Museums are popularly associated with Pasts. In their current exhibition the Grassi Museum für Angewandte Kunst, Leipzig, concern themselves with Futures, specifically with the Material and Design of Tomorrow.......
There can be little argument, OK given the contemporary state of what passes for global discourse there can be an awful lot of very virulent argument, backed up with aggressive online trolling and the fabrication of ever new edicts of and on a ephemeral, fickle, 'truth', but in theory there can be little argument, should be little argument, that one of the primary drivers that has brought human society and the planet we all rely on to their current states of reality is the choices we've made in context of the materials we use for our objects of daily use.
And there can be, should be, equally similarly little argument of the necessity and urgency of questioning how we employ the materials we have and where, and how, we could employ alternative, and/or novel, materials in their place.
Alternative materials such as the spent coffee grounds, sunflower seeds, lignin or biocement one meets in Futures. Material and Design of Tomorrow's chapter Ready Made Future and its discussions on, and introductions to, the great many alternative materials that already exist, and in cases of materials such as, for example, seaweed or the hemp employed by Leipzig based FUSE Composites for a unidirectional tape, a fundamental component of providing strength to lightweight constructions of the type, in all probability, we will increasingly rely on, have been used by humans for centuries. Or perhaps better put, and as previously discussed in context of the hemp felt employed in the chair Moa by Roberta Wende as seen at Design Without Borders 2024, were used centuries ago before being replaced by some of the materials that are at the root of so many of our contemporary social and environmental malaises.
And alternative materials that for all they may be from the past, are currently proposing alternative futures.
Alternative future propositions that invariably began life as, and in many regards still are, the speculative projects of the sort presented in Futures' chapter Material Lab, a space primarily occupied by projects undertaken by students at Burg Giebichenstein Halle, Freie Universität Bozen, Hochschule Anhalt Dessau, Weissensee Kunsthochschule Berlin and the TU Dresden. A Material Lab that introduces, amongst a great many other projects and materials, Bones Glass by Ella Einhell that explores the use of bone waste from the industrial meat industry in a contemporary take on the milky white bone glass of Middle Ages' Venice; the Companion Wear jacket by Camille von Gerkan, a jacket made from hemp, that, certainly for us, stands as a further reinforcing of the argument that we in Europe need to find our way back to hemp, and flax, and not just as materials for objects of daily use but on account of the myriad uses and functions, physical, social, environmental, economic the crops offer; or FungInsect by Louis Steinhauser which employs the symbiotic relationship between the fungi Grosmannia penicillata and the European spruce bark beetle, Ips typographus, to attract beetles to, essentially, a trap where a second fungi, Cordyceps militaris, feeds off the larvae, thereby encouraging populations of a Cordyceps militaris that produces a number of medically interesting and important compounds while simultaneously helping counter the rise and rise and rise of an Ips typographus that causes enormous damage to European spruce forests. Ips typographus stimulated damage that, as noted in context of Beetlechair by Alexander von Dombois, global warming means will increasingly become an even greater problem than it currently is. Thus necessitating defence mechanisms beyond the cooling of the atmosphere we've yet to begin implementing, and without which the future will be a much more short-term project than it once was.
Alternative future propositions that also include, somewhat inevitably, the eating of insects, that, as oft noted in these dispatches, most recently in context of the analogue apple ring drying rack Second Season by Ebba Lönn, design students have been trying to establish as a thing in Europe for more years than we care to remember, and which we don't believe will ever become a thing in Europe. Specifically the Material Lab presents the project Dumpling Workshop by Janusz Elmi Sarabi which proposes a series of international cooperative cooking workshops as the basis for encouraging and stimulating the use of insects as a filling for dumplings, a foodstuff that exists globally in an untold number of regional variations, is, as noted from al dente: Pasta & Design at the HfG-Archiv, Ulm, a member of the family of flour and water based Teigwaren products on which (more or less) all cultures depend, and thus a genuinely interesting format for trying to stimulate and motivate Europeans to eat insects that represent a genuinely future orientated food source for our troubled continent. Even if we believe that attempt will ultimately be unsuccessful. And which thus allows edible insects to stand proxy as a reminder that proposals for the future aren't the future, futures are decided by how the present responds to the proposals for the now. Thus reminding of that responsibility we needs must all take a little more seriously.
