techniques and materials to create a visual language for the 20th century. Finnish-American architect Eero Saarinen, born in Finland in 1910, was amazingly prolific and successful throughout this era, designing projects large and small, from the Gateway and the TWA Flight Center at JFK Airport, to community churches, individual homes and furniture for Knoll.

Eero Saarinen’s father was the great architect Eliel Saarinen, (train station Helsinki), his mother was a photographer and architectural model maker. At the age of 12, Eero Saarinen won a matchstick design competition, one of many competitions he would win throughout his life.

Eero grew up in a household where drawing and painting were taken very seriously, and a devotion to quality and professionalism were instilled in him at an early age.

He was taught that each object should be designed in its “next largest context, a chair in a room, a room in a house, a house in an environment, environment in a city plan.”

In 1923 the Saarinens emigrated to the United States and settled in Michigan, north of Detroit, where his father Eliel headed the Cranbrook Institute of Architecture and Design. Between 1930 and 1934, Eero studied at the Yale School of Architecture.

After a two-year fellowship in Europe, he returned to Cranbrook in 1936 to become an instructor of design and his father’s partner in the architectural firm. It was during this period that he began to build a reputation as an architect who refused to be restrained by any preconceived ideas. It was at Cranbrook where Saarinen met Charles Eames. The two found common ground in wanting to push the boundaries of form and function, and fast became great friends. They collaborated on many projects together and strongly influenced each others work. The most significant was their collection of molded plywood chairs for the MoMa ‘Organic Design in Home Furnishings’ competition. Their collection was awarded first prize in all categories, catapulting the young designers to the forefront of the American modern furniture movement.

TWA Terminal, JFK Airport, New York

Saarinen also met Florence Knoll (born Schust) at Cranbrook, Florence being a promising protégé of Eliel Saarinen. Florence spent much time with the Saarinens in Finland, their friendship lasting a lifetime.

Florence joined Knoll in 1940, and it was a natural choice to ask Eero to design over the next 15 years for the company when some of the most recognizable icons for Knoll where created. We still enjoy the Womb chair, the magnificent sculptural Tulip table and chairs (making its debut in 1958), the Executive chair, which must be the world’s most comfortable dining chair still to date. His design was sculptural and very different at the time. He was obsessed with precision, building endless samples of his ideas before the prototypes where made and, only after meticulous scrutiny, where released into production. His designs, which employed modern materials in graceful, organic shapes, helped establish the reputation and identity of Knoll during its formative years.

After working with his father on a number of projects, Eero had a chance to express his own philosophy when he entered the 1947 architectural competition for Jefferson National Expansion Memorial. This was his first opportunity to establish himself as an independent architect, and he set out to design a monument not only to Thomas Jefferson and the nation, but also to the modern age. For him, “the major concern was to create a monument which would have lasting significance and would be a landmark of our time. Neither an obelisk nor a rectangular box nor a dome seemed right on this site or for this purpose. But here, at the edge of the Mississippi River, a great arch did seem right.”

He carefully studied the site and its surroundings to ensure that the design encompassed the whole environment. His opinion was that “all parts of an architectural composition must be parts of the same form-world.” The Arch was to rise majestically from a small forest set on the edge of the great river. Saarinen considered it to be perfect in its form and its symbolism.

The Arch was Saarinen’s first great triumph, but there would be many more. Projects such as the General Motors Technical Center near Detroit, the TWA Terminal in New York City, and the Dulles International Airport near Washington, D.C. brought him acclaim and established him as one of the most successful and creative architects of his time.

As his designs show, Eero Saarinen was a man of vision. He died of a brain tumor in 1961 at the age of 51, and is buried in Michigan. Though his life was tragically cut short, his vision lives on through the structures that he created. The Gateway Arch marked the beginning of his career just as the “Gateway to the West” marked the beginning of a new life for countless pioneers. In both cases the desire was to move boldly toward the future. The Arch is ultimately a monument to all those hosting a vision; both Thomas Jefferson, the American pioneers, and Eero Saarinen.

By Christina Schmidt

Thomas Jefferson, Memorial Arch

Celebrate 75 years of iconic design, from pioneering modernist vision to bold contemporary designs for home and office.

Always timeless. Always true. www.knolleurope.com Knoll 91 Goswell Road, Clerkenwell London, EC1V 7EX

Celebrate 75 years of iconic design, from pioneering modernist vision to bold contemporary designs for home and office.

