Wood Ideas

When I moved into a shared apartment last year there was one of those common linking spaces between kitchen and living room, the bar. Opposite the oven it recalled small diners and serving spaces but was cluttered with coins, silverware, and much unused junk. In some houses flat surfaces quickly accumulate significant detritus due to the simple habits of the members to set anything and everything upon any available surface. Flat is not even a necessary requirement, leading to leaning towers of unstable junk upon junk. The area on the living room side of the bar was blacked off with more flat surfaces, unnecessarily placed coffee tables and dressers. Reorganization was in order. A bar is not a bar until there are bar stools. Nothing else will do, anything that does do becomes a bar stool by definition anyways, it is an unbeatable argument. I found some excellent stools made of bamboo with a short backing and tiny arms. For me what is most crucial is the horizontal ring between the legs for resting one’s own legs. I am miserable and fidgety drinking in public bars without them. Essentially cleaning and bar stools is all that was needed, well hanging glasses and a wine rack didn’t hurt either, and the space was ready; my friends loved it.

When I was young they were directly for sitting. The playfulness afforded by a seat with no backing seemed unlimited. I could lay belly down, flying across the carpet as a human bird or airplane. Siting up and using my balance the four legs, points of contact with the ground, could become three, two, or one, as I spun and rotated left and right with pitch and yaw. Maneuvers and choreography developed: right spin, left spin, dizzying 360. A coffee table will not do. Now that I am older a coffee table still will not do, it is not enough. I need the ottoman for my tired feet, bounced around all day, cooped in a cubicle and pounded on pavement. A recliner is good, but the ottoman offers finer adjustments with the free range of decoupling. Not many of my friends’ living rooms have them unfortunately. It seems the ottoman is quickly forgotten and easily deemed unnecessary with a fat couch and thick recliner surrounding a coffee table now most common. Still if there is room for ottomans, and in my living room I make sure there is, nothing else is quite like them.

In the Bockenheim district of Frankfurt sits a large glass cube containing modest amounts of what at first sight is merely old wood. A plain office quickly becomes apparent, flat uniform brown desk, simple wooden chair, with only a lamp and metronome for adornment. The craftsmanship is unembellished, the bare modern style, functional but not advanced, simple lines and pure colors. Perhaps the office should be a place that merges comfort and organization, cabinets, drawers, varieties of containing spaces. Chairs with thick backs, adjustable dongles, and, why not, a cup holder. Still there is an intellectual use for simplicity. The glass cube is a monument to Theodor Adorno, German sociologist, philosopher, and public intellectual. That explains the metronome, Adorno was always fascinated by the contrast between popular and studied forms of music. For someone who makes their bread by the rigor, power, and originality of their thought alone a simple, sturdy, and well crafted wooden office can allow escape from bureaucratic demands and the post-industrial burden of complexity.