SuperPop Washing Machine, Chelles & Hayashi Design for Mueller Electrodomésticos

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SuperPop Glass Washing Machine, Chelles & Hayashi Design for Mueller Electrodomésticos

During my first week in São Paulo last July, I couldn’t help but notice how so many residential buildings in São Paulo had their names set in the same typeface. I found it really intriguing, and it also reminded me of a blogpost architecture critic and D-crit teacher Alexandra Lange had written a few days earlier about house numbers in her Brooklyn neighborhood. I failed to take any photos of the said typeface during that week or on my second visit to the city. But when I came back to São Paulo last November, I made sure I took as many photos as I could of names, numbers and stylish building entrances in the Jardins and Higienópolis neighborhoods. There are a few more photos after the jump. For more, visit the set on my Flickr page. If you know what this typeface is or why it’s São Paulo’s typeface of choice, I’d love to find out. Feel free to comment or write me at frederico[at]05031979.net.

In perhaps a nod to this tradition, Livraria da Vila uses the same typeface for its identity (here on Isay Weinfeld’s Alameda Lorena building in Jardins)

The invitation email to take part in TEDx São Paulo last Friday. This was very good news: not only I was one of about 700 people to be selected for this very exciting event, I had finally a reason to go back to Brazil.

I’ll be arriving in São Paulo Tuesday, November 11th and will be coming back Sunday 15th; I’ve already started writing to some of the people I didn’t meet in July and August, or didn’t have a chance to properly interview, to schedule appointments and interviews for my thesis. Can’t wait.

In dowtown Recife.

And in Óscar Freire, São Paulo (Havaianas store by Isay Weinfeld).

There is a general sense of optimism, even enthusiasm, in the conversations I’ve had here in Brazil. The people I’ve talked to seem to be doing rather well; they don’t seem to have reasons to complain about their work or their condition as designers. There’s obviously always room for improvement, and much work to be done, but things seem to be heading in the right direction for Brazilian design.

But after meeting Ethel Leon in her São Paulo neighbourhood of Higienópolis I somehow managed to look at a bigger picture. Ethel is a design author, historian, curator and professor; her enlightening essay “Jovens Objectos Velhos” (Young Old Objects), which I volunteered to translate into English (soon), inspired one of my thesis’ areas of research.

Besides the above titles, Ethel is a design critic. On the online magazine she and others started just over a year ago, Agitprop, she has also been fostering critical writing on design by young and old writers and scholars, as well as promoting Portuguese translations of relevant foreign texts.

As others have expressed, Ethel is concerned about the lack of criticism – and the lack of investment in criticism from academia, media and cultural institutions – in Brazilian design, amidst all this enthusiasm. She is a fierce critic of the direction design education is taking in the country – over 400 programmes “churn out” designers in state and private schools, with little consideration for the country’s, but also the world’s social and environmental needs.

In Ethel’s opinion, it’s not by adding the sustainable, community-based or ethnographic-researched labels to the design practise and its outcome that a real difference can be made. It’s about designers acquiring a larger consciousness to their work and their role in society – it’s about recognising their role as citizens.

Often criticised for her negative – or is it critical? – statements and tone, Ethel admits to be, first and foremost, an optimist. She is also a believer in Brazil’s ability to contribute to this larger design consciousness our globalised world so desperately needs. Her voice and work should also serve as inspiration far beyond Brazil’s borders.

On August 13th I met both Renato Imbroisi over breakfast and Paula Dib over lunch a few Vila Madalena blocks apart. Representing two generations and experiences in Brazilian community-based design and craft, they share many of the same goals, achievements and concerns, but have quite different experiences.Renato (I unfortunately forgot to take a photo of him) is by and large the pioneer in the field. A weaver by trade, he started his first “product interference” projects in the early 1990s. First in his own state of Minas Gerais, but later from his studio/school in São Paulo, Renato began to work with craftsmen and women from different regions, incorporating their work into a larger distribution chain, making connections with textile, fashion and later home decoration stores and wholesalers.

