Nigel CoatesOxo seating 1998

From the islands that brought us Mackintosh, Morris, Liberty, Heals and the Mini Minor, comes Home Sweet Home, an exhibition of Contemporary British Design for the Home. So I walk into this exhibition with considerable expectations.

The first thing I see is that the gallery space is completely filled with ‘rooms’, in the form of podiums protected by screens. The many objects that make up the show are displayed inside these rooms. I feel like I’m visiting a display house or an open house; not a bad idea, I think. Each of the ‘rooms’ is themed through a word and an accompanying text (these form the intro parts of the catalogue as well) and along with the no-touch protocol of the gallery, there is a suggestion that a didactic scan of the exhibition might be fruitful. The seven themes are Maximalism, Minimalism, Texture, Pattern, Materials, Wit, and Form.

These make up a very particular post-post-modern set. Function and (mass) Production, which would have been key themes a few decades ago are missing and there are three newer ones: Wit, Minimalism and Maximalism. Wit allows for the ad-hoc and found object to be introduced into the designer’s discourse. The explanation of Min and Max on the panels is breathtaking: ‘Minimalism is characterised by restraint of colour, form or focus. Maximalism is outward looking and expressive, with lively colours, shapes and themes. The creative tension between the two accounts for the distinctive flavour of contemporary British design.’

Sure enough, the Minimalism room is sort of monochrome and the Maximalism room has a bit of colour, but the work is not as minimal as, say, Don Judd’s furniture and also not as colourful as some of Judd’s lairy sculptures. The ‘colourful’ British work is so restrained I have to check the room label a number of times to confirm that it is indeed Maximalist. As I walk through the exhibition, I note that much of the rest of the exhibition would fit in the Min and Max rooms. It seems that the themes are convenient labels and not a guide to analysis or understanding.

I note that there are no beds or wardrobes, no whitegoods or communications/entertainment hardware, and very little kitchen equipment. So the entire ‘home’ is not represented. Nor do I get an idea how these objects would merge into a British home. Some of the pieces look like they might occupy converted warehouse space, but maybe not the kind of interiors that background The Bill, Dalziel and Pascoe, or Morse.

It takes me a bit of time to realise that this is not an Art show, but a Trade show. The rooms are really shop windows without the glass. All I need to do to respond properly is to point out what I like, or rather, what I want - something I wouldn’t do for a craft or art review. So here is my shopping list: I really liked Jane Atfield’s Adult and Child RCP2 Chairs made from post consumer plastic; BOA’s Loop Desk and associated chair, David Clarke’s Crazy Daisy flower holder, Dominic Crinson’s Carbatt tile panel, Edmund de Waal’s celadon glazed porcelain Vessels, Wallace Sewell’s woven lambswool Waffle Throw and the top half of Thomas Eisl’s Table/Lamp. I could easily live with most of the other objects in this exhibition, but they would be just prosaic home helps, without that special attraction of the things in my list. Looking through that list, I recognise a number of my pre-occupations: the scale model, the classical, the left-over, the found object...so there is nothing mysterious about my choices at all. But I imagine that other people would have their favourites and that these might be different to mine. I’m sorry I didn’t do this exercise with a few friends to get a sense of different likes and dislikes.

On my way out, I notice a paper list on the reception desk which shows where ‘a number of the featured designers are represented in Melbourne.’ It lists five shops. In the spirit of shopping, I visit two of them, Space and de de ce. Space is a revelation. It reminds me of my youthful meanders through Andersons in Geelong—then the only place I could see (and touch) sort-of-modern furniture. Space is floor upon floor of magical contemporary objects, all of them born of inspiration and effort. I see a range of Ron Arad’s chairs (yes, they do sell, John Parker of Space tells me) and get completely absorbed by the things in the kitchen area. With all of the objects in Space, I wonder at their materials, making and often they puzzle me in the most delightful way as to how they might be used. I can’t remember reacting this way to the objects in Home Sweet Home. John Parker tells me that the designers Hilton, Morrison and Young on the list I have are really to be found at de de ce, because the latter handles Cappellini products, so there I go.

At de de ce, I talk with Caitlin Nation, who is keen to show me how Jasper Morrison’s work runs through interior design/style magazines. I see a couple of Morrison chairs, Tom Dixon’s lights and works by other designers that also delight me. Caitlin gives me a Cappellini catalogue and when I look through it later, I note that Jasper Morrison has designed a significant part of the company’s range, Tom Dixon also. Morrison is represented in Home Sweet Home with a couple of chairs, one of which is his Tate contract chair. It reminds me that contemporary designers are linked to manufacturers and distributors in a symbiotic way, much more so than artists who might trade through galleries and dealers. Cappellini is Italian, Home Sweet Home is British. Cappellini is a manufacturer (or producer) with an international stable of commissioned designers. HSH defines the product through the designer alone.

Some sweet contradictions become obvious: the British show is careful to include foreigners (my word) from Japan and Eastern Europe, as Britain prides itself on being able to attract people of talent. But the practice of British designers working substantially for European firms does nothing for official British pride, and presumably one cannot use British Council money to push the interests of an Italian manufacturer, even if there is an EU.

While at the exhibition, I wondered what kind of interior these objects might be meant for, and by implication what kind of message this export vehicle was supposed to carry. I’m still puzzled by this. HSW is a concept-free zone, self-deprecating to a degree which is astonishing for something so official. Further, it appears to be tied to a nationalism which is at odds with the work it shows. If this exhibition wanders your way, go and visit, but don’t forget to go shopping afterwards as an antidote.