And a Material Lab also populated by Netherlands based studios Envisions and Klarenbeek & Dros: the former with their Archive of the Future, a collaboration with the TextileLab at the Textile Museum, Tilburg, seeking to develop new processes and techniques from and in traditional textile crafts, the latter with their Polyspace project that, and summarising more than is prudent but which restrictions of time and space demand, 3D prints mixtures of algae, seaweed and mycelium to create furniture. A project that we first came across in context of the exhibition Mimesis. A Living Design at the Centre Pompidou-Metz, and which, as can be seen in Futures, results in formal expressions with a very clear echo of the more florid dialects of Art Nouveau, and which in doing so, reminds both of the relationships between Art Nouveau and the natural world, and also that nature often has the best answers, nature often offers, to paraphrase the title of one of Futures' chapters, a Ready Made Future. But that far too often humans are far too clever to appreciate that.
Or, more normally, and as previously discussed by and from, and amongst other locations, Plant Fever. Towards a Phyto-centred design at Schloss Pillnitz, Dresden or Garden Futures. Designing with Nature at the Vitra Design Museum, Weil am Rhein, are too busy trying to harness and control nature rather than seeking equitable cooperations with nature.
Which bring us back to that responsibility we all take too lightly, and the fact that futures are always decided in and by the present.
Considerations you can expand on in Future's chapter What If... with its collection of speculative futures.
Speculative futures that for all many of them, arguably, have become even more speculative in recent weeks than they in any case were when developed, still serve that important multi-layered function, as discussed at Stockholm Design Week 2025 from the Konstfack University semester project Future Food Product Service Systems in 2060 — which, yes, did also include eating insects, specifically mealworms — of enabling us to better approach future-orientated solutions while simultaneously reflecting on both the now in which we're formulating the questions we need to pose and on the path taken from then that has led us to the need for novel solutions by way of solving contemporary problems.
Speculative futures such as , for example, London based studio Superflux's short film The Intersection which reflects on relationships between technology and society, the basis of those relationships, the consequences of those relationships and the possibilities, and desirabilities, of reshaping those relationships: Vienna based Alexandra Fruhstorfer's Making Oddkin which imagines a future in which we not only share our homes with non-human species, but design our homes with and for the flora and fauna that also occupy our urban spaces, and which has echoes of Front's Design by Animals research with its rat gnawed wall paper, from ants engraved furniture et al, if a little more welcoming for nature, makes less direct demands of nature. An echo of Design by Animals also to be heard in Fraßspuren by Julia Rhein to be found in the chapter Ready Made Future and its use of the trails left by the aforementioned Ips typographus as an non-ornamental graphic element, and which through using such also stimulates thoughts on the complexity of our relationships with the natural world, a complexity we always, but always, underestimate. Or Apocalyptic Optimists by Zürich based Juliana Schneider, a manifesto that arose in context of Juliana's wider research project Designing for More than Human Futures, and that greets visitors to Futures as a series of flags that proclaim a future that is Interdependence, Multispecies, Care, Collaboration, Resilience, Hope, Resurgence, Symbiosis, More than Human.
As noted, a few short months ago that all sounded much, much less speculative.
And a "More than Human" that is one of those decisions we needs must make today, more specifically the defining of what is a "more than human" future? ¿A "more than human" future as understood as one that is humans at one with the non-human fauna, flora and natural environment as approached in Alexandra's Making Oddkin, or as understood in context of the AI robotics, cyborgs, networked smart technology, delivery drones, algorithms, et al as approached, and moved away from, in Superflux's The Intersection? ¿Are those two "more than human" futures compatible or inherently mutually exclusive?
And a defining of what a "more than human" future is that requires us all to not only reflect more on the issues at hand and how one formulates the necessary questions, nor only to reflect on what the future is, how the future arises, but also to ensure our voices are heard above the uncouth shouting of social media.
With its mix of projects, positions, possibilities, perils and pasts, Futures is an approachable, pleasingly structured and stimulating environment in which to become more active in such processes.
Making intelligent use of the Grassi Museum's main temporary exhibition space, Futures is an exhibition without a narrative, rather is a collection of exhibits structured into subchapters of its three main chapters that leaves you to make your own way through and around it, to build your own path via an exploration of connections, frictions and relationships. Leaves you free to identify those materials, those proposals, those futures that either speak to you meaningfully or that you take issue with, and to take them as your personal starting point for further conversations and argumentation.
