Milan Meh
Hey, at least we got some cute little Marimekko Espresso Cups as gifts! (Made in Thailand.)
I was waiting for my flight back from Milan to Frankfurt when I read the headline of an article posted by a major German newspaper: “Congratulations, World, on the fourth global coral bleaching!“ Some weeks earlier, Nina visited the See Conference in Wiesbaden, Germany, where the first talk by Mark Benecke, a forensic biologist, made her feel nothing but depressed by pointing out how slow and bad humanity is in fighting the climate crisis.
Given this context, there is no justification for attending Milan Design Week, especially not by plane. And especially if Milan is actually just good at two things: being barely critical and at the same time creating a kind of design-luxury FOMO.
Is there anything at Milan Design Week that would justify thousands of people traveling, producing, exhibiting, and creating? Well, yes, because between all the hedonism and consumption, there’s an ancient force magically connecting humanity: Beauty. Call me naive, but maybe this force plays a crucial role and can bring together humanity in the fight for a better future.
But first: the beast(s).
This year’s Milan Design Week took place more or less at the same time as of the biggest art events: the Venice Biennale. Since a lot of design-y people see themselves also as artsy people, it made sense that many of them made use of being in Italy already and traveled on to Venice after visiting Milan. We weren’t able to do so, but what we heard from Venice was that many people perceived the Biennial as one of the most political and controversial, hence one of the best. Well, we wish we could say the same about Milan. Year after year, it’s surprising how the creative industry can celebrate its self-proclaimed ability to be innovative while, at the same time, producing mainly mediocre luxury kitsch. And please don’t get me wrong, I love kitsch. But it needs to be either served well dosed and intentionally or naively and over the top. In my opinion, neither was the case.
The off-space Alcova, for example, started some years ago as a cool alternative for independent collectible designers. We visited Alcova right on the opening night. Their main venue, the neo-renaissance Villa Bagatti Valsecchi with its enormous garden and fancy people sipping their Spritzes, reminded us a little too much of a mix between Saltburn and Panem’s high society, not realizing that they are sawing off the branch they are sitting on. In Alcova’s official design shop, we were also surprised to see designs like the Stump Stool – a product one might call at least heavily inspired by the design classic Backenzahn. Doesn’t that speak volumes about Alcova’s approach to design and its value?
A few days later, we visited the Triennale Museum, which is usually one of our favorite things to do at Milan Design Week, to clear our heads a little from all the overstuffed showrooms. In an exhibition of an American furniture brand (which we originally liked a lot), we asked the representatives of the brand why e-v-e-r-y designer they ever worked with was male and super famous. Their answer was shockingly honest: They argued that it’s not a question of gender but of quality. Patriarchy is real after all, people.
But it’s not only the structural components that make Milan Design Week so frustrating at times. It’s also the constant refusal of many manufacturers, especially addressing those who have the money and power, to deal with urgent and political topics. In the end, design is political. Always. Even from a ~marketing~ point of view, for many brands, dealing with design as a complex and political topic would be a good thing. It would definitely be a USP at Milan Design Week.
But also, the coverage around Milan Design Week would benefit from some critical journalism. Maybe we’re just ill-informed, but has anyone read a real critical review of Milan Design Week anywhere? Please, PLEASE!, tell us if you did: contact@thethingmagazine.com
So, do we honestly leave the critical discourse up to Prada? (Which, honestly, kinda makes sense in late capitalism …) Their annual conference “Prada Frames”, curated by Italian design duo Formafantasma, has established itself as one of the most talked-about and thought-provoking events at Milan Design Week, inviting well-known design critics and writers, biologists, designers, and other forms of smart people from all over the world to talk in an exclusive location, with a long queue of people waiting outside because the tickets were already gone after one hour. If you couldn’t get tickets (like us), the conference is now available as a podcast everywhere you listen to your podcasts.
Okay, let’s talk beauty!
Maybe the most striking “thing” in Milan are (disclaimer: kitsch!) the people. I know, this sounds boring and emotional, but it’s true. And after all, we are social creatures and isn’t everything we do and want sooner or later about others?
It’s so nice to randomly stumble into people you haven’t seen since a year or two or to meet new people with interesting perspectives. One of these special social findings definitely was designer Johanna Seelemann. We got introduced to her by a fellow friend (shoutout to Hannah Kuhlmann!) and visited her opening.
Johanna’s solo show at Park Associati Architects showcased interspecies design ideas for the city of Milan. Every piece was as well thought-out as it was executed. Even the little seed bombs she gave away for free to the visitors of the exhibition were shaped like Enzo Mari’s famous panettone roadblocks.
Furthermore, the famous-infamous Swiss design school, ECAL, showcased amazing research work on a cellulose-based material which is 100% biodegradable and astonishingly multifaceted! Eager as they are, they even built a whole website for the project, so have a look.
At the venues of Japanese company Majotae we got enchanted. They brought a whole archive of hemp textiles, a weaving loom, and a weaver (!) to their exhibition at 5VIE (ecologically questionable but excellent storytelling). The story of hemp is an interesting one anyway, as growing or using the plant in Japan was strictly forbidden by the US after WWII. (This could fill another newsletter, in fact.) The exhibition was eerie and calming at the same time.
British company Dzek is on a mission to rebrand Linoleum as a material. Despite being, in fact, a biodegradable product made from materials like linseed oil, cork and sawdust, it has had a bad reputation for its artificial appearance in the past. In 2008, there were only three manufacturers left worldwide. Dzek teamed up with Dutch designer Christien Meindertsma to showcase a giant staircase covered in linoleum tiles. The presentation was refreshingly discreet in the use of material and therefore very contemporary.
In the end, truth is not about either or, but multifaceted. Milan definitely lacks critical positions and reflection and is a big capitalist shit-show at some points. At the same time, the design week can be a place for social exchange, good ideas and community building. In my opinion, these two aspects are not yet in the right proportions, especially considering the problems we as inhabitants of planet earth are facing. But in the end it’s our task as journalists, designers, exhibitors and designers to change this.
xoxo,
Anton
PS: Nina and I are curating “Fokus”, a collectible fair at this year's Vienna Design Week. We chose the topic of “Trash” (of course). The Call for Entries is out now, have a look!