In the December/January issue of Monocle, which will be on subscribers’ doormats in just over a week, one of our writers, Stella Roos, reports on a shift that’s happening at Finnish furniture brand Artek. Founded in 1935 by Alvar and Aino Aalto, Maire Gullichsen and Nils-Gustav Hahl, the brand has spent years perfecting the manufacture of its signature designs. But now, Artek has decided that it’s time to be, well, a little less perfect.
Back in 2019 the company asked Simone Farresin and Andrea Trimarchi, of Italian studio Formafantasma, to evaluate its entire supply chain to see where it could do better environmentally. The invite came after the duo had staged an exhibition about the forestry industry at London’s Serpentine Gallery. One of the things that Farresin and Trimarchi suggested was lowering the standard of wood – mostly birch – used to make Artek’s famous seating and tables. What was the issue? An insistence on only using timber that was blemish-free meant that up to 90 per cent of this valuable commodity was being discarded. Cut to today and Artek has launched Villi, a version of its classic Stool 60 that features wood in all its knotty, gnarled glory. It’s a beautiful product. It carries meaning and takes you to the Finnish forests (not literally, you need Finnair for that).
This week I took the train up to Birmingham to meet a man who repairs cameras. This is for our February issue, so I won’t reveal all now. But as we talked in his workshop, he also began to tell a story of celebrating imperfection. When an old Leica, Pentax or Hasselblad comes his way, he sees his job as getting shutters to blink again and ensuring mechanisms move with grace – but not making the camera as good as new. The wear and tear on the casing – the scratches and dents – are to be accepted. And more than that, they are to be cherished. These marks are the camera’s history.
We also got talking about photography as he runs a small lab. He said that the most compelling images are not ones that are technically perfect but rather those that tell a story on film and capture genuine moments. Really, who cares if the framing is slightly off.
Now, I don’t think it would go down very well if I started encouraging our fact-checkers to be less diligent, or our writers to stop honing their craft but, actually, there are moments when we also step away from perfection at Monocle. Let’s go back to those design pages. When looking for residences to be shot for the magazine, we too shy away from places where no life has been lived. We err instead towards houses and apartments that have books jammed on to shelves, where dogs are evidently welcome on sofas and where children run free. Like the camera repairman, we are drawn to places where the patina of use – bannisters burnished by generations of gripping hands; kitchen counters softened and striated by kneading and knife-wielding – carries in it the stories of the owners.
It feels as though we are all becoming more aware that the race to perfection comes with unbearable costs and that, too often, it can also involve the eradication of those stories, our connection, our past. So, this morning, here’s a toast (or perhaps just a slice of toast), to the dents, blemishes, scuffs and even the fret-etched wrinkles that make the imperfect just perfect.