So, if you have any interaction with me in real life, you probably have figured out I have an addiction to collecting certain things. The list is finite but long enough to make planning ahead for the next purchase an actual aspect of the process.

I have been for the past few years been keenly collecting mid century design, furniture to be exact. I will say, It has been almost 15 years that my interest started, but I did not simply have the kind of space to properly collect. The better part of my after work hours broken up with eating dinner, a quick workout at the gym and a scan of ebay, with all my key word lists begging me for attention with each subsequent post from a random seller.

The ubiquitous Eames Zenith shell lounge chair, has been a long standing love, and one I have had some success conquering in the past couple years with enough looking for the right color and condition. With these things, sometimes it is always about the relationships you find along the way… you make a good purchase with someone, they will let you know when another score becomes available. It is like any gateway drug, the dealer knows when you have it bad and is happy to oblige. It is a mutually satisfying encounter in which you drain your bank account.

Regan has been nothing short of a saint, when at some random time of day I inform her, I need to go on a last minute 5-7 hour road trip to pick up a chair, table, or shelving unit, because I don’t want to pay shipping, or simply want to see the piece in person before the deal is over. I try my best to be realistic and not go past New Jersey, Pennsylvania or Delaware, but even then, I do question my sanity.

George Nelson designs have been becoming more of a focus to me, as I graduate from the standard Charles and Ray fare. Granted I am no where near the level of buying multi tiered ESU units, but I have for the most part filled a large majority of my early check off list, in terms of the iconic early production. 1948 red aniline CTW, 1946 Black aniline LCM, 1947 LCW, Aluminum groups first year lounges and ottomans and La Fonda Miller stripe sets, first year Elephant grey LAX and DAX, 1963 mint 670/671s all sit quietly among the sheepskins and comatose cats. But no George…

George has been elusive. But I had to start somewhere and felt the 1958 DAF was a good place to begin. I had lost one at a Wright auction in my hotel room in Saigon… sitting up at 3am bidding on a sketchy wireless hotel connection, as my dream chair went to some high roller or museum. Indeed the 28% commission was also a bitter pill to swallow too, even If I had “won”. Wright auctions, as with many big houses, always bring out the guns to a knife fight and to be honest are never indicative of actual “value” just high-profile pissing matches. That might be my sour grape talking.

Two weeks ago I spy a listing online on one of my favorite love /hate auction sites, and watch a fairly clean black/charcoal DAF come and then go. I did bid, then forget to snipe and then curse myself as I realize I missed the end of auction while getting ready to go to bed. This is the most feared end to a hunt, to simply be stupid and forget to pull the trigger.

But as luck would have it, another is listed by the seller, and I contact her to inquire if she has more. She and I talk on the phone and discuss the details of the condition, and price. She then tells me she has two left of the three she bought. Three is an odd number (pun) to have, but I am pleased by the idea of a set, as it is always better to have an original pair that lived life together than match them up later.

I form my plan and do mental math on what I can sell to offset an unexpected second DAF.

Problem is , she has another interested party in the third chair. I worked out a price on the second one but she needs to wait to hear back from them before I can take them both. I relent and wait for her call in a day or two and get slightly nervous that she told the other buyer there was about me, and they simply end my daydreams with a paypal email.
My karma was good that week, and it seems the shipping was a sticking point for the other parties. It then starts to worry me too that this might get complicated and ask if I can pick them up in person.

All of course without telling Regan I have made plans for the weekend for her.

Needless to say the call of George was strong, and the desire to score barely used first year versions overrode my common sense, and I make the deal, send the money and gather the troops: my midcentury sidekick Ms Miller. Off to Long Island we go.

The drive was longer than expected, but we arrived before schedule, and got a call from the seller while on our way through Queens, prompting her to change plans and meet us in the parking lot of her work.
She was younger than I expected, only a few years older then myself. She was energetic, direct and very friendly… a personality that came across in our emails and past phone conversations.

We walked over to her SUV and she presented us with two bundles wrapped in what appeared to be vintage mid century curtains. Very appropriate I thought. Moving the shells to our car, I unwrapped them, and was struck at how beautiful the finish of the fiberglass was. Onyx mixed with mercury, fresh and watery gloss, still amazingly intact.