Always timeless. Always true. www.knolleurope.com Knoll 91 Goswell Road, Clerkenwell London, EC1V 7EX

Jean ProuvĂŠ Le Contructeur

The designs of Jean Prouvé have, in recent years, visited peoples minds and hearts more frequently than ever before. We might of course ask ourselves why now? What is so special about his design that resonates so clearly with us today?

We live in a time awash with copies, and thoughtless, ‘fast food’ design whose mere purpose is to fill space, so no wonder both professionals and the general public alike have been drawn to the work of Jean Prouvé, who lived by the motto ‘never devote ones own creativity to a copy’. Born in 1901 in Nancy, France, Jean Prouvé - like so many other great designers and architects - was immediately surrounded by strong artistic influences through his parents, artisan and painter Victor Prouvé and pianist Marie Duhamel. When Prouvé was still a young child, his father Victor and godfather Emile Galle founded ‘Ecole de Nancy’, a group of Art Nouveau artists, artisans and manufacturers that opposed historicism and tradition and promoted the unity of everyday life and the arts. This came to influence Jean greatly. He developed a progressive hunger to experiment with ground breaking new materials and constructions and also grew keen to infuse art into everyday life by designing industrial products, details, facades and whole houses; he firmly believed in the power of design as a tool to make the world a better place.

Unlike other designers and architects of his time who were preoccupied by the pure aesthetics of Modernism, Jean Prouvé was one of those rare men with the ability to see the object as a whole, uniting it with its surroundings, not only aesthetically and technically, but also socially. His sensibilities were ahead of their time, but somewhat echoed by Finnish architect duo Aino and Alvar Aalto.

Jean Prouvé was clearly a man of broad visions and skill.

After the war and the German occupation, during which time Prouvé fought for the French Resistance, he was awarded the role of Mayor of Nancy for his bravery. How many designers and architects can add that to their portfolio? Bravely and progressively he also carried through a new collaborative ethos for his design studio, introducing the idea of teamwork. This meant that everyone was to work together within the same walls of one single space (a forerunner of our common and popular open plan studios and offices of today). Each production stage was intertwined with the other so that the overall impression was as if one person had completed all stages in the production. His fundamental belief in the intertwined process would sadly later be challenged, as, when the business had grown so large by the early 1950s, Prouvé was forced out of the production floor and into a separate office and desk. Detached from the heart of the creative process, he just couldn’t produce the same meaningful design he had created before, and one day in 1956 he left his office desk with the words: ‘I cannot work like this’.

Meaningfully pondering in a Heideggerian manner, Prouvé, just like Aalto, asked himself: “What does the material think?” whilst balancing on the back legs of a chair.

(Jean’s daughter Catherine Prouvé proudly remembers and of course he was the one managing to balance perfectly well.) This sweet memory brings immediately to my mind the moment when Jean Prouvé first came to think of what would become one of his most well known designs: the Standard Chair (Chair no 4) with its robust but elegant back legs. Designed in 1934, the Standard Chair fully expresses the characteristics of Prouvé’s work, with its full awareness of the anatomy of the human body. The chair perfectly illustrates the transfer of forces of the sitter’s weight through the voluminous folded steel back legs that loudly and convincingly express its strength and stability, while the front legs -made from tubular steel- are composed of the minimum possible material required for its purpose. The Standard Chair is the result of a study of office chairs that Prouvé made (perhaps visualising an office full of neat workers in ties balancing their back chair legs as perfectly as himself). It is worth visiting the V&A Museum’s furniture gallery, hosting an original Standard Chair from 1948.

Swiss furniture manufacturer Vitra has been producing a collection of Jean Prouvé’s designs since 2001, an essential contribution to the popularity of his furniture designs including fine pieces such as the Compas desk, Guéridon table, Potence wall lamp, Cité armchair, and of course the Standard Chair and the EM Table, which makes an elegant dining set. The Prouvé family often used this set with visitors ranging from esteemed architect and designer Le Corbusier to the hitchhikers Jean Prouvé picked up in his sports car on his way home from the Paris office. Prouvé was not just concerned with social issues, he was also a friendly and amicable man.

Jean Prouvé’s real significance today, in the current climates of economic and environmental fragility, lies in his mission to design with the unconditional guidelines of utility, ‘minimal use of materials as well as the simplest construction methods possible’. And, in the process of this elegant mastering, Prouvé produced a timeless and very personal aesthetic language.

