Ron Arad: No Discipline
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Cages sans Frontières, an undulating Mobius ribbon of fabric covered steel, hangs literally and figuratively over the Ron Arad exhibit, No Discipline at the MoMA through October 19th. Winding its way through the a precisely-lit room on the back of the 6th floor, the shelf/sculpture serves as showcase for some 100-plus pieces of the celebrated Israeli designer’s furniture-as-art (or is it the other way around?). Polished steel chairs and glossy silicone surfaces caught and scattered the spotlights from above, such that the whole room felt like a gallery show channeled through “A Space Odyssey.” Between the high contrast lighting and the amorphous forms, we found it difficult to take any subdued photographs. Both the show and the items within were truly works of art … and for an ostensible industrial designer, perhaps that’s the problem. Rather than include explanatory plaques next to the items on display the exhibit offered four-sheet pamphlets with short descriptions of each of the items on display. Under the description of the Cage sans Frontières in five point type are the words “Private collection.” Not only was the furniture in private hands, but even the armature on which it was displayed was considered worthy of acquisition. Devoid of any obvious function outside of the exhibit, I can only imagine that it was purchased as, well, art.
Given the high prices his work tends to sell for and the general visibility of Arad as a design figurehead, it’s tempting to make a straw man of him by observing just how far his indulgent one-offs (also the name of his studio) are from the democratization of design. Given our current economic climate, it’s easy for us to look back upon the bombast of Arad’s work, apply a price tag, and experience something between revulsion and regret. It’s also not entirely fair. Accompanied by the throngs of spectators, studio lighting, hardwood floors, and yes, the Cage sans Frontières, Arad’s work is often indulgent, frequently decadent and quite consistently gorgeous. Whether custom-pigmented fiberglass, 3-D prints, hand welded steel and 20-piece editions could ever be called industrial design might be missing the point. Arad is doing something closer to haute couture; his medium just happens to be steel. So rather than quibble about the ethics of high design or whether thirty years of work is enough to warrant a retrospective, a far better way to spend the afternoon would simply be to let go of any thorny-preconceptions and simply enjoy the show.
Fortunately, the layout and content of the exhibit allow for a pleasant journey. Because the editions tend to be extremely limited, Arad’s work has never been assembled in one place before. Consequently, visitors are treated to originals of the pieces that made his reputation like the broken corners of his “Concrete Stereo” turntable and its accompanying hi-fi components. The found object “Rover Chair” is here too, discarded Rover V8 2L car seats attached to tubular frames. Perhaps here the object as couture trend is most typified since it was Jean Paul Gaultier’s early purchase of the chairs that put him on the map. As found objects, they were bound to be limited since the supply of discarded Rover seats was finite, but their only production run as a “mass produced” Vitra product is arguably more absurd: a polished or rusted all-steel version that looks like it came out of Jeff Koons’ workshop.
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