Casual Presence

Describing the Swiss designer, Alfredo Häberli’s impact on design is no easy feat. It is best illustrated by tracing the sinuous lines of his iconic “Take a Line for a Walk” chair. Originally conceived in 2003 for the esteemed Italian manufacturer Moroso, this design invites one to teeter on the edge of innovation while maintaining an unwavering poise.

Häberli’s work embodies a harmonious blend of playful elegance and pragmatic functionality, elevating a mere sketch into a timeless design statement. Yet, beneath this effortless grace lies a relentless dedication to perfection. Häberli, despite his amiable demeanor, is a consummate perfectionist, driven by an unyielding commitment to excellence. His path to prominence began with a transformative sojourn to Milan, where he was captivated by the enchanting world of design. It was there that he resolved to carve his niche in this creative realm, a decision that ultimately led to the establishment of his eponymous studio, Alfredo Häberli Design Development, in 1991. Since then, Häberli has left an indelible mark on the design landscape, crafting a myriad of innovative products, orchestrating captivating interior compositions, and curating thought-provoking exhibitions.

In his newly released opus, “Alfredo Häberli: Verbal Doodling / 30 Years, Questions, Answers”, published by Scheidegger & Spiess, Zurich, the maestro himself offers an intimate glimpse into his journey, chronicling not only his evolution as a designer but also the clandestine workings of the design universe. Through engaging dialogue, he imparts his philosophy on design, divulges his wellsprings of inspiration, and pays homage to the luminaries who have shaped his artistic vision. In the realm of design, Alfredo Häberli reigns supreme, his creations serving as a testament to the enduring fusion of innovation, functionality, and unwavering passion.

SFK    You’ve emphasized the importance of paying close attention to the outside world. You once said that observation is the most beautiful form of thinking. How does this observation factor into the design process?

AH    This statement stems from a linguistic limitation. In my daily life, I’m constantly observing and almost filming everything. I much prefer observing to talking. I’ve noticed that observing stimulates my thinking. The more closely I observe, the more answers I receive. Observing the world helps me understand something. Only much later do I transfer these images into the realm of design. Sometimes, I need this visual language with clients to explain an idea

SUSANNA KOEBERLE    In your book, youvividly describe your first personal encounter with Enzo Mari. Back then, you had the bold ambition to curate an exhibition about him and another significant designer for you, Bruno Munari, at the Museum of Design in Zurich. You simply ventured to Milan and rang his doorbell. However, instead of a warm welcome, you received a stern admonition from him: he believed that you weren’t yet entitled to call yourself a designer since you hadn’t grasped the world of design sufficiently. So, my question is: “When did you truly feel like a designer for the first time? Or, to put it another way: When did you define yourself as a designer?”

ALFREDO HÄBERLI    I would say it was when a product was manufactured for the first time based on my designs. About four or five years after opening my studio, I designed several objects for Driade. It was only then that I understood the complexity of this process and truly felt like a designer. I believe one can also only call oneself an architect once something has been built.

SK    I was surprised by your statement in one of the texts that it’s important to know who you are and what you want in order to work freely. Could you elaborate on that?

AH    I realized during my studies how crucial it is to take a stance with your work, similar to what an artist must do when faced with a blank canvas. When I design a door handle, for example, I have to discover what interests me about it. While we designers create products, fundamentally, the design reflects who we are. It doesn’t really matter if you’re making a chair or a carpet; it’s always a reflection of yourself. Questions like: “What fascinates me? What annoys me?” Knowing yourself also means knowing your strengths and weaknesses. Whenever I mentor a student, I always ask: “What’s your hobby? What’s your passion?” As a designer, one should not simply conform to expectations.

SF    Magazines in the fields of architecture, design, and art have long been a significant source of inspiration for you. You have a whole collection of old issues in your studio. What do they mean to you?

AH    The printed media opened up entire worlds for me. They were my initial resources of ideas. In the 1980s, these magazines were the only source of information, and sometimes there were no books on these topics yet. I often traveled to these images—sometimes many years later. That’s how fascinated I was by them.

SF    While you travel extensively, your studio also seems to be an adventurous cabinet of curiosities that reflects all your passions. What significance do these spaces hold for you?

AH    My studio is where I spend the most time. I need traveling to stay in the flow. But when I return to my studio, I disconnect from the outside world. I need this back and forth to work creatively.

SF    When you were invited as a guest of honor to the Interieur fair in Kortrijk in 2006, you invited Swiss artists to interpret your work photographically, among other activities. What did you expect from this exchange?

AH    This exhibition was a big deal; I got to occupy 5000 square meters of space. But I didn’t just want to showcase my own work. I also brought 280 objects from the collection of the Museum für Gestaltung Zürich to show that Switzerland has a design history that few abroad are familiar with. There are also great artists. I selected seven of them, some more well-known than others. This also resulted in a book. It was fascinating to see what they did with my objects.

SF    An important figure for you is the Italian designer Bruno Munari (1907 – 1998). You curated an exhibition about him in 1995, titled “Far vedere l’aria.” What fascinates you about his work? And what interests you about curating exhibitions?

AH    First, regarding the last question: During my studies, I approached Martin Heller, the former director of the Museum für Gestaltung Zürich, and asked if they had a job for me. Initially, I was able to work as an exhibition scenographer and learned a tremendous amount there. This later evolved into curatorial work. I suggested Bruno Munari as a theme for the museum. From Munari, I not only learned Italian but also how to convey complex ideas simply. He worked a lot with children and always questioned existing traditions without being negative. That’s a strategy I still apply in design today.

SF    Let’s talk about your own work. Although you’ve designed a wide range of things, there’s still a recognizable signature or at least a similar approach and attitude to your work. If you had to choose a design that best embodies your work, which would it be?

AH    I would spontaneously mention the “Kids’ Stuff” tableware for Iittala from 2003. Why exactly? When our son Luc was born, I could observe how children interact with things.They want everything that adults have. With small interventions, I adapted the tableware and cutlery to their needs. I consciously didn’t rely on clichéd childishness or crude comedy. I even received postcards from children thanking me for those designs.

SF    In the design world, the carousel is spinning faster and faster. More and more is being produced, even though we know that reduction would be necessary, especially in light of the climate crisis. How do you, as a designer, deal with this?

AH    It saddens me that the world I discovered in Milan back then no longer exists today. Many companies that I admire have been sold. It’s all about revenue and growth now. Which goes against my grain. It also saddens me that stores always want to see new things, even though existing designs are good. It’s hard to stay true to yourself in this situation. It takes courage to be honest and to not deny yourself. But I don’t want to sound bitter. I want to look ahead. My areas of activity are very diverse; I don’t have to follow any trends.

When the designer leads the visitor through his studio, every movement, whether taking magazines, models, or prototypes from the shelf, reveals that Häberli’s enthusiasm springs from genuine curiosity. It’s the creativity with which children instinctively encounter the world; like when they combine things that don’t belong together and create something new. The constant search for the creative reconfiguration of the inner and outer worlds also characterizes the casual presence of Alfredo Häberli’s work.