The label, as I checked the patent number ,indicated 1958, making these first year production. Since having a tendency to enjoy finding the first year productions of each style, and this was the clincher for me.

Even though I had paid for them a week before, she kindly made sure I was happy before I took them. Carrying the Swag legs over, I was also amazed at the condition of the chrome and ebony plastic feet. Though there was a slight difference in color… one shell being one shade darker than the other, I felt they were an iconic pair, and were certainly going to be the new center pieces in my ever growing chair “library”.

Parting ways, we drove away and spent the rest of our day searching Long Island for food and beach, in no particular order. A good end to what was a very good beginning to my “George” initiation.

Now in a sense calling these chairs Nelson designs is sort of like saying Charles Eames single handedly designed the LCW. Nelson like Eames was a director of design employing many talented designers under his name. These included “George Mulhauser (designer of the Coconut Chair), Robert Brownjohn (designer of the sets for the James Bond film Goldfinger), Don Chadwick, Bill Renwick, Suzanne Sekey, Ernest Farmer, Tobias O’Mara, George Tscherney, (who designed the Herman Miller advertisements), Lance Wyman, and John Pile.”
The Swag chairs, although iconic in Nelson lore, however were designed by Charles Pollack, who was known for his Herman Miller Pollack Executive chair in 1963. Nelson did in fact give credit for the chair design to Pollack, but as with Eames studio, many of the revisionist design histories have not come out until recently.

This does not reduce my love for George, and his vision. The Swag series still remains one of the cornerstones of Herman Miller’s design output, and the DAF is in my humble opinion one of the finest designed objects, let alone chairs in production today.

As I looked in the rear view mirror driving home, I smiled to myself knowing, it had been a long journey to finally add these to my collection, and in a way, the difficulty had added to the sense of satisfaction and appreciation.

Nelson may not have been the one who put pen to paper or even had much to do with it’s creation, but he was the catalyst for the team of people who brought a paradigm shift to the design consciousness of the country and the world. And for that I am grateful. The DAF is one badass chair.

Thanks George.

As most of you know, Josh and I collect Mid-Century Modern furniture, focusing mainly on Eames. I admit that though I love the style and had collected a bit on my own, Josh is the real devotee. I come along for the hunting and pick-up adventures and offer opinions but he is the one scouring Ebay and Craigslist, locating the best dealers and waking up at 5am for nerve-wracking online auctions.

Our friends and family tease him relentlessly because he is very…particular. There are certain chairs NOBODY sits in. The upholstery is too rare or the shock mounts need replacing or he simply doesn’t trust that the piece was meant to support the weight of a 21^st Century American. Guests who come to our home often move towards the nearest seat before they remember, freezing wide-eyed and hovering 6” above the seat to ask “Is this one OK?” Even my denim is given a once over for zippers or rivets before I am allowed to test out the latest acquisition.

I will admit I’ve been feeling a little bitter towards the collection lately. I grew up in a home where it was important that you felt relaxed and when guests were asked to ‘make themselves at home’ it was sincere. I want chairs people can throw themselves into while telling an involved story. I want cheerful cocktail parties where guests aren’t concerned about where their glasses can go or whether they can put their feet up.  I want my two cats to be able to sit wherever they want without getting scolded. I want a chair I can stand on if I need to reach a higher cabinet. Hell, I want a chair I can stand on so I can do a little dance and say “WOO I AM STANDING ON A CHAIR” because it’s my house and I am sort of an adult. “Furniture is mean to be used,” I have argued; “I don’t want to live in a museum.”

This past weekend we spent a couple of days in New Hampshire with friends. The Air B&B we stayed in had a massive La-Z-Boy recliner, the kind with huge rolls of stuffed leather that makes it look like you are curling up on the torso of a fat guy. It was ugly as sin and Josh spent the entire stay blissfully glued to it. I laughed at him as he nested on the leather monstrosity with a blanket, “See, this is what life would be like it we had comfortable furniture.”