In the late 1990s he was invited to the federal capital, Brasília, to head a nation-wide, pilot project with communities from all over the country – from indigenous reserves to bobbin lacemakers to capim dourado harvesters. Based on his wide experience and insight, Renato was later invited by the FDC and Aga Khan foundations to start long-term projects in two regions of Mozambique. Lately he is also coordinating a new project in the also former Portuguese colony of São Tomé.

I was introduced to Renato by Heloísa Crocco (Renato was also one of the founders of the Piracema project) during the opening of the “Brasil em África” exhibition at the Casa Brasil fair. This exhibition featured the work he’s been co-ordinating there and, through its sophisticated presentation and inventive range of products was one of my personal highlights of the whole event.

Our two-hour chat went from how villagers make the several thousand kilometers from the northern Cabo Delgado region of Mozambique to Maputo wearing their own work with pride, to his utmost concern in any of the projects he’s been heading: continuity. He explained how he has been trying, with different level of success, to engage all the different agents in the process – craftsmen, distributors/sellers, state institutions, NGOs, the media and also other designers – in making sure this continuity is kept.

This is also a concern for Paula Dib, who began her first explorations in 2002-2003, fresh out of FAAP’s product design programme. Her short, yet productive career (in Brazil, but also in Europe) has already gained much attention and recognition – she was the recipient of the British Council Young design entrepreneur of the year award in 2006. I actually heard about Paula from Heath Nash, runner-up of the award and a common friend. With her company, transforma.design, Paula organises workshops and teaches design students, but also craftspeople, to elevate their creative potential by looking around what lies around them. In the process, she challenges people’s preconceptions of resources, manufacturing and value. We then talked about what makes people want the stuff they don’t have – from brands to the influence of production design in Brazilian telenovelas – and about what they manufacture – things they need and can make a living from – with the resources around them.

Paula also has an interesting take on how this kind of projects explore – or even explode – the notion of authorship; she says there is no more a place for authorship, as it becomes shared between designer and craftsmen, individual and community, thinker and maker. She adds this notion should actually be an inspiration for the future of design, as it becomes and increasingly collaborative discipline – on this and many other fronts. Her view may be seen as debatable, almost quixotic, but it’s part of a larger, global debate on the future of the design profession.

I met Pedro Ariel and Lucia Gurovitz – respectively editor-in-chief and design editor for Casa Cláudia – at the Idea Brasil award ceremony. Pedro later emailed me and mentioned they’d like talk to a bit more about my research, so on my return we met for lunch at the executive dining room on the top of the Abril headquarters, where we were joined by Regina Galvão (right), senior editor of the magazine – after lunch we checked out the terrace’s impressive view.

Casa Cláudia is Brazil’s oldest shelter magazine, and one of the most recognised titles from the mammoth media and publishing group Abril. Despite a growing number of competitors, it also a household name in Brazil (and also in Portugal) when it comes to decoration and, to some extent, the tricky notion of taste. I was really interested in finding out how design has been featured in the magazine and perceived by its wide audience, and also here things are changing. The growing “C class” (or lower-middle class) is altering its patterns of consumption, but also its access to information. Being a popular title, Casa Cláudia is noticing those social changes, but also a more widespread interest in all things Brazilian. Differently than the past – when foreign decorative elements, trends and taste were seen as superior by the so-called laughter class – or AAA, the super rich. This appreciation of “Made in Brazil” products and aesthetics (whatever that means)  has been coming from larger, increasingly more populous social groups that are more in touch with their (popular) culture than the traditional Brazilian elites. And that is no small shift.

The editors of Casa Cláudia have been answering that appreciation with the “Design Brasil” volume series, where since 2003 – but on an irregular basis – they have been collating profiles of Brazilian product and furniture designers. In true Casa Cláudia tradition, these inexpensive, highly accessible publications are a great way to introduce a large audience to some of their most important design practitioners. I left the Abril building with all 4 of them, including the latest 2009 issue.

