The story of Vitra is not one that is widely known. Yet, as British writer and curator Deyan Sudjic argues, it is a story that needs to be told. His new book, The Anatomy of a Design Company, traces the evolution of the Swiss furniture manufacturer from a modest family business into a cultural force – shaped by a balance of ideology and intuition alongside commercial instinct. Drawing on extensive archival research and conversations with long-time chairman Rolf Fehlbaum, Sudjic unpacks the values, decisions and contradictions that have defined the company over decades.

In conversation with design journalist Ali Morris, Sudjic reflects on authorship, relevance and what it means to be a “design company” in the first place.

Ali Morris: This book has been several years in the making. How did it begin?
Deyan Sudjic: It probably goes back to when I met Rolf Fehlbaum for the first time. I think it was in 1985 or 1986. I hadn’t written a book before, and he was just beginning to make waves for Vitra. Of course I wasn’t thinking about a book then. But we began talking, and I began learning from him. We have kept talking ever since. He helped me when I was editing “Blueprint” by including us in Vitra’s advertising campaign that featured everyone from Grace Jones to Jasper Johns and Spike Lee, as documented in the book. When I was moving the Design Museum in London to its new home designed by John Pawson, Vitra gave us a very generous level of support. There are Bouroullec Alcove sofas, Prouvé armchairs, Artek stools and Citterio desk systems throughout the building – pieces that cultural institutions normally couldn’t afford but which reflect the values I wanted for the museum.

I would occasionally speak to him about his plans for the company and the many projects taking shape around Vitra, such as Zaha Hadid’s Fire Station or the development of a facility to house and display the Vitra Design Museum’s archive.

When I became a full-time writer rather than an editor or a museum director, I thought that it would be interesting to capture as much of Vitra’s many achievements as possible in a single volume, and to make the most of Rolf’s memory as well as the company archive. But he’s not the kind of person who is interested in a biography. I knew from the start that this book was going to be a collaboration. Talking to some of the designers who have worked for Vitra, Jasper Morrison, Antonio Citterio and others, I realised that this book, like many of Vitra’s chairs, is the product of the same kind of dialogue.

What do you think makes Vitra such a unique design company?
Rolf originally wanted to do a book about “the design company”, and I never quite understood what that means. It’s not a phrase you’d use in English. I asked, “Is this going to be a book about Olivetti, IBM, Braun or Apple?” – all of which built identities and culture through design. But this isn’t that book. This is about Vitra.

The early stages of the book were really spent talking to Rolf about what a “design company” meant to him. In his mind, it’s a fascinating combination of cultural responsibility and a shrewd, hard-headed Swiss business sense – a powerful mixture.

Where does that idea come from?
I think it goes back to Rolf’s personal history. He wrote his PhD thesis on the French social theorist Henri de Saint-Simon, who in the early 19th century developed an ideal of society based on socialist principles and technocratic governance. Olivetti was another example of such a community – a company that saw itself as having responsibilities beyond making short-term profit, investing in its workers and giving something back to the community. And that thinking has been embedded in Vitra.

But it’s also important to know that the company was not just Rolf. He’s one part of the story, which actually begins with his parents, who had a very pragmatic understanding of how they needed to respond to what was happening in the world – that shopfitting could not be their only business. They also realised, very smartly, that tariffs would be their downfall if they stayed only in Switzerland, so they set up in Germany. Today, the story continues, with Nora Fehlbaum, as Chairwoman of the Board, representing the third generation of the family that owns the company.

There has always been a sense of needing to keep ahead of things – and a desire to remain relevant. “Relevance” is probably Rolf’s favourite word.

Early on, Vitra was a licensee for Herman Miller. Why did Vitra decide to establish its own identity, rather than simply continuing to distribute others’ designs?
There was some confusion about what Vitra really was until Rolf and [his brother] Raymond took over. The company operated under a series of different names, reflecting the range of its activities. They had enjoyed their biggest success by selling pieces by Charles and Ray Eames. The furniture was manufactured by Vitra, whose own name was invisible. Rolf and Raymond understood that they had to be more than licensee manufacturers and distributors to make it on their own – and that was a major step. They had already started working directly with designers to produce products themselves – with Verner Panton in particular, but also for their own office chair, the Vitramat. It was the route to attracting other talented designers, and building an audience for their work.

The campus has become central to Vitra’s identity. What does it represent?
The Vitra Campus began as a utilitarian production site, and has evolved to become an essential part of its identity. Rolf’s student fascination with 19th-century utopian industrial communities has clearly had an impact on creating a place that embodies the company’s values and serves as a testing ground for new ideas in design, architecture, art and landscape.

It has gone from being a mere workplace to becoming a part of the public realm – a place where people want to spend time. While in the 1980s, Vitra was driven by the positive example set in the past by Adriano Olivetti’s company town Ivrea, Vitra’s campus is now being shaped by a determination to avoid Ivrea’s fate, a UNESCO world heritage site that has lost its sense of purpose.

What surprised you during the research process?
I have followed Vitra for a long time. I would have to say that the research process goes back a lot longer than just the writing of the book. I was there for the opening of Frank Gehry’s museum building in Weil Am Rhein. I enjoyed the lamb barbecued at the opening ceremony for Zaha Hadid’s Fire Station. I was at Documenta 8 in Kassel in 1987, where Rolf Fehlbaum became equally fascinated by the vastly different exhibits of Jasper Morrison and Ron Arad. I can remember discussing whether Jean Prouvé was still a relevant designer before Vitra changed history by putting his work into mass production essentially for the first time. Of course I don’t claim credit for any of these things, but I was surprised and touched when I was working in the archives to find my own name cropping up a few times.

What do you think explains Vitra’s longevity when other design brands have struggled?
Each generation of the Fehlbaums has been ready to make the most of the advantages that family ownership can bring, as well as to avoid the pitfalls. They have mixed financial caution with creative inspiration. Willi and Erika laid the groundwork for much of what still defines Vitra today: expanding beyond shopfitting, building an international business and recognising early on the importance of design partnerships.

Rolf and Raymond built on that foundation. They made Vitra a brand in its own right. They took advantage of the shift in working practices to provide the necessary office tools at a time when society was demanding higher standards for the workplace. And they made Vitra world famous for its work with architecture and design of the highest quality that set the agenda for the industry. Nora Fehlbaum – Willi and Erika’s granddaughter – has taken her own path, dedicating the company to sustainability. It is another version of the same mix of inspiration and astute management that guided her parents and grandparents

And how does it feel to finally see the book in print?
The moment you first hold a book in your hands reminds you how important the analogue world of touch and feel remains. The quality of the images is always stronger in a physical book than on a digital screen. You have the smell of ink on paper and the chance to see your narrative unfold in the sequence you imagined. That is particularly the case with this book, which was conceived as a kind of collage. Interspersed with my relatively chronological narrative, Karen Stein has zeroed in on a number of key moments and projects. Iwan Baan’s extraordinary photographs are another key element in the mix, as is the graphic design of APFEL, who made their own distinctive contribution to the project. They have even managed to insert a gatefold that shows us 24 of the most intriguing chairs in Vitra’s history.