No wonder contemporary designers and architects, such as Renzo Piano, Norman Foster, Jasper Morrison & the French brothers Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec, draw inspiration from Jean Prouvé’s explicit oeuvre, and think of him as someone who ‘intelligently connected a materials capability to an aesthetic born of a constructions logic’.

Interestingly and admirably, it is the furniture designs that Jean Prouvé originally created for student accommodation, schools, universities and administrative buildings that are now considered to be luxury pieces, due to their high production quality and choice of material. These simple and robust designs have become sought after classics that will never go out of fashion.

By Malen Hult, Skandium

Louis Poulsen PH5 light by Poul Henningsen, Woodnotes Siro chair by Ilkka Suppanen & Raffaella Mangiarotti, Georg Jensen Ilse candle holder by Ilse Crawford, Iittala bird by Oiva Toikka, Woodnotes cushions by Ritva Puotila, Marimekko fabric by Sanna Annukka, Iittala Leimu light by Magnus Patterson, Skultuna bowls by Olof Kolte, Iittala shelves by Cecilie Manz, Iittala Taika and Teema plate with Aino glass.

Easy living solutions to enhance our lives

The Matter of Light Poul Henningsen (9 September 1894 – 31 January 1967) simply referred to by his native Danes as PH, was one of the leading figures of the cultural life in Denmark between the World Wars. Poul Henningsen was the illegitimate son of author Agnes Henningsen and satirist Carl Ewald. He spent a happy childhood in a tolerant and modern home, which was often visited by leading literates, intellectuals, artists and innovators of their time. Between 1911 and 1917 he was educated as an architect, but never graduated, instead, he tried himself as an inventor, designer, painter and author.

“All political art is bad – all good art is political.”

He was a gifted and well known writer who during the 1920’s edited the polemic left wing magazine Kritisk Revy (1926-1928) where he made it his mission to scorn old fashioned style and cultural conservatism, linking these issues to political themes.

At the same time he began as a revue writer, praising natural behavior, sexual broad-mindedness and simple living. He was the man who made the Danish revues a political weapon of the left wing without giving up its character of entertainment (the so-called PH-revues 1929–32). In 1933 he edited his most famous work ‘Hvad med Kulturen’? (What About Culture?), a polemic, audacious and urgent criticism of Danish cultural life and its snobbism and passion of the past, in spite of all the efforts of new ideas of modern break through. He tried to make parallels between prudery, moralizing and fascist leanings, and he also accused the Social Democrats of lacking a firm and consequent cultural line. All this gave him the connotation of being a semi-communist. During this period he stood near the communists without joining them. He took part in the anti-fascist propaganda, always trying to connect culture and politics.

“Future comes by itself, progress does not.”

During World War II and the German Occupation of Denmark he kept a low profile and fled to Sweden in 1943, but tried to keep the spirit going by camouflaged resistance poetry. After the war he dissociated himself from the communists who were criticizing him for his humanitarianism in attitude and for his growing skepticism about the Soviet Union. All this kept him politically isolated. After all he kept faithful to his calling, which was to pursue and nurture humanism. He kept writing and debating, and during the 1960s the new generation in many ways made him something of a guru. In his last years Poul Henningsen became a member of the Danish Academy.

“The only thing which separates man from child is all the values he has lost over the years.”

The manufacturer Louis Poulsen spotted the innovative young man who presented a number of light solutions to the company by illustrating how the light flows between dinner plates stacked together upside down and reverse, not only creating an interesting form but also soft illumination. He was quickly hired and together they developed a series of lights, which have become iconic. The first PH lamp was already introduced in 1925, which like his later designs, used carefully analyzed reflecting and baffling of the light rays from the bulb to achieve glare-free, uniform illumination.

All Poul Henningsen’s lights feature the typical characteristics of stacked parts, which let light flow through them. His best know and most used version is the PH5 from 1958, a ceiling lamp used in almost every Danish home. The light was given the name, as the widest shade, it’s diameter is 50cm with 5 referring to 5dm (19.7”). Made to hang above dining tables, spreading light over the table, uniting the people gathered around it, while spreading a softer light to the surrounding. The PH 5, as all PH lights, give a glare free illumination with light directed both vertically and horizontally. The PH5 lamp is one of the most popular lamps ever made and finds it’s way securely into the future.

