Jonathan on design
What was it like working with Thomas Heatherwick?
We met at college, and the story of how involves me setting my hair on fire. We became close friends and worked together for years, on some extraordinary projects. He’s someone I could call at any time and pick up where we left off. That kind of relationship is forged in how people work through tough spots together.
Tom and I were making a bench for a project at Belsay Hall, an anti-love-seat, two people sitting back to back rather than facing each other. It was taking ages. We’d almost finished, the structure ready to veneer, when Tom paused and decided the curve needed to be more animated. It was enormously complicated to correct, close to remaking the whole thing, and I thought, is this detail worth the work? He was adamant something wasn’t quite right, and wouldn’t accept it until we’d fixed it. We talked a lot about perfectionism, and something he said stuck: perfection isn’t the goal, but it’s the standard you’re compromising from.
People know Tom as a designer and thought leader now, but he was an extraordinary maker first, skilled, and able to teach himself a technique and take it to the level of a fine craftsman. That grounding is why he can talk about making with real authority. I feel fortunate I knew him when it was just the two of us in a room, making things.
One product you wish you’d designed?
Tord Boontje’s Garland light. Laser-cut metal foil that ships flat through your letterbox, and you shape it around the bulb yourself, so every one ends up a slightly different form. I love that the making is handed to the customer, that the object isn’t finished until they’ve touched it. And it’s a solution I’d never have arrived at myself. The material is industrial, but he’s found a delicacy in it, and the light it throws is all shadow and pattern. Simple, but complex.
An everyday object that’s perfectly designed?
The egg carton. Proven, brilliant, completely recyclable. It transports eggs, keeps them safe, and throws away without a thought. Not over-elaborate, not over-branded. Perfect.
A material you keep coming back to?
Walnut. As a child my parents had an orchard with a huge walnut tree, and I had a swing on it. Back then all I knew about walnut was that I didn’t like the nuts. As an adult I’ve come round to them, and long ago fell for the timber, its beauty and sophistication. It’s my go-to when a client wants warmth, richness, that sophisticated quality in a piece.
Your design pet peeves?
Shaker furniture is a genuinely interesting period in our history. The thinking behind it, and how people interact and live in their homes, is fascinating. We’ve co-opted it as a style moniker to describe a pseudo traditional mash up, distilled down to the way something looks, and mislabeled. It really bothers me far more than it should.
What’s your favourite project you’ve worked on?
Teaming up with an events company, they asked us to make an installation on the terrace at the legendary nightclub Space in Ibiza. We’d completed quite a few projects where we’d had to work hard, pull all-nighters, or take on jobs that weren’t that illustrious, so flying the team out, working in that environment, staying in a cool hotel, and then hanging around a couple of extra days to party with my friends, felt pretty great.
And the worst?
A giant polystyrene installation for a marketing company, in Birmingham city centre. We took it on to get them out of trouble, and it was a huge mistake driven by needing the money. On the lorry up from London the whole thing was badly damaged, and we ended up rebuilding it on-site all night with the clients watching. A disaster start to finish.
The saving grace was a coincidence. The client who’d commissioned it turned up, sorted the trouble, and made sure we got paid. She turned out to be the daughter of a dinner lady at my father’s school, where he was head teacher, and she’d babysat me as a child. When we made the connection it was pretty wonderful. She completely saved my bacon.
What advice would you give someone starting out in design?
Keep doing personal work. Projects no one commissioned, that are about what you’re interested in and who you are. It’s how you find your own voice. It’s hard to sustain, and it takes time you may not have, but you’d be amazed how it feeds the paid work, and how it attracts it. Most design is delivering a service inside strict parameters. A personal project is the opposite. The freedom to do exactly as you like. Keep it at the centre of your working life, not at the edge.