I first knew of Gerson Oliveira and Luciana Martins’ work when I assisted Guta Moura Guedes on the research for the &Fork book back in 2006. Their studio is called ,Ovo, and I had it on my São Paulo list from early on. I arrived at their Vila Olímpia address quite late in the day (7pm is actually night time in the Autumn), and managed to have a great chat with Gerson – Luciana said hi on her way from a meeting to a dinner.

Luciana and Gerson’s studio is found upstairs from the store/gallery that works as a showroom of their work and a space for exhibitions and events. Gerson first guided me through their design, particularly their brand new collection of cabinet units and sofas, of which I immediately became a great fan. Then we stepped inside and sat down, we talked extensively about their references – most of which come from Brazilian contemporary art – but also about how they themselves cross the thin line of design and art with their work for museums and galleries. Two of their designs have also recently been the focus of a Master thesis dissertation.

I was really taken however  on Gerson’s perspective regarding their design/business model. Instead of working for manufacturers, ,Ovo has been developing their own brand. They therefore work with manufacturers, not for them – they are the end client, making the manufacturer more of a partner/supplier. ,Ovo manages the whole process, from design to production, from distribution to marketing and sales. Given the scale and complexity of most of their designs, it sounds like quite an undertaking. But this is something that, according to Gerson, has been a feature of Brazilian furniture design for decades – from Joaquim Tenreiro to Sérgio Rodrigues, from Carlos Motta to Humberto and Fernando Campana – and has worked perfectly well for them thus far. But with growing international exposure and an ever more diversified – and refreshing – body of work, I’d be curious to see if things won’t change for ,Ovo in the near future.

I spent the better part of my day with three amazing women.
First, design journalist and curator and former director of Museu da Casa Brasileira Adélia Borges, who has been a terrific guiding hand for me from the very first moment, welcomed me into her house/office in Vila Madalena for a great lunch and conversation. I forgot to take a photo of Adélia, but I will meet her again in Bento Gonçalves and also on the 11th here in São Paulo – more news on that later.

Just as I left Adélia’s street I got a call from Daniela Pizetta, who I got in touch before coming to Brazil through design journalist and curator Aric Chen. She picked me up on the corner and we drove to her husband’s Bike Shop. Cris runs one of the few licenced Harley Davidson workshops in Brazil, and he started our chat there. Then we walked up to the Sunset spot in Vila Beatriz, where we arrived just after the sun set. And today was the first day I actually saw São Paulo’s blue sky… We went back to their place and continued talking over pizza about Daniela’s experience with Brazilian product design, design development and export, in what was a remarkably insightful take into the industry, its achievements but also its shortcomings over the past years.

Then I got a taxi – with the greatest, most politically opinionated cab driver I’ve ever met – to Morumbi, where I met Flávia Pagotti Silva. Flávia had a really busy day, and is having a very busy week of exciting new projects and commissions, so we could only talk from 8pm. Her cool, soon to be 4-year old son Pedro paid us company throughout the talk/interview, repeatedly attempting to fly over the couch.

Yesterday I managed to see three remarkably different versions of São Paulo:
1. Lunch at the Museu da Casa Brasileira, the place to go to see Brazilian furniture, applied arts and the gardens of the Fábio Prado mansion.
2. More books and general wonderment at Shopping Cidade Jardim, Brazil’s most exclusive (and dare I say beautifully executed by Arthur Mattos Casas) shopping mall, which includes a whole floor dedicated to Art&Design – an empty floor, but I guess the intention is there.
3. Chopps and more at Bar Brahma, a São Paulo classic in downtown. While the bar and its fenced terrace are delightful, its surroundings are somewhat bleak: homeless people and crackheads wonder the streets, alone or in groups. Some of downtown São Paulo’s blocks and streets are appropriately called “Cracolândia”. I wondered how long it will take for this area to become gentrified…

Along the way me and the Finottis met some friends, eventually sitting down together at Bar Brahma: first Domingos Pascali, an architect and associate of Isay Weinfeld, plus former fabricanti and product designer Brunno Jahara. No Sunday rest from Brazilian design.