Another light from the same year, the crown of his production, is the PH Artichoke, launched almost 50 years ago, a truly magnificent lighting feature composed of single metal leaves stacked upon each other, similar to the formation of an artichoke, with and inner chrome diffuser allowing an even reflection of the light source. It is made of twelve steel arches. On this structure Poul Henningsen placed 72 metal leaves in twelve circular rows with six blades in each row. Because each row is staggered from the previous, all 72 leaves are able to cover for each other. This design allows you to view the fixture from any angle without being able to see the light source located in the center of the PH Artichoke. The original PH Artichokes were developed for the restaurant Langelinie Pavilion in Copenhagen, still in use today. The light is a classic icon of mid century modern Scandinavian design.

The PH Artichoke is part of the Design Collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Despite many attempts, the Artichoke has still today not been copied in its full glory of harmonious form, function and production quality. The new glass version comes with an installation service from the factory, as each glass leaf has to be set by hand on site.

All Poul Henningsen lights are manufactured to supreme standards with high quality components, giving an understated luxurious feel to any environment. Always stylish, effortlessly elegant and unique in its form language and style, the PH lamps are modern classics that evoke wellbeing and sophistication, making it true luxury components of life.

There is a wide selection of table, floor and ceiling lights in the PH collection, notable is that all glass parts are mouth blown, not machine pressed. Mouth blown glass is layered and therefore allowing the light to break through the glass in a softened way, while machine pressed glass consists of one layer, giving a harsh light reflection. In the PH series, amongst other, there is the PH Snowball and the PH Grand Piano, which are included in several notable 20th-century design collections, including the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.

The lights in Copenhagen’s amusement park Tivoli where designed by Poul Henningsen. A man of the people and for the well being of people, he believed good illumination of homes and workplaces would further education and literacy, something he looked to encourage the general public to indulge in.

By Christina Schmidt

Great quotes by Poul Henningsen to keep us inspired.

p h 3 ½ -3 pendant

P H 3 ½ -3 P e n d a n t Design: Poul Henningsen

w w w. l o u i s p o u l s e n . c o m

WHEN THE

BAUHAUS CAME TO LONDON

Isokon and Wells Coates

Isokon and the Pritchard’s

Wells Coates (1895-1958) first came to the attention of Jack and Molly Pritchard through the pages of the design press. Articles showed the shop interior he had designed for the silk manufacturers Cryséde, in which he used plywood extensively in just the sort of manner that Jack was trying to promote as part of Venesta’s programme to expand its market to the architectural profession. In March 1929, the company contacted Coates and the two men met shortly after; an encounter that laid the seeds of the collaboration that, five years later, came to fruition in the Lawn Road Flats.

Lawn Road Flats were the visionary concept of Jack and Molly Pritchard.

A remarkable couple, they both came from solid professional middle class families but they were true progressives in their outlook.

Born in Tokyo to parents who were missionaries for the Canadian Methodist Church, Coates was educated privately by tutors, learning both traditional Japanese craft skills and the eminently modern practices of shorthand and typing. Leaving Japan in 1913, he sailed for Canada to enter university. His studies were interrupted by war service in the Canadian Field Artillery and the RAF, and it was not until 1922 that he completed a degree in Mechanical Engineering. Although this would have taught him the techniques of drawing plans and blueprints, as well as instilling in him a lifelong preoccupation with the mechanics of how things fit together and work, this was only design education that Coates received. He had no formal training as an architect.

Coates came to England in 1922 to study for a PhD, and was seemingly destined for an academic career. However, in an early sign of the progressiveness which chimed so well with the Pritchards’ revolutionary spirit, he rejected academia within weeks of being awarded his doctorate in 1924 and instead devoted the next four years to his transformation into a modern intellectual and writer (meanwhile supporting himself as a secretary and journalist). In the clubs, studios and bedsits of the most avant-garde quarter of London’s Fitzvrovia, he came to understand the need to move ways of living, working, and creating away from outmoded norms, but it was only when he redesigned the rooms into which he and his new wife, Marion Grove, moved into in 1928 that he realised his vocation as an architect.

