Why it is difficult and not difficult to justify the designer Philippe Starck
Philippe Starck is not only one of the most famous designers of the present day, he is also certainly one of the most controversially discussed. This concerns both the often conspicuous appearance of his designs and the person and brand Starck as well. But are the criticisms justified?
The French designer Philippe Starck, who already achieved world fame in the early eighties with commissions for the Élysée Palace and, by 1984 at the latest, with the unusual interior of the Paris Café Costes, continually surprises. He designed everything from a toothbrush to an interface to a yacht. Some of his works are characterized by unusual combinations of materials: In 2014, for example, he developed an e-bike series equipped with fur covers to protect the related batteries in cold outside temperatures. In 1994 his portable TV set “Jim Nature” for the company Saba was released, made of a plastic frame and pressed wood panelling.
Many of his designs seem to recall a modernized Art Deco. They highlight visually striking features, yet appear reduced in their materiality and form, and have a more sculptural character overall.
It is unmistakably clear that Starck’s products are intended to evoke personal feelings, which today is often described as emotional design (despite the fact that, the other way round, non-emotional design can never exist, because every perceived thing triggers some emotion in us, even though they often go unnoticed).
Since Starck is particularly active in the consumer goods sector, there is also the risk of evaluating his oeuvre as a marketing-driven result: things you buy because they scream for attention, because they look “kind of cute” or “stylish”, even though you may already own them in another, more efficient version. In short: because they awaken unknown desires of possession in us.
One of Starck’s most famous designs, the Juicy Salif lemon squeezer, created in 1990 for the Italian design distributor Alessi, clearly illustrates this claim. It is neither space-saving nor functional: the lemon juice likes to flow along the glass you positioned underneath. Some users complain about damaged tabletops due to the sharp feet. The squeezer does not look like a typical kitchen tool at all.
Even the history of its creation reveals that it appears to be more of an art object suitable for the masses: the designer sat in an ordinary pizzeria, ate squid with drizzled lemon on it and suddenly had an inspiration that he sketched directly on his stained napkin and presented it in this form to the client. Unthinkable for famous German function-oriented designers like Dieter Rams, Otl Aicher or Hans Gugelot.
From this example alone, the main reason for all the discussions about this object and the designer himself can probably be generated — especially from the perspective of a German design perspective, which likes to refer to the parameters of function and technology. Sympathizers of the Bauhaus and the Ulm School of Design would never admit in interviews that they have no idea of beauty [Cf. Der Spiegel 16/1987, p. 241], and they would not even claim that Design is actually “completely regardless” to them. [Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin 16/2009] When Philippe Starck even describes his entire oeuvre as “unnecessary” [Die Zeit 14/2008] — as a failed artist, who nevertheless continues as before — , there is surely no getting around the impression of carefully used dramatization tricks. “Unnecessary” could rather be the first anniversary edition of Juicy Salif in gold (yes, there are several anniversary editions existing so far), which was supplemented by a note that this product should not be used for squeezing lemons to avoid acid damage on the surface. And that’ s the same with Starck: every answer that this incarnation of a modern design artist makes in interviews is surprising.
These design elements are also revealed during the use of the products: Juicy Salif, for example, fulfills its functional condition to just be considered as a lemon squeezer only to a necessary minimum. Instead, however, it raises the practical action to a maximum, aesthetic experience. The daily (and here again manual!) act of squeezing lemons, the following consumption of food, is theatrically staged and receives a level of attention that it would not normally deserve.The object is neither small nor practical and easily stowed away — it is large, striking and wants to be seen. Both by its user, who has to perform all actions with full awareness (in a self-communicative way), and by its “audience”, who is standing in the kitchen while the performance takes place and carefully participates in it (are there many more elegant ways to present yourself?). In this way, the household object is given a variety of unique, narrative functions.
