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Is There Bauhaus in IKEA?
To mark the 90th anniversary of the Bauhaus, Germany, more than any other country, has been celebrating the occasion with earnest intensity, looking to confirm any influence the Bauhaus design philosophy has had on contemporary design around the world. The Bauhaus is supposed to serve the needs of the people, and the people today are largely served by global retail chains. So I undertook an inspection of one of the world’s biggest retail chains for evidence of Bauhaus principles in action. I wanted to detect any melodic strains, however faint, of the Bauhaus in the booming marching-band music of IKEA.
Ninety years ago, Walter Gropius founded the Bauhaus on humanistic principles. “Our guiding principle was that design is neither an intellectual nor a material affair, but simply an integral part of the stuff of life, necessary for everyone in a civilized society,” Gropius reflected in 1962 (Gropius, Walter. “My Conception of the Bauhaus Idea,” Scope of Total Architecture. Ed. Walter Gropius. New York: Colliers, 1962. 6-19). “Our conception of the basic unity of all design in relation to life was in diametric opposition to that of ‘art for art’s sake’ and the much more dangerous philosophy it sprang from, business as an end in itself.”
Gropius intended his principles to be a moral check on industrialism. The strict ideologies of elitist art and materialist business were dangerous in isolation, threatening to erase the human spirit. Gropius wanted designers to bring art and business together to serve the needs of people — all people.
The designs — the chairs, the buildings — arose from those principles. To extract principles from the objects is to work backwards. There is no reason today that you can’t start with those original Bauhaus principles, create objects that are not severely geometric, and end up somewhere completely different, with designs appropriate for contemporary needs. In other words, IKEA doesn’t have to copy the style of Bauhaus objects or reproduce classic Bauhaus chairs to express an affinity with Bauhaus principles, like creating good design for the way people actually live.
Ninety years ago, Walter Gropius founded the Bauhaus on humanistic principles. “Our guiding principle was that design is neither an intellectual nor a material affair, but simply an integral part of the stuff of life, necessary for everyone in a civilized society,” Gropius reflected in 1962 (Gropius, Walter. “My Conception of the Bauhaus Idea,” Scope of Total Architecture. Ed. Walter Gropius. New York: Colliers, 1962. 6-19). “Our conception of the basic unity of all design in relation to life was in diametric opposition to that of ‘art for art’s sake’ and the much more dangerous philosophy it sprang from, business as an end in itself.”
Gropius intended his principles to be a moral check on industrialism. The strict ideologies of elitist art and materialist business were dangerous in isolation, threatening to erase the human spirit. Gropius wanted designers to bring art and business together to serve the needs of people — all people.
The designs — the chairs, the buildings — arose from those principles. To extract principles from the objects is to work backwards. There is no reason today that you can’t start with those original Bauhaus principles, create objects that are not severely geometric, and end up somewhere completely different, with designs appropriate for contemporary needs. In other words, IKEA doesn’t have to copy the style of Bauhaus objects or reproduce classic Bauhaus chairs to express an affinity with Bauhaus principles, like creating good design for the way people actually live.
Bottom line: if the Bauhaus were alive in IKEA, I had to go to IKEA to look for it.
I had never been to an IKEA store until March of this year. Hard to believe? Ah, but I grew up in the Midwest, and during my childhood, there were no IKEA stores. I had not even a single IKEA desk lamp or futon in any of my college dorms or apartments. In fact, I think I first heard about IKEA while watching the movie Fight Club in 1999. Edward Norton’s character was reacting against IKEA, and I was so out of the cultural zeitgeist I had no idea what he was talking about.
Today there are 231 IKEA stores in twenty-four countries, but it was news when IKEA opened a store in Michigan a few years ago, and it was news when IKEA recently opened a store here in North Carolina, where I now live. I am more familiar with Target, Costco and Walmart, and I detect in myself a reflexive Midwestern suspicion of IKEA, with its foreign pretentiousness, European colors and arrogant cleverness. IKEA may be as unquestionably assimilated into your life as Starbucks, Apple, and the Gap, and so I ask that you make an imaginative leap, entertain the unlikely existence of an IKEA virgin, and bear with me.