He never looked back. Through his bohemian friends he gained the Cryséde commission and then began to develop a distinctive architectural language that combined the use of the most modern materials (like plywood) with a severe simplicity of form and compactness of planning. It was this approach to design that seemed an answer to the Pritchards’ disappointment with the first plans for the site on Lawn Road and they recruited him as their architect for a new scheme. Over the ensuing years, and after much debate and not a little disagreement, scheme gave way to scheme before it was agreed to build the block of small flats that where completed in the summer of 1934.

Lawn Road Flats marked a turning point in Coates’ career. It was his first complete building and one that demonstrated his consummate skills as a designer of space and form. Over the rest of the decade he consolidated his reputation as the leading British modernist through his leadership of the MARS Group (the British branch of CIAM), his work as an industrial designer - especially for the electronics manufacturer EKCO - and as the architect of a series of further permutations on the Lawn Road model at Embassy Court (Brighton) and Palace Gate (West London). After the war, Coates’s most notable commission was for the Telekinema at the Festival of Britain (1951). In 1956, he settled permanently in Vancouver where he began to work with local architects on the redevelopment of its downtown area.

The plans for this had only recently been announced when he died suddenly of a heart attack in June 1958.

By Elizabeth Darling Dr. Elizabeth Darling is the author of the book “Wells Coates”

by RIBA Publishing in collaboration with the 20th Century Society and English Heritage

Lawn Road Flats were not only architecturally innovative but they were socially experimental, too. As a result, Jack and Molly Pritchard came to be regarded as the archetypal Hampstead modern couple. The son of an up-and-coming barrister, Jack Craven Pritchard (1899-1992) was born at 6 Compayne Gardens, just off the Finchley Road. Soon afterwards, the family moved to Maresfield Gardens.

Molly Pritchard (1900-1985) was born Rosemary Cooke. Her father was a London solicitor, her mother the daughter of the senior partner in her father’s firm. Jack and Molly first met as undergraduates at Cambridge.

Jack, having served in the Royal Navy in the First World War, was reading engineering at Pembroke College, while Molly was at Girton, studying medicine. She was later to practice as a psychiatrist with modernist consulting rooms on Harley Street.

Jack and Molly, who married in 1924, conceived Lawn Road Flats in a bid for freedom from the middle class conventions they had been brought up with. ‘How do we want to live, what sort of framework must we build around ourselves to make that living as pleasant as possible?’ These were the basic questions asked by Molly Pritchard when drawing up the brief for a new form of urban living for young London professionals. This new way of living would be streamlined, anti-bourgeois, non-domestic, untrammelled by superfluous possessions and (up to a point) sexually liberated.

Jack Pritchard was well travelled and, more so than most Englishmen of his generation, an admirer of modern European architecture. When working for Venesta Plywood Company he commissioned an exhibition stand from Le Corbusier. He was inspired by continental experiments in communal living; influences that shaped his ideas for Lawn Road Flats.

Jack and Molly were believers in the free education movements of the 1930s, opening a nursery school in Hampstead, managed by Beatrix Tudor-Hart, with whom Jack had a daughter, Jennifer. They sent their own two children Jonathan and Jeremy to Dora Russell’s notoriously experimental Beacon Hill school. The Pritchards believed in good food, fine wine and vigorous uncensored conversation. The convivial atmosphere they created at Lawn Road Flats was unique for the Britain of that time. Here, from the middle 1930s they provided a home from home for numerous refugees from Nazi Europe, among them Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus movement, of whom Jack Pritchard was to write: ‘The good fortune in working with Gropius has been one of the most important things in my life’.

After the war Jack Pritchard was appointed Director of the Furniture Development Company. He and Molly built a house named ‘Isokon’ at Blythburgh in Suffolk that was designed by Jack’s daughter Jennifer and her architect husband Colin Jones. After selling Lawn Road Flats to Camden Council in 1971 the Pritchards gravitated towards Blythburgh, entertaining their multitude of friends with continuing verve and generosity. Their iconoclastic outlook continued into old age.

By Fiona McCarthy Isokon today: The 9th July 2014 saw the 80th anniversary celebrations of the Isokon Building as Lawn Road Flats is known today, with a plaque unveiled by the families of Wells Coates and Jack & Molly Pritchard. With the help of the National Trust, and with input from Britain’s leading experts on the Modern Movement, the Isokon Gallery Trust now runs a public exhibition in the former garage of the building, free to enter and open to the public Saturdays and Sundays 11am to 4pm between early March and late October. The Gallery also features a gift shop that sells items relating to the building and its wider context, including some items made exclusively for the Gallery. Not to be missed! Support has been given by Sir Paul Smith, Lord Rogers, Avanti Architects, South Kensington Estate, CWM, Atrium, Isokon Plus and of course Skandium.

