We Live in a World of Things, Not the Other Way Round. A conversation with Vytautas Gečas

Aušra Trakšelytė: Vytautas, your work goes beyond your personal design practice (both individual and created together with Marija Puipaitė). Not only do you participate in design exhibitions, but you also initiate and curate them yourself (we’ll talk about that later), at the same time as studying for your PhD and teaching at Vilnius Academy of Art. In your article ‘Between Critical and Industrial Design. A Designer’s View’, you wrote ‘things are innately multifunctional.’ Perhaps today that’s the only role a designer (as an artist) can play, is it? Moreover, do you regard these activities as though they are ‘flowing’ from one to another, or rather as specific segmented areas?

Vytautas Gečas: It looks as if today we’ve returned to the Renaissance, when artists could diversify their practice by working in different fields. I think today we’ve become emancipated by the accessibility of information and different means of communication. We’re able to understand how to employ our knowledge in different fields a lot faster.

All my activities can be brought together, and the design of objects is at the heart of them all. In all honesty, it looks to me as if I’m only working on one thing. I have to pause and look at myself from a distance to realise that the contexts are different. Diversity has always been one of my greatest values, both culturally and professionally. Multifunctionality, or multi-layeredness, the creation of some sort of totality, hones the imagination, at the same time as allowing you to see the bigger picture. It’s a holistic type of work.

I am very glad to meet different people, to have the opportunity to take on different responsibilities, or simply to discover new materials and new manufacturing processes. It makes me want to transfer the knowledge gathered to other fields as well. That allows me to expand my perception and creativity, and it probably couldn’t be done if I was working in one field only. For instance, sometimes when I’m preparing for lectures, I make use of different practices from [my] former projects. That’s how I know that I’m still in touch with what’s relevant in my field. And it makes it easier to develop the students’ perception, since they are shown not only abstract and theoretical examples, but materialised ideas, and vice versa. So, yes, in my case, different practices add to each other. So if I know that the experience gained from a particular activity can’t be used for what I am working on, I try to stay away from it.

AT: In communicating and collaborating with Marija Puipaitė, you’ve carried out quite a few design objects and received [positive] feedback. It’s recently been particularly interesting to observe your curatorial work, especially in the exhibition ‘The Invisibles. Historic Furniture from a Contemporary Design Perspective’ (at the Museum of Applied Art and Design). In both these cases, the creative process happens as a collaboration, in a duo or a bigger group of organisers. How much is the aspect of collaboration (or being part of a community) important to you?

VG: Today, one of my most important values is communicating with the people around me. At times, it may turn out to be a shared project, at other times an unexpectedly long discussion with a colleague in the doorway about the creative practice of either one of us. It’s like an elaborate lift talk. Communication is one of the greatest values of our time. And so is the dissemination of ideas and the speed at which these ideas can materialise. Sometimes it’s hard to believe how fast. Therefore, sharing [knowledge] is very important and worthwhile.

I believe everything starts with the individual. Subjectivity, personal experience, critical thinking, that’s where the work begins; but you need to check it by communicating your thoughts and ideas to others, that is, by inviting them to collaborate, by joining in with the initiatives of others, or simply by reacting to instastories. It’s usually only my (the creator’s) name that ends up next to these projects or objects; nonetheless, the final form is usually influenced by several people with whom I collaborate in the process (craftsmen, curators, photographers, and so on), although perhaps not regarding the search for a particular form, but rather the underlying meaning.

AT: Lithuanian Design Forum writes that you are interested in ‘the subjectivity of design’ and in ‘what an object itself wants to be’. Is that still relevant to you? Would it be safe to say it’s a method of yours?

VG: Definitely, yes. I raised this question back in Eindhoven in the Netherlands during my MA studies. I can’t point to a single form, material or production process in my creative practice, whereas it is quite common to have a recognisable style in the context of contemporary design. Plus, I like to react to the context of a particular project dynamically. However, a fundamental principle of my work is to focus solely on the fostered object, as though it is an autonomous thing unaffected by people (or even consumers). To me, that’s a way of seeing the object in a different light, allowing the object and its environment to lead, dictate or prompt different ways of interpreting it. In my opinion, in the applied arts, some processes tend to get repeated. At the same time, we are directly tied to the object’s technical function, which can greatly influence its other qualities. The function of objects often narrows the way they can be perceived. In this situation, the contemporary designer has to find a unique way to observe the world of things, and create something within it: to me, that’s a matter of principle. It’s like an occupational disease. I believe we live in a world of things, not the other way around.

AT: Since you touched upon the function of the object, let’s elaborate on it … If the essence of an object is its function, and the goal of design is to add value to that object (to add an aesthetic dimension to its functionality), I’d like to know about your research project ‘Romance & Junction’ (begun in 2018), in which you reference excessive, intricate decor from the Baroque and Rococo era. What circumstances or reasons made you interested in it, especially bearing in mind the current context of critical design? Since, if I understand correctly, in this research project and the corresponding creative process, you employed the construction of a knot, which has become an element of décor; and moreover, you granted it a new, romantic meaning, as well as a material value. In this way, the turn towards eclecticism and different but interlinked styles and eras ‘turns’ the design object into an interior accessory rather than something functional.

VG: I’d disagree with the statement that the essence of design is to create added value. I strongly believe there are plenty of designs/objects that create just value which can be referred to as a technical function (a chair to sit on, a phone to call from). I’d say that the goal of design is to give that function a form or a body. I’m not sure if that answers the question in any way though, as it doesn’t change much (smiling).

