A Q&A with Libby Sellers

Frieze: Who are your role models in the world of design?

Libby Sellers: Recently, I had the absolute joy of writing a book about women in design. Timed to coincide with the many various centenary celebrations of the suffragette’s ultimate victory, it included an amazing roll call of role models from both historical and contemporary design. Though perhaps the one I return to over and over again, is Eileen Gray. The story that compels me comes not from her remarkable achievements across furniture and architecture, nor that she achieved all this as a self-taught practitioner working in a male dominated industry. Instead the story that I’m obsessed with is borne from the atrocious actions of Le Corbusier and his "furious desire to dirty the walls" of Gray’s modernist masterpiece, E1027. Corbusier could not leave the house alone. He built a smaller cabana next door to keep an eye on his competition. After Gray had abandoned her masterpiece – leaving the house to a series of unfortunate fates, le Corbusier thought nothing of moving in, desecrating the walls with a series of large, sexually graphic coloured frescoes. The house became his obsession. Even Corbusier’s death in 1967 was on the foreshores of the E1027 house. That Gray managed to get under the skin of such a legend as Corbusier, speaks volumes of the kind of lady she was.

How would you distinguish design from fine art? Do you think the categories are changing, becoming more fluid?

Traditionally, the difference between the two has always centred on notions of function and intent. Though even these two seemingly simple concepts are riddled with subjective and layered interpretations.

In his 1993 essay "Its Hard to Find a Good Lamp" Donald Judd argued that it is the intentions of the creator that defines whether a work is art or design, not form or function. While Scott Burton believed there were no differences between his sculptures and furniture, only a distinction between the artist who conceived the work and the craftspeople who executed it. Between these two extremes, rests all manner of concepts that have done much to blur the long standing and occasionally controversial relationship between art and design.

If there is a schism, it owes much to the residual influence of the Modern Movement’s ideals and axioms. Prior to the 1930s objects were rarely just about function. They were made to also carry specific cultural, subjective, spiritual or poetic messages; witness the work of Art Nouveau or the Arts and Crafts Movement which did much to equalise the hierarchies between disciplines and reappraise the role of applied arts in society as a whole. Meanwhile generations of artists have readily and deftly transcended the design art boundaries - from Matisse through the abstract vocabulary of the Constructivists and Suprematists through to the De Stijl artists and the early years at the Bauhaus. There were many reasons for doing so, not least the opportunities afforded by new materials, processes and forms but also the chance these works offered to engage with a new audience. 

Yet in championing an economy of materials, a defined ideal of functionality as informed by industrial production and commercial restraints and their complete rejection of self-expression, the Modern Movement challenged all this. Over recent years we’ve seen a return to works that are imbued with all the subjectivity, expressiveness and autonomy previously held as the preserve of art. These can be seen in part as a reaction against the emotional poverty of the Modernist legacy and a reaffirmation that design is more than just utility. Yet what these works show is that no cultural endeavour can be neutral.

How did this exhibition with Collective Design come about?

As part of Frieze New York’s mission to collaborate with other creative disciplines and organisations, Collective Design were the natural partner for the fair’s first-ever exhibition dedicated to design. The invitation to me was to work with Collective to help define and develop their initial ideas. As a design historian, writer and curator for fairs, institutions and galleries alike, I was perhaps uniquely positioned to respond to the requirements of that challenge.

The early ideas from Collective Design’s Creative Director Steven Learner were centred on the theme of color across both art and design – an enormous topic that has different connotations for both disciplines. With that in mind, I needed to find a common ground that embraced works suitable for the fair. “Frieze-friendly” was an early, oft-cited mantra.

Tell us about the exhibition’s theme: Color and Production: From the Atom to the Void’
Color straddles and disturbs the boundaries between disciplines. From tradition through modernity to contemporary art practice, it has gone through cycles of use, abuse, negation and endorsement. Though in design, and particularly industrial design, color has historically been treated as the last flourish, the final decision in a long line of decisions. I didn’t want to reduce design to a conversation about styling so needed be careful with my choices.

Meanwhile, the study of materials is central to design practice and history, yet has conventionally been side-lined in critical art theory. Though as artists, scholars, critics and curators turn their attention to the ‘stuff of this world,’ materiality is once again gaining in traction. It seemed fitting to give agency back to color by treating it as a prime material – and so I sought works in which the color’s production was central to the rational of the work.

The exhibition’s subtitle – From the Atom to the Void – is a reference to the writings of Democritus, the ancient Greek philosopher and one of the founders of ancient atomist theory. While Democritus’ views created a schism between the arts and science, this exhibition seeks to unify them by bringing together works by historical and contemporary designers and artists who are distinguished by their use of color and the techniques used to achieve them.

