By di Matilede Battistini
“One should work on several things at once. It is the most productive way, one thing benefits from another, and each is more itself, purer. The ideas that come are sent each to where it is most suitably placed, since there are more places waiting for it” Paul Valéry.
Ironic, unconventional, almost unclassifiable, since he does not like definitions and avoids over-narrow categories of thought and action. Lorenzo Palmeri (Milan 1968), architect and interior designer, is one of a select group of designers who believe in the value of diversity in the approach to design. His biography is a successful example. He graduated in architecture and studied musical composition at the Milan Conservatory, devoting himself with equal talent to the design of objects and musical production. With one particular bee in his bonnet: the quest for ever different ways to make matter resound and to give resonance to form, gesture and the idea.
These two passions, complementary and parallel, have led him over the years to design musical instruments which have become the stuff of legend. Like the Paraffina Slapster guitar (Noah, 2006), chosen by Lou Reed on his last world tour as a pet object for its special sound and sinuous, sensuous shape. Or the Mandala electronic keyboard (Korg Italy, 2006), a musical instrument capable of establishing an analogic relationship, an intimate and emotional rapport, with its player. It’s no accident that for years his office was called Ellepidesign, in a tribute to two parallel universes – architecture (number embodied in form) and music – which since the dawn of time have been interwoven and interpenetrated.
Palmeri is also a songwriter. His debut album, Preparativi per la pioggia (Nun Flower/Edel), had as guest artists Franco Battiato, Saturnino, Davide Ferrario, Livio Magnini and Andy of the Bluvertigo, and as the cover artists the best of the generation of Italian designers born between the mythical sixties and seventies: Paolo Ulian, Marco Ferreri, Giulio Iacchetti, Matteo Ragni, Odoardo Fioravanti and JoeVelluto.
His experiments continue to focus on sounds that certain materials awaken in unexpected ways, like his series of musical instruments made of stone (lithophones and wind bells), which he is developing for various firms. He is fully aware that any experimental work always needs to be embedded in reality and has to extend the everyday relation between man and his objects of use or affection.
“I like working on the potential concealed in forms and materials, which distinguish objects with new functions and semantic values by playing ironically and purposefully on contrasting sides of perception.”
What sound associations does the word marble arouse in you?
Marble is a natural material, it awakens archetypal memories and elicits a series of profound craft skills in the techniques and practices of fabrication that have been applied to it historically. In my work I start from these methods established in time and then look for original methods of fabrication, forms and functions.
You like people who are experimental, unflagging designers with unfailingly inquiring minds. Significantly your teachers were Bruno Munari, Isao Hosoe and, though only as a role model, David Byrne of Talking Heads. What did they convey to you?
In all of them I found the idea that the process is much more important than the goal. That the project is a journey to be undertaken with curiosity and a sense of wonder, discovering uncharted paths and leaving yourself open to unexpected encounters. This is a playful attitude, intended not as lack of engagement but as dedication and total immersion in the undertaking you’re intent on. This is one of the lessons I learned from them.
How do you relate to the materials you use?
Every material, just like every person, has its own aura and its own inner behavioral logic. It is the material itself that, in a certain sense, shows you how you should relate to it and approach it with different kinds of behavior. This applies above all to a material as dense in semantic connotations as marble, which immediately suggests the concepts of weight, gloss, polish and opulence. In my work I always seek to discover unexpected connections between materials, forms and the gestures that people perform in using objects. In the case of the Vaso Paso (Up Group, 2009), for example, I tried to reverse the perception of marble as a heavy, inert material, one sometimes associated with ideas of stasis and death, by creating an object capable of expressing lightness of life and movement: a ballet vase in the act of a dancer performing synchronous dance steps.
The irregularities that confer a “human” dimension on hand-crafted objects appeal to you. How do you reconcile this attitude of yours with working on a material like marble?
The interest I feel for marble lies in its “imprecision,” the essence of its naturalness. Cracks, veining and unevenness are the features that attract me in marble. Onto them I engraft my vision of design and technical achievement only in order to respond as fully as possible to the semantic connotations or practical features of the object that I’m designing. This is the case in particular with the design and production of musical instruments, which have to meet very specific standards of harmony, use and design.
Can you describe your techniques when working with marble?
In the case of Moai (Carrara Design, 2011), a set of wind bells in Carrara marble, I worked on the varying ability of marble to ring in different tones using different widths of the apertures that could be made in stone. The result is seven slats with a mimic appearance each of which plays a different note.
Are you planning further experiments with marble?
I’m interested in working on the semantic shift in a material such as marble. Revealing its hidden face, for example its lightness as against the heaviness naturally associated with it, and depicting new modes of use in areas not traditionally seen as compatible with it.
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