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Skandium provides timeless interior design for spaces big and small, for indoor and outdoor. From private homes to offices and hotels. The merchandise we offer has contributed to the standards we today expect of good living quality. The pieces have been designed by many of the Scandinavian architects and designers who developed not just a particular form language but with it an uncomplicated way of living. Many of the items in our portfolio are found in museums all over the world, making them additionally good investment pieces.

The ethos of design and production reflect a fundamental understanding of how to shape our living environment so all aspects are included, sustaining all who have been involved in creating the final product. This includes respecting the environment throughout the entire production process. Education and adequate pay for the workforce are paramount, as is the social care for those involved in bringing forth the products.

Care builds a circle of prosperity as it is sustainable from the source, through the production process and finally, to the consumer, offering items which are well made and long lasting; items that are handed down through generations instead of contributing to the ever increasing mountain of disposable design.

The modernists’ idea was to find a more egalitarian way of shaping our living environment, including the aim to create beautiful, functional, products and solutions for any space. Their ethos had social, political, and environmental implications, striving for a society where the individual was supported, where everyone had a place.

We at Skandium want to be part of this ethos, contributing in a meaningful way to people’s lives. Our interior design service looks at the space as a whole, bringing out its best assets to fully support the user in all aspects of their life. We provide a wide variety of services, depending on the customers needs. For bigger projects, we source all which is needed to develop a space, from decorators over materials to the final touches required to transform any place to its most beautiful and best of function. We offer timeles, uncomplicated, lasting, stylish interiors.

Besides interior design services, we offer a wedding list service through our stores and contract sales through our office team.

Born an Upholsterer

Tomasz was asked to reupholster an Ox chair in leather by Hans Wegner, nothing for the faint hearted. This requires true craftmanship and much knowledge, something he brings with him learned from an early age, passed down through generations. Here he tells his story.

I was born 1976 in a small provincial town in North East Poland. My father and my mother where both upholsterers, so was my grandfather and his father. Upholstery is in my blood, it is my life, is what I love to do. I started helping my father as a junior apprentice at the age of 12. We would work in our little workshop all hours through the year, even on ice cold winter days. I loved watching my father at work. How skillfully he could transform something ugly into something most beautiful, making magic with his hands. He was my best teacher and at his side I spent three years learning the basics of the trade, and later quite advanced skills. It was then, at 15, I was sent to work with another upholsterer to get a different perspective, to learn other skills and to stand on my own feet. I have since completed my Master Upholster diploma and managed a stint at university learning engineering - I was not so keen on the latter as it was very theoretical. However, it was a time when I was able to travel, which I did a lot, again to look beyond what I was used to in order to find new ways of thinking. Germany, Sweden, Norway, France, Monaco, the UK - I loved it! The countries are so close, yet so diverse. It is interesting to see how people can act so differently in similar situations. I just love observing and soaking up the surroundings.

Finally - now many years ago - I settled in London. I love London the most! It offers so much choice and variety, it’s never boring and it’s always challenging. I have been employed for 11 years here and have simultaneously been teaching both at my workplace and at Shoreditch Design Room in Hackney. Many of my pupils have become upholsterers and have opened their own businesses, something that pleases me a lot. I offer people a real trade, something to value, something that supports them and others, too.

I now have a 7-year-old son who, oddly, loves to come to my workplace and learn about the tools and materials.

We tried to put him into music and ballet class, but soon the teachers would come to me saying, “this boy is not made for dance, see what else he likes instead”. I truly do not want to influence him, as I believe that finding ones true calling brings much blessing to ones life and of course, I want him to feel free to choose what he wants to do.

Strangely though, he chooses to play with work tools. I am happy that I am able to pass my trade onto him should he decide to follow in the family footsteps.

After so many years of training people, I am now venturing into building my own business. I’m doing this together with the Shoreditch Design Room. Often my customers are very wealthy, so when I turn up with my bike and toolbox and without a flash car or a big logo, they look me up and down skeptically, wondering if they’ve hired the right man. Luckily once I get going they change their tune, which is great for me as I love to amaze them.

By Tomasz Seweryn, upholsterer

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