In a Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. As autumn kicks in, he waves goodbye to the sunny season - for now
It was my first time writing a summer column. Fourteen Sundays, fourteen Italian objects, from the condom to the condominium. Each week, we took something ordinary, explored its genesis, and tried to figure out what it might contain as a general lesson about design and the way we live. All fourteen pieces are collected below. As summer now draws to an end, I wanted to share a few final thoughts.
Design is a great way to start a conversation. I followed the reposting of the pieces online and the vast number of comments they generated. They taught me that an object goes on living in the hands of those who use it and argue with it, and that we can learn from that argument. As in natural evolution, these feedback loops can improve design itself – and perhaps also us as designers.
Also, in the middle of the summer, I received a WhatsApp message out of the blue from a glitterati friend. 'Why are you writing?' he started, and then: 'What are you trying to achieve?' It made me reflect on the importance of writing in the world of design. After all, Le Corbusier left some 75 buildings and close to 50 books (it is not obvious to me which caused more damage…). After some thought, I came up with five answers.
One. I was born sufficiently north in Italy that I guess I could not escape the sirens of France - and especially the concept of the intellectuel engagé: the belief that intellectual work should have a social return, that ideas should circulate beyond academic or professional circles.
Two. But there is something more. As a student, I worked with Umberto Eco. One of his books that I particularly love is Opera aperta: the idea that, like nature, our ideas evolve through open-ended feedback loops and continuous transformation. I write about our projects not simply to explain them, but to start a conversation around them.
Three. And ideas, when made public, can become self-fulfilling prophecies. Through discussion, they can activate a coalition of interests around them. This has happened to me before: articles and interviews on urban issues have contributed to preserving or transforming buildings, places, and fragments of cities.
Four. Of course, there is also vanity. Having someone read your words is a small form of recognition, a caress from the crowd. But, like vanity itself, it can be productive: it forces us to reflect on what one could call our 'positioning.' What we are doing, why we are doing it, and ultimately who we are.
Five. Finally, perhaps this is about life itself. My great-aunt, Parisian by adoption and a poet by profession, used to say that only a few things really matter. Her question was: What did I do with my life? Answer: Un peu de conversation… That is what this summer has been. Thank you for the conversation.
'Objectify' - Carlo Ratti's 14 objects
The Mosquito Coil
The humble mosquito coil, a lesson in design, climate and the art of living outdoors.
The Microlino
The tiny Microlino car, a lesson in design, driving and keeping things compact
The condom
The condom, the only piece of industrial design that everyone owns, and no one shows off
The Vibram sole
The Vibram sole, and how it helped the world find its footing
The pedalò
Make way for the pedalò, where 'form follows fun'
The Telepass
Meet the Telepass, the design that ended the toll booth queue
The Campari Soda bottle
The Campari Soda bottle, the design that houses the country's favourite aperitif
The Autogrille
The Autogrill Bridge, Italy’s ubiquitous motorway restaurant chain
The lifeguard's uniform
The lifeguard's uniform through the eyes of the design critic
The condominio
The condominio, the residential solution that stood the test of time – and still tests us
The garden gnome
The garden gnome, the awkward yet ever-present Italian domestic feature
The bucket and spade
Enjoy building on the beach with a classic bucket and spade
The Monoloc
The Monoloc, the omnipresent plastic chair that inspires strong emotions
The Mutti tomato tin
The Mutti tomato tin, a cooking classic in Italy and beyond
About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti
Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.
Carlo Ratti
Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.