The next day on the drive home, we stopped off at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Zimmerman House for a tour. In the late 1940s Isadore and Lucille Zimmerman had asked Wright to build them a house that would be different than all of the others in their New England town. They wanted something that fit their personalities.  They wanted a work of art.  When they finally moved in, only a Steinway piano had made the transition from their old life. The designer and his team chose every other element of the home from upholstery to the art. The couple became like acolytes of their own house and of Wright’s vision. They even sent the tableware they had chosen to Taliesin to receive his blessing before using it in the house. Wright famously hated designing chairs so their home is filled with awkward, low hassocks with the exception of a high-backed banquette than runs the length of the wall in the living room. None of it is particularly comfortable nor was that a consideration.  Lucille had remarked ”One must learn to sit properly in Mr. Wright’s furniture.” Every last measurement is proportional to the overall grid pattern of the house, producing mathematical harmony but leaving those who had to live with it completely absurd proportions. The dining table is 4’ high. If that was too low, well, too bad; it was about unity. The Zimmermans couldn’t have cared less. They lived in a work of art and they adored it. If they had to run their wastebaskets by an 80-year-old man in the Midwest, so be it. He was the genius, after all.

If you walk into the house today, almost everything is original. It’s the same upholstery, the same lamps and the same stem glasses. Nothing was damaged or replaced (save for 2 Danish chairs and an ill-planned heating system) in the 36 years they lived there. They lived as though they were simply custodians of this work of art and not its masters. They knew all along that the house belonged to the future and that they would endow it to the public when they were gone. I can’t begin to imagine the level of discipline you have to have to keep your fucking bedspread immaculate after 36 years. I have to assume my cat is currently puking on mine.

On the shuttle bus back to the museum the guide asked if anyone would like to live in the Zimmerman home. Most of the women said, “Well, I mean, maybe if it was a second home. I couldn’t live like that all the time. I need to be comfortable.” There it was: my least favorite declarative statement in the English language. “I need to be comfortable.” Ew.

If people actually said those words and were referring to the comfort of basic human needs like food, warmth and sleep, that would be one thing. What they actually mean is that they would like to  be horizontal and covered in fleece as much as possible.  Putting comfort, ease and convenience over beauty, change and hard work has been something I have been bucking all of my adult life. We live in a cultural environment in which humans believe everything should exist solely to make us comfortable and happy at all times. We’re like spoiled children. People choose to go to Ikea and spend $300 on a table that they can abuse relentlessly until it falls apart 2 years later so they can buy another. It’s wasteful. Yes, I have had to alter my lifestyle a bit. I make people take off their shoes so they don’t track dirt on the vintage rugs and I have a sitting sofa instead of a flopping sofa but I realize I get to live with beautiful things I love and be this generation’s custodian for them.  We have pieces that have lasted 60 years and I feel we have a great responsibility to make sure they last at least another 60. People should see these things generations from now and know about the people who made them and understand what makes them beautiful. It all feels rather ascetic in a way, which I guess appeals to what remains of my Catholic upbringing.

So, I’ve changed my way of thinking. Perhaps this is Stockholm Syndrome but I love my weird, uncomfortable home and I want to protect the things in it to the best of my ability. I will use Frank Lloyd Wright’s perfectly worded quote on the Zimmerman memorial as my mantra:

 “Beautify your own life and you beautify the life of everyone around you.”

…as long as those around you are using a coaster.

We’ve actually been keeping our promise to each other to hit museums more often. This weekend we had intended to hit both the MFA and the Gardner Museum but I think we forgot just how huge the former is.

As the last time, we took some photos of a few things that inspired us. We apparently get really, really inspired.

We started this weekend at one of my favorites, the Harvard Museum of Natural History. It always feels like walking into a different era. The taxidermy is a bit old and crumbling but displayed in beautiful wood and glass cases and labeled with hand-penciled tags.

I grabbed a few photos (Iphone – not high-quality) of animals or objects that I loved for color, texture or shape inspiration. I actually believe the words “Wow, I really like the colorway on this bug!” made it past my lips. Sorry Nature, I’m kind of an ass.