The new IKEA store less than an hour from my house was massive. I exited the highway, and a blue and yellow monolith rose on the horizon. The store was the horizon.
Once inside the lobby, I clung to the dotted trail on the floor. The store inspires an existential panic that I would call severe, and I imagined that a psychology graduate with a background in cartoons or cartography came up with the dotted line as a means to still the soul. “Follow me,” says the line, “and we’ll get through this together.”
I would have preferred to follow the painted shoeprints of Walter Gropius (a perfect square for the heel perhaps, a perfect parabolic half-egg for the sole), but there was only the white wandering stitch. Women shopped serenely in this aquarium of bright pebbles and jeweled bubbles. Men blinked and touched things for confirmation, sighed, then searched for another safe anchor point up ahead. I moved carefully from leaning towers of nested wastebaskets to dangerous ziggurats of dessert plates to the shelves of blue glasses set into cardboard sleeves like little employees in cubicles.
I passed from area to area in an efficient disorientation, never meandering somewhere that I had to back out of, never making a mistake. I was able to keep moving, never trip, and feel almost graceful, like a novice dancer led by an invisible instructor. I was afraid to stop. I understood that the store’s designers had mapped out the geography of the consumer experience, and I hoped IKEA would soon upgrade the system to a ride, like at Disney World (“It’s a Mall World, After All”). Or else I could sit on a bar stool as the IKEA products floated by like sushi on trays.
I moved naturally through the store, but the proportions were off, as if I’d stumbled into a city built for kids and laid out sprawling inside a sports arena. I was overwhelmed by the size of the store and disoriented by the small scale of the products. I was Alice in IKEAland and had nibbled from a cake labeled “Eat Me.” I doubted anyone in marketing at IKEA had recently visited Walmart and actually taken a good look at the size of Americans. We’re huge. Not even our children can sit in these chairs. As for me, I was simply too tall for any of their chairs or tables or countertops. This was bad news for my house and for Bauhaus. It wasn’t good design if I couldn’t use it. It wasn’t practical if it didn’t fit.
Brown is the color scheme of too many suburbs, from cream and beige to mocha and walnut. So I do appreciate that the giant hand of IKEA has stuck pinwheels of contrarian color in the drab concrete. But the utopia of IKEA is a colorful, plastic world of straight lines and little chairs. Why clean house when you can play house? The Bauhaus was no match for dictatorships and the market economy. Since its founding in 1943, IKEA has not yet met its match. It has expanded into building homes and sponsoring web shows and there are rumors that it might make a car and sponsor a movie. Maybe the Bauhaus just needed a food court and a theme park.
I had never been to an IKEA store until March of this year. Hard to believe? Ah, but I grew up in the Midwest, and during my childhood, there were no IKEA stores. I had not even a single IKEA desk lamp or futon in any of my college dorms or apartments. In fact, I think I first heard about IKEA while watching the movie Fight Club in 1999. Edward Norton’s character was reacting against IKEA, and I was so out of the cultural zeitgeist I had no idea what he was talking about.
Today there are 231 IKEA stores in twenty-four countries, but it was news when IKEA opened a store in Michigan a few years ago, and it was news when IKEA recently opened a store here in North Carolina, where I now live. I am more familiar with Target, Costco and Walmart, and I detect in myself a reflexive Midwestern suspicion of IKEA, with its foreign pretentiousness, European colors and arrogant cleverness. IKEA may be as unquestionably assimilated into your life as Starbucks, Apple, and the Gap, and so I ask that you make an imaginative leap, entertain the unlikely existence of an IKEA virgin, and bear with me.
The new IKEA store less than an hour from my house was massive. I exited the highway, and a blue and yellow monolith rose on the horizon. The store was the horizon.
Once inside the lobby, I clung to the dotted trail on the floor. The store inspires an existential panic that I would call severe, and I imagined that a psychology graduate with a background in cartoons or cartography came up with the dotted line as a means to still the soul. “Follow me,” says the line, “and we’ll get through this together.”