Philippe Starck comments:
“This is not a very good lemon squeezer. But function is not everything. I simply had a typical wedding gift in mind. Just imagine: The young husband’s parents come to the new apartment for the first visit. Father and son make themselves comfortable in front of the TV with a beer, and while the daughter-in-law and mother-in-law chat in the kitchen, the young wife shows the lemon squeezer and says: ‘Look what we got…’ “
[Philippe Starck, quoted by Morgan 1999, p. 9].
From this point of view, Philippe Starck’s political and social intentions, which he pursues under the terms of non design and democratic design, for example, are now easier to understand. With the former (“non design”) the designer tries to turn against blind consumption, against capitalism and against a life that is determined by the purchase of goods — but without trying to propagate a renunciation of consumption. [Cf. Morgan 1999, p. 28ff.]
Instead, Starck praises the anonymous, the immaterial, and — this is what the second term (“democratic design”) means — that which is available to all people. Irony? Yes and no. Starck’s products do not go quite as far as Van Bo Le Mentzel’s Hartz IV self-made furniture, for example. Some of Starck’s products are supposed to be cheap and of high quality, and thus make “good design” possible for everyone (similar to IKEA or once the Bauhaus, with whose guiding principles Starck consciously aligned himself [Cf. Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin 16/2009]. They should provide pleasure and enrich day-to-day life through their use. Like the Lazy Working Sofa or the Dr. Kiss toothbrush (both 1998), they should become meaningful to the users, giving them love that they have lost in their materialistic world: [Cf. Morgan 1999, p. 33].
“I designed this toothbrush because normally no one thinks about toothbrushes. Everyone needs one, and yet they are all equally boring. I thought that the sight of a cheerful, colorful object […] should have a similarly positive effect as a bath with a view over a blooming summer landscape.”
[Philippe Starck, quoted by Morgan 1999, p. 11]
Aesthetics and quality as a guarantee of narrative confidence. The products do not only have to work and be pleasant or enjoyable to use (as is often proclaimed in user experience design, for example). Starck’s products are intended primarily for users with the desire to satisfy their higher needs: People who already have everything, who are tired of everyday life and want to optimize it with small festivities. People who are tired of ordinary consumption, who are looking for pleasant surprises and stories. These people, for example, are no longer interested in whether they own an e-bike or a living room sofa, but in which one. By doing so, they still participate in consumption, but receive products with which they are probably developing a closer relationship.
Thus, the designs and also the person Starck can be seen as ambivalent — polarizing things often seem to be the most successful anyway. No matter whether you have a negative attitude towards the designer and blame him, such as Mateo Kries, director of the famous Vitra Design Museum, who accuses him of participating in the establishment of an inflationary design term (designer shoes, nail design, hair design, business design, etc.), [Cf. Kries 2010, p. 53] or whether you see in him a savior within our saturated consumer society who brings joy to everyday life — all this seems to remain in the end rather a question of perspective.
What a luxury to be able to argue about how to squeeze lemons properly.
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Further Information:
Der Spiegel 16/1987: „Ich will die Intelligenz beliefern“ — Der rasche Aufstieg des Designers Philippe Starck, S. 241. Online available at: http://magazin.spiegel.de/EpubDelivery/spiegel/pdf/13522335 [10th October 2020], p. 240–245.
Die Zeit 14/2008: „Ich schäme mich dafür“. Online available at: http://www.zeit.de/2008/14/Designer-Starck-14/komplettansicht [10th October 2020].
Kries, Mateo: Total Design. Die Inflation moderner Gestaltung, Berlin 2010.
Morgan, Conrad Lloyd: Starck. Wurzeln, an dem Punkt, an dem keine weitere Teilung mehr möglich ist, Schopfheim 1999.
Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin 16/2009: Philippe Starck: „Dem Design fehlt Idealismus und Moral“. Online available at: http://sz-magazin.sueddeutsche.de/texte/anzeigen/28948/2/1 [10th October 2020].
