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/ Super Normal

Fukasawa, too, converts an existing form, conventionally associated exclusively with a certain material (wood), into a Super Normal object, through his idiosyncratic choice of a new, unconventional material. And this is where the difference between the normal and Super Normal product becomes apparent: Super Normal refers to the normal—in the sense of adopting a familiar form and aesthetic—without being “normal” itself and merely availing itself of traditional shapes, materials or production techniques. It is precisely the conscious distance the Super Normal object maintains from its precursors that can become a subtle signal. The shape of Morrison’s electric kettle for Rowenta, for instance, resembles an electrified jug—we recognize it instantly from everyday encounters with jugs or from Morandi’s still lifes; we can operate it intuitively, and its grace coupled with super normality even manages to compensate for its technical deficiencies. (Rowenta’s production was so shoddy that neither the process of turning it on nor the automatic shut off were as efficient as in much uglier specimens of this product type!)

The traditional sign repertoire of both Western and Asian design, we learn from this project, can become the signpost for contemporary and future generations of designers, but only if they are not under the sway of the superficial adaptation of formalities. All this has nothing to do with retrogressive design. Rather, Jasper Morrison speaks openly of the “loss of innocence” separating today’s designers from the craftsmen and artisans of previous centuries. They manufactured objects for everyday use—a ladle, an axe, a saddle—without seeking to express themselves or their age, or even to hold their ground against the products of the competition or forgeries. Yet Morrison and Fukasawa work for many large, international companies, without whose production and distribution facilities no industrial design would be conceivable. There is no question that these two designers are conscious of contemporary market mechanisms, marketing strategies and production conditions. Not even Super Normal design can take place in an ivory tower, or abandon itself to sentimentalities. It has to take the market into account in order to make an impact. But instead of resorting to cheap tricks or exalted gestures, that impact can only be achieved through sophisticated forms and details that clearly reveal the fruitful legacy of traditions and progenitors in design history.

In addition to anonymous design, such as the Swiss Rex peeler or a simple plastic bag, the collection includes design classics like Max Bill’s wall clock for Junghans, the 606 shelving system by Dieter Rams, or Colombo’s Optic alarm clock of 1970. With products by Newson, Grcic, Van Severen or the Bouroullec brothers, Morrison and Fukasawa also present the work of their own generation. Thus the selection does not simply celebrate “ordinary design,” which engineers are so fond of organizing; it does not romanticize a certain decade of design or an idiom that typifies the products of a given country—and it does not focus on mere topicality, exclusivity, or the costliness of the products. The phenomenon of Super Normal is therefore placed outside time and space; both the past and the present of product design point in equal measure to a future that has long since begun. Quite obviously, the two men are not concerned with studies and utopian models: Super Normal is already there, out in the open; it exists in the here and now; it is real and available. We have only to open our eyes: Fukasawa and Morrison visualize it for us.