I would have preferred to follow the painted shoeprints of Walter Gropius (a perfect square for the heel perhaps, a perfect parabolic half-egg for the sole), but there was only the white wandering stitch. Women shopped serenely in this aquarium of bright pebbles and jeweled bubbles. Men blinked and touched things for confirmation, sighed, then searched for another safe anchor point up ahead. I moved carefully from leaning towers of nested wastebaskets to dangerous ziggurats of dessert plates to the shelves of blue glasses set into cardboard sleeves like little employees in cubicles.
I passed from area to area in an efficient disorientation, never meandering somewhere that I had to back out of, never making a mistake. I was able to keep moving, never trip, and feel almost graceful, like a novice dancer led by an invisible instructor. I was afraid to stop. I understood that the store’s designers had mapped out the geography of the consumer experience, and I hoped IKEA would soon upgrade the system to a ride, like at Disney World (“It’s a Mall World, After All”). Or else I could sit on a bar stool as the IKEA products floated by like sushi on trays.
I moved naturally through the store, but the proportions were off, as if I’d stumbled into a city built for kids and laid out sprawling inside a sports arena. I was overwhelmed by the size of the store and disoriented by the small scale of the products. I was Alice in IKEAland and had nibbled from a cake labeled “Eat Me.” I doubted anyone in marketing at IKEA had recently visited Walmart and actually taken a good look at the size of Americans. We’re huge. Not even our children can sit in these chairs. As for me, I was simply too tall for any of their chairs or tables or countertops. This was bad news for my house and for Bauhaus. It wasn’t good design if I couldn’t use it. It wasn’t practical if it didn’t fit.
Brown is the color scheme of too many suburbs, from cream and beige to mocha and walnut. So I do appreciate that the giant hand of IKEA has stuck pinwheels of contrarian color in the drab concrete. But the utopia of IKEA is a colorful, plastic world of straight lines and little chairs. Why clean house when you can play house? The Bauhaus was no match for dictatorships and the market economy. Since its founding in 1943, IKEA has not yet met its match. It has expanded into building homes and sponsoring web shows and there are rumors that it might make a car and sponsor a movie. Maybe the Bauhaus just needed a food court and a theme park.
IKEA clearly tips the Bauhaus balance in favor of business. IKEA’s success, however, might prove that consumers care less about the Bauhaus emphasis on lasting value and a humane society than they do about buying cheap stuff right now. (IKEA’s sales were up seven percent in 2008, and to its credit, in 2008 IKEA announced its GreenTech initiative, in which it was investing in green technologies for the development of products, like solar panels and more efficient lighting, to sell in its stores; of course, the payoff is years away.) For IKEA, form does not follow function. It follows price. IKEA claims it battles elitism, but it really battles cost. “Our biggest idea is the smallest price,” reads an IKEA catalog. Compare this (rather unfairly, I realize) with a statement by Walter Gropius: “We aimed at realizing standards of excellence, not creating transient novelties.”
After about an hour in IKEA, I had one desire left: to complete the course, as if I were a contestant on Ninja Warrior or Unbeatable Banzuki (IKEA Warrior? Unbeatable IKEA?). Emerging into a warehouse so grand it looked computer-generated, I thought I glimpsed down one of the aisles a group of students attending a lecture. Yes, yes, if IKEA could build homes and make movies, then surely the IKEA store itself was big enough to contain its own design school. Perhaps the Bauhaus existed down one of these aisles, dismantled, wrapped in plastic, stored on pallets, waiting to bestow degrees on those customers willing to put it back together.
In the first half of the twentieth century, design reacted to industrialization, world wars, poverty, inflation, and class divisions. The Bauhaus arose out of a reaction to disastrous world politics and the inhumanity of urban living conditions, from the bullying architecture of the powerful to the class divisions perpetuated by luxuries only the rich could afford. By contrast, IKEA has evolved over time to refine a much narrower, and perhaps humbler, mission: to make home furnishings look good and cost less. The Bauhaus responded to the social urgencies after the First World War. What has succeeded the social inspiration of the Bauhaus is the business inspiration of retail giants like IKEA, which pursues a business model for the global marketplace.
