Beata Heuman’s New de Gournay Collaboration Is a Love Letter To Mom
Even during Sweden’s famously long and bitter-cold winter, the dining room at Beata Heuman’s 18th-century family farmhouse bursts with life thanks to the hand-painted mural of tulips, lilies, dahlias, and fruit trees–all a nod to flora on the property grounds, much of it planted by her mom. Now, the AD100 designer has teamed up with the British wall covering brand de Gournay to bring that tableau (ever so slightly tweaked) into production. “It’s a love letter to my mother, who lives for her garden,” Heuman says of the collaboration, which also includes Delft Folly, her riff on the classic Dutch blue-and-white tiles. —Hannah Martin
David Netto Updates an Iconic Billy Baldwin Perch
Using carpets as upholstery fabric is, in David Netto’s words, “a very Napoleon III thing.” History, he’s right, brims with examples. Antique kilim chairs come to mind, as does Freud’s couch. “The last person to do this was probably some Rothschild in the 19th century—or maybe Mongiardino,” quips the AD100 designer, who is now giving the technique a fresh twist, covering Billy Baldwin’s iconic slipper chairs in flatweave rugs by Woodard Weave. After acquiring the floor coverings company this past spring, Netto mined its library for stripes and plaids that mirrored the armless geometry of Baldwin’s design. A classic palette of tan, red, and denim-blue, meanwhile, captures a “light and simple American spirit.” That said, he had a multitude of references in mind: the checked interiors of vintage Mercedes-Benz 300 SL cars; the inimitably chic Bice restaurant in Milan, with its tartan flourishes; and, of course, Baldwin’s own interiors. “This chair is always in my head,” says Netto, who has used it in many projects. “We all owe Billy Baldwin so much. This is sort of a thank-you note from me to him.” —Maya Ibbitson
A 1950s Suite of Outdoor Furniture by Vladimir Kagan Is Making a Splash—Again
In what would become an iconic 1970 photo shoot, Slim Aarons snapped a glamorous poolside crowd at Richard Neutra’s Kaufmann House in Palm Springs, California. Some partygoers perched on sinuous midcentury dining chairs. Others reclined on matching chaise longues. The furniture in question? Vladimir Kagan’s 1952 Capricorn collection, crafted out of white powder-coated steel. Difficult to produce, with its combination of sculptural curves and weight-bearing mesh, the series stayed on the market for less than 10 years. Now, the late designer’s brand has revived the coveted set. The new editions debuted at Holly Hunt’s Miami showroom this past December during Design Miami.
When the German-born New Yorker, inspired by the work of Harry Bertoia, first conceived the collection, it was no easy feat to pair swooping silhouettes with precise grids. First he called a shopping-cart manufacturer, thinking they could do what he had in mind. No luck—he would have to order 1,000. Ultimately, he found a fire-escape maker to produce the designs, unveiled at Manhattan’s W. & J. Sloane store.
“It was a modern take on garden furniture, which had previously been more traditional, with florals in cast iron,” says Chris Eitel, director of design and production at Vladimir Kagan Design Group. Even today, he explains, manufacturing was a challenge. But when the team found a specialized Italian metal fabricator, they got to work, tweaking and streamlining the originals for contemporary outdoor living. A three-legged lounge, ever so tippy, was rethought with four supports, retooled with more sculptural swoops. The 10 reissued pieces (the original series comprised some 15) now come in both a deep espresso as well as crema, which mimics Kagan’s favored shade of white. Even the wheels, Eitel notes, “are custom made exactly how Vladimir had originally done it.” —H.M.
Rethinking the Instruments of Our Everyday, Thomas Yang Handcrafts Objects With Something to Say
At his studio in Brooklyn, Thomas Yang displays tools like works of art. Hung from his Shaker-inspired rail system are woodworking planes, hammers, knives, brooms—even the odd kitchen strainer. “There’s something celebratory about the care it takes to mount something on the wall,” the designer reflects on the array of instruments, some of them inherited from his grandfather. “But there’s a utilitarian aspect, too.” These are the implements that, at arm’s reach, he grabs to turn rocks into stools or salvaged wood into seating.
Born in Canada to parents of Taiwanese and Italian descent, Yang first came to New York City to study product design at Parsons. Within a year, however, he found himself disillusioned with the realities of mass manufacturing, in particular its questionable environmental practices. Rather than become a cog in that system, he devoted his undergraduate education to slowing things down and doing more with his own hands. With the help of instructional books and YouTube videos (like one where Japanese carpenters erect a temple), he taught himself old-school furniture making.
Now based out of Liberty Labs Foundation, a shared wood and metal shop in Red Hook, he has access to the basic machinery needed for cutting and milling timber. Otherwise, he explains, “everything is done with hand tools.” For his Fika table, which captured the design world’s attention at the Collectible New York fair last September, Yang scribed a hunk of cherry to perfectly fit atop a river stone, attaching it with nothing more than minuscule metal pins and sprinkling it with flower-shaped silver nails he forged himself.
That conversation between utility and ornament has been part of Yang’s language since he debuted his first full collection at Colony in 2024, after participating in the gallery’s annual residency program. For that series—named Jia-Ciasa after the words for “home” in Taiwanese and Northern Italian dialects—he mined, mostly from memory, the furniture of his youth. Ama, a side chair named for his grandmother, featured a Ming silhouette but with complex, branching joinery at the legs. The Tian Den lighting designs, meanwhile, riff on Taiwanese lanterns, with paper shades coated in beeswax. “I was thinking about the waterproof waxed cups you get at the dentist’s office,” he says. “That fascination led me to ask what else wax could do.”
Yang’s industrial-design background still shows through, lending nuance to the work, which is more than just a straightforward celebration of handicraft. Take his Cross-Section side table: Two carved pieces of wood, transportable via flat pack, click together thanks to concealed metal-ball plunger pins. “I saw a wall-mounted CD player that used these to hold the disk in place,” he explains of the mechanics. It’s everyday sundries like these that captivate him. He dreams, for example, of designing a sink. “I’m really trying to look at ordinary objects as points of diving in.” —H.M.
Junpei Kawaguchi Ties the Knots
Nearly 20 years ago, when the Japanese designer Junpei Kawaguchi was researching weaving materials for his bags, he found his way to Makoto Nagasaki, a master rattan artisan with a small workshop in Shimane prefecture. Nagasaki specialized in hanamusubiami, an Edo-era form of knot making, distinguished by its six-petaled flower shape and made with unpeeled reeds. In accordance with the isshisoden system, the technique had been passed down for generations, so that one person can preserve the craft. When the time came for Nagasaki to appoint a successor, he chose Kawaguchi, who continues to keep tradition alive making these bespoke baskets, now available through the online retailer Abask. Bamboo inserts can transform the vessels into vases for arranging seasonal flora. —H.M.
These stories appears in the AD100 issue. Never miss a story when you subscribe to AD.
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