An exhibtion without a narrative staged in a scenography which appears to increase the dimensions of the Grassi's main temporary exhibition space; a scenography that for the chapter Ready Made Future employs glass vitrines we've never liked, and that whenever we see them we hope they will soon cease to be part of the Grassi's future, but that's just our opinion, and we do appreciate the need for vitrines; a scenography populated by bales of textiles that serve as seats and pedestals and which in reminding very much of Tejo Remy's Rag Chair allow one to approach Droog Design as developers of speculative futures that inform the now while not being the actual now. As The Smiths once asked How soon is now? And a scenography whose Material Lab as staged in the Orangery has an atmosphere as sterile as an actual lab; which, yes, could be read as a criticism, is an observation, is also a space as stimulating as an actual lab. And an observation on our part that is invariably an ongoing consequence of the shock of the Orangery as staged for A Chair and You. A staging that leaves everything post-A Chair and You feeling sterile.
An exhibtion without a narrative that alongside innumerable material samples also presents a wide variety of products crafted from those materials, including numerous chairs, such, for example, and amongst many others, Jakob Trepel's Reet+ stool formed from reeds, Spyros Kizis' Thistle Chair crafted from artichokes, Šimon Kern's Beleaf Chair, whose shell used to be Be Leaves before they Be Came a material for furniture construction, Julia Huhnholz and Friedrich Gerlach's Biocement Chair, or a chair from Klarenbeek & Dros' aforementioned Polyspace project. A preponderance of chairs which shouldn't come as a surprise; chairs, as oft noted in these dispatches, being as they are a universally understood object and thus a simple choice when looking to explain the singularities and possibilities of your novel material and/or process. Whereby it is important that with the chairs its not about the form, we know, we know, in our contemporary age everything is understood through the visuals, but in Futures its all about the demonstration inherent within, the arguments inherent within, the object as to the possibilities, suitabilities, feasibilities, et al of the material/process. It will be up to others at a later date to find the appropriate forms. See also plywood. And in which context it would be useful and helpful if one could actually sit on the chairs, to approach the materials tactilely and physically not just theoretically and speculatively.
An exhibition without narrative whose juxtaposing of the speculative futures of What If... with the actual use of speculative materials of Ready Made Future and Material Lab reminds of not only the contemporaneousness of the discussions undertaken but the contemporaneousness of the future, and also helps reinforce that it's not only about the materials, but how we use those materials, why we use those materials, how much of that material we use, where and how we source those materials, and the responsibility of us all in such questions, while also making very clear the singular and specific responsibility of design and designers in such questions. And as such also questions our obsession with growth, or perhaps more accurately, questions our obsession with financial, economic and population growth rather than with cultural, social and personal growth. And also warns of the very real dangers of a monoculture that can arise where any plant is employed industrially by way of meeting the demands of humans. And warns of the very real dangers of monoculture in general.
An exhibition without a narrative that reminds that we're currently in the midsts of forming a narrative. And of being formed by that narrative.
A narrative, as can be better appreciated in the museum's permanent collection exhibition, that has been long in the process of forming. And equally long in the process of forming us. And which will, could, might, continue to be formed, and to form, long after we've all moved on.
A permanent collection exhibition that you should, must, visit after viewing Futures to explore the myriad materials and societies of the future contained therein, be that those of bronze, iron, plastic, or the hopes of the Renaissance, Art Déco or 1970s questioners of Functionalist Modernism, and also to reflect upon the future design has promised since the early 20th century, a future that art used to promise, a future craft, arguably, has never promised, never sought to promise. A future that, invariably, when it comes will be very different to that promised, being as it is not the tangible physical place of many of What If...'s speculations, but a process, an amalgamation and interaction of the myriad decisions we make and, to evoke a Lucius Burkhardt, which, yes, we are doing an awful lot these days, the myriad decisions we don't make.
To reflect upon where those past futures are now, on how we view those futures as pasts. And on how those futures past can, ¿should?, ¿must? help us question and approach the futures promised in and by Futures?
In and by an exhibition that existing as it does to a large extent as an archive, a repository, of contemporary novel materials and contemporary novel process reminds of the origins of institutions such as the Grassi Museum für Angewandte Kunst as locations, repositories, where local industrialists could inform themselves on novel materials, novel processes, best case examples on the path to the future, and as such is reminder that for all museums are today associated with pasts, they've always been about futures, always been spaces for approaching futures.
But whereas then it was industrialists who approached the future, who made the decisions on what materials we use, how we use them, how much of them we use, where we source them, et al, today that is a job for all of us. Certainly should be a job for all of us. Certainly not just a job for a few unfeasibly wealthy Californians.
It's all our futures after all.
Futures. Material and Design of Tomorrow is scheduled to run at Grassi Museum für Angewandte Kunst, Johannisplatz 5–11, 04103 Leipzig until Sunday August 24th.
Full details, including information on the accompanying fringe programme, can be found at www.grassimak.de