The main reason behind the ‘Romance & Junction’ research has been the aesthetic of decoration/ornamentation. I couldn’t say that I’m a fan of it, or that it particularly excites me; however, it definitely doesn’t leave me indifferent. I mean both its dynamic, saturated, overwhelming aesthetic, and the human wish to decorate any surface or material, as if to improve it, or perhaps to hide (?) something. Modern design has turned away from decoration and ornamentation for very well-known reasons, that is, to make mass production efficient and more accessible to the public. However, as you visit various museums of applied art, or otherwise research the development of things, you realise that these choices are only characteristic of our recent times: in principle, decoration has always been part of an object, and an important and diverse one at that. Leo Maher, who uses decorative elements in his creative work, describes them as fixed ideas of a particular community that prevailed at a particular time. It was very interesting to me to try and find some parallels between decoration/ornamentation and contemporary materials by manipulating their qualities: in that way, I sought to give a sense to them in the context of functionality, while at the same time attempting to interlink values from different eras.

AT: The conceptuality and theoretical unity of design (which in the result is not even the object or thing itself), as well as the multiplicity or multi-layeredness mentioned at the beginning of our conversation, can be seen in the work of various designers, in the directions and forms chosen. There’s been a clear tendency to criticise consumerism and to highlight the complexity of the Anthropocene, not only in design but in contemporary art in general. What other tendencies do you notice in today’s design? And generally speaking, how do you evaluate the possibilities for materialising or producing a project (an idea)? Is there a ‘recipe’?

VG: Self-reflection. This also follows on from the fact that we’ve reached a point in history where excess is deemed to be wrong, and where we need to rethink certain aspects of design creation and production. It’s a big word, open to interpretation. Personally, I am most interested in two directions it dictates. First, it’s about kicking off from an already-existing form and interpreting it. Modernist constructions and an aesthetic manner cease to be an objective; instead, they become a starting point. It is observed how and where its interpretation (without sticking to a particular method of production) can guide us, at the same time as testing the limits where it seems we’ve put what in the last century we came to understand as ‘good design’. However, today, in the context of excess, we’re facing problems of our own. A perfect example is Tadeáš Podracký’s work The Metamorphosis (Rietveld’s chair). The second direction the word self-reflection dictates would be texture/tactility. If you take your time looking into objects of mass production, you notice that the surfaces of most of these objects have a similar plainness. If we close our eyes and touch the objects around us, they come across as very similar. Such materials, or their form of expression, have some pros in the context of production; however, if we narrow our gaze to a particular object, I’d say, part of its identity gets lost. We encounter objects with our eyes, but we usually use them via touch, so why wouldn’t we make use of that? That’s a very natural question. When designers link this aim to their design craftsmanship research, great things are conceived.

 

AT: Although I am not actively involved in the field of design, I’ll allow myself to note that in recent years the situation regarding design has been improving: today there are plenty of fascinating creators whose work is presented at international design exhibitions and fairs, they receive truly relevant recognitions and awards. There are more personal and group design exhibitions, held both in commercial galleries and in our national institutions; consecutive design study programmes are being offered in institutions of higher education and universities; young designers go to practise, if not to study, at various institutions abroad … And yet an ambivalence regarding design remains. What else should be done and brought to light for that ambivalence to disappear?

VG: Ouch … That’s a tough question. Continuity, that’s the first word that pops into my head. Everything you mentioned should be continued, plus, attracting public support both from society and institutions. I believe it’s crucial to let in new ideas that will alter the status quo, which will even be hard to believe without seeing any good examples as proof or feeling sorry for any previous efforts. However, the only constant thing is change, and truly creative work requires a lot of courage and risk taking. Not to mention support, investment, and advice to just relax and enjoy creating designs. The involvement of young people and personal ambition too. One shouldn’t wait for opportunities or offers, but create them instead. Especially in our context, where design is taking its first steps.

AT: We began our conversation by talking about the wide range of your activities. We then discussed various aspects of your personal creative work, as well as aspects of design in general. As you say, ‘inconstancy is constant’, or everything changes, and the only thing that doesn’t change is the fact that everything changes. Defining the beginning of something as a concrete invariable isn’t easy, obviously, and yet I’m thinking how to draw this conversation to a close: after all, a final question mark should be put somewhere. So I’m considering the very beginning … What was it, a circumstance or a situation, that decided you to devote your life to the design of objects?

VG: It happened during my BA studies. In my second or third year, I learned how to get good grades, but I wanted something more. The design literature I’d leaf through prompted me to try and give some sense to form in a context that exceeded functionality. I’d say Vilnius Academy of Art provided me with a decent practical understanding of my profession; however, the theoretical part was lacking. That’s when I stumbled across the Design Academy Eindhoven: I’d often see the work of students from this school while surfing the net, looking for examples for myself and my classes. It was the conceptual outlook towards creative work that led me to this area of design. In the field of art, an artist’s thoughts and opinions tend to get captured in a piece of work, that’s nothing new. However, in industrial design it’s rather a rare practice; moreover, creativity emerges there in the chains usually invisible to the person who ends up using the object (such as in production, logistics, expenses, and so on). I want to create objects that speak for themselves as much as possible, and which tell stories about themselves; therefore, conceptuality, experimentation and provocation seemed like the right tools for me to reach these goals. The leitmotif of my creative work has turned out to be the eloquence of objects more outspoken about themselves. It also brings us to the conclusion that once you get to know an object better, you get attached to it, which extends its longevity in our current consumerist culture.