Building on my early research into color, the exhibition loosely traces technological developments of color across new materials and processes – from the petrochemical industries to electrification – to explore how forces of production can influence creative practice. The exhibition also looks to contemporary practitioners such as Tanya Aguiniga and Formafantasma who are reacting against, or making commentary on, our petrochemical reliance and are instead turning to alternative, natural and pre-industrial sources for their work.

The shift of the exhibition online forced a significant rearrangement of the consigned works. However with luck it continues the trajectory from Color theories through pigments, matter, inert gasses, manufactured materials, new digital technologies and the contemporary return to nature

You’ve been a curator of a museum as well as a gallery. Did you have a specific approach for curating an exhibition for a contemporary art fair and its audiences?
Both experiences have taught me the importance of balancing the academic, commercial and practical in drawing up a wishlist of exhibits. As this is a curated exhibition of works consigned by a number of European, American and South American galleries we were reliant on their support. The availability and location of works were obvious criteria. Though the galleries went above and beyond in contributing to a well-rounded exhibit list; working with me to understand the nuances of their respective inventories and making valued suggestions for available works. When it became necessary to shift the physical fair to the online platform, Frieze Viewing Room, we were again grateful for the support of the consigning galleries.

How did you select the artists and objects, which stories and elements were you keen to represent?
The history of color in art and design mirrors the scientific developments of pigments and their commercial marketing, the advances in petrochemical industries to distribute and stabilise color, the advances of electronic and digital media digital and production. Once this had been plotted and the key advocates (or adversaries) of this trajectory were identified, it was a matter of developing a rapport with galleries for the consignments. Perhaps the trajectory was as rational as the objective – but it has led me on a silk route journey through color.

What are your personal highlights of the exhibition?
This is an unfair question… I’m thrilled we have secured works by Josef Albers, Bruno Munari, David Batchelor and Hella Jongerius – each of which enables conversations about color theory and the changing perceptions of color in both art and industry. Despite knowing very little of the genre, I was determined to include an illuminated manuscript as an exemplar of pigment use and was fortunate to have an excellent guide in Keegan Goepfert of Les Enluminures. I’ve been a long admired of the works of Brazilian-born Lucia Koch and also Mexican textile artist Tanya Aguiniga, the latter of which is making us a new work that draws on the ancient use of cochineal for its colorant (a very appropriate contemporary compliment to a work we also have by legendary textile artist Sheila Hicks). I’m excited to revisit the work of Formafantasma – the Italian design duo based in Amsterdam who’s work looks at design’s ecological and political responsibilities and also Martino Gamper – another Italian based in London – who’s spirit and enthusiasm radiates from his work.

What are your tips for someone starting to collect design objects?
Knowledge is key here. Without understanding why the object exists or what makes it covetable there is little value to the collection beside a monetary one. Like all forms of collecting, it is this hunt that drives someone on.

From market stalls, to galleries, designer’s studios, fairs and auction houses; from obscure antiques, to the debut creations of recently graduated designers, to one-off works from living legends and the iconic remnants of previous eras – the opportunities to collect design are as varied as the types of design available to collect. Similarly varied is the nomenclature describing what we collect. ‘Rare’, ‘unique’, ‘limited edition’, ‘prototype’ and ‘artist’s proof’ are among the many labels ascribed to collectible design, each one signifying something very different. Understanding these nuances of provenance, type and definition and the implications each one brings to a design collection is paramount.

Just as a museum curator follows an acquisition policy and assesses the value of a work before committing to it, so too do many collectors. It is a consideration of output, value and the contribution this designer or object has made to the contemporary culture – and what that could add to a collection. While many collectors buy an object to serve its intended purpose, increasingly collectors are acquiring works with an agenda that goes beyond the needs of functionality or interior decoration. Not only does this reflect an appreciation of design’s dual role as both functional item and a vessel for expressivity, subjectivity and narrative (previously seen as the preserve of art), it is also symptomatic of the changes coming from within the industry: the growing tendency for design to be an observation on its own production, or its own environment. Concomitantly there has been a shift away from the finite secondary (or second hand) market towards a primary market, attracting a newfound focus from designers, collectors and the industry alike.

Design infiltrates every aspect of our lives: from the alarm clock that stirs us, through the kettle that helps prepare us for the outside world’s complex systems of signage and transport, to the advanced technologies and infrastructures that facilitate both work and play. Can we talk of collecting design when, really, we all consume it on a daily basis in all manner of guises? Yet a mindful accumulation of designed objects that have been chosen to tell a story or stories – of the makers, of the production, of their time or of its owner – does qualify as a collection; a curated collection of objects that is larger than the sum total of its parts and which creates an environment or narrative that speaks both to us and of us.

What else are you working on right now?
I’m looking forward to getting back to the books I’m writing (one of the cultures of collecting) and writing a treatment for a film as follow up to Women Design. Though like many currently under lock-down, I’m also just looking forward to spending a lot of time catching up with friends and family.