Today, with the crash of world markets, design must more fully confront and re-evaluate its role in global business. This is what Bauhaus principles are all about: taking stock of the present states of technology, business and culture and crafting reasonable designs for the way we live now. A glut of cheap, uniform products in the marketplace can no longer be a virtue of global business. To pursue Bauhaus principles in the future, IKEA will have to increase the personalization of its products, improve ergonomics, reduce wastefulness and increase quality in order to create lasting value for the consumer. (This is true of any major manufacturer, not just IKEA; “General Motors, we have a Second Chance on line two.”)
The quickest way to kill a concept is to call it “utopian.” This is what the Bauhaus and IKEA have in common. They are strategies for better living. They are easy targets. Of course, there is no utopia here on Earth, and so we marshal Schopenhauerian compassion for all of us stuck here in this life, in this storehouse, suffering the grays of time and the blues and yellows of happy people’s balloons. We have bought our products, pursued prosperity, and reached its dead end. Now what? IKEA Island off the shores of Dubai?
At the end of my first IKEA journey, I bought nothing — I needed nothing (which itself is a luxury, I know) — but I still had that empty, dizzy feeling as if I had eaten corndogs at a carnival. I walked out to the parking lot. My car was out there somewhere, one horse of hundreds grazing on the asphalt prairie. Civilization touched everything, like sunlight. I had stopped following the white dotted trail. I stood still beneath the clouds. I pressed the black keypad again and again, hoping to hear the whinnying response of my car’s horn and see the flash of its headlights. I wanted to go home. But what was home? The question was like a sucker punch. Home. Of course. This was the real question for our sprawling, mobile, independent generation, I thought, as seagulls pecked near the cart corral. I would have to make a choice. In the distance, purple perennials sprouted at the cloverleaf interchange.
After about an hour in IKEA, I had one desire left: to complete the course, as if I were a contestant on Ninja Warrior or Unbeatable Banzuki (IKEA Warrior? Unbeatable IKEA?). Emerging into a warehouse so grand it looked computer-generated, I thought I glimpsed down one of the aisles a group of students attending a lecture. Yes, yes, if IKEA could build homes and make movies, then surely the IKEA store itself was big enough to contain its own design school. Perhaps the Bauhaus existed down one of these aisles, dismantled, wrapped in plastic, stored on pallets, waiting to bestow degrees on those customers willing to put it back together.
In the first half of the twentieth century, design reacted to industrialization, world wars, poverty, inflation, and class divisions. The Bauhaus arose out of a reaction to disastrous world politics and the inhumanity of urban living conditions, from the bullying architecture of the powerful to the class divisions perpetuated by luxuries only the rich could afford. By contrast, IKEA has evolved over time to refine a much narrower, and perhaps humbler, mission: to make home furnishings look good and cost less. The Bauhaus responded to the social urgencies after the First World War. What has succeeded the social inspiration of the Bauhaus is the business inspiration of retail giants like IKEA, which pursues a business model for the global marketplace.
Today, with the crash of world markets, design must more fully confront and re-evaluate its role in global business. This is what Bauhaus principles are all about: taking stock of the present states of technology, business and culture and crafting reasonable designs for the way we live now. A glut of cheap, uniform products in the marketplace can no longer be a virtue of global business. To pursue Bauhaus principles in the future, IKEA will have to increase the personalization of its products, improve ergonomics, reduce wastefulness and increase quality in order to create lasting value for the consumer. (This is true of any major manufacturer, not just IKEA; “General Motors, we have a Second Chance on line two.”)
The quickest way to kill a concept is to call it “utopian.” This is what the Bauhaus and IKEA have in common. They are strategies for better living. They are easy targets. Of course, there is no utopia here on Earth, and so we marshal Schopenhauerian compassion for all of us stuck here in this life, in this storehouse, suffering the grays of time and the blues and yellows of happy people’s balloons. We have bought our products, pursued prosperity, and reached its dead end. Now what? IKEA Island off the shores of Dubai?
At the end of my first IKEA journey, I bought nothing — I needed nothing (which itself is a luxury, I know) — but I still had that empty, dizzy feeling as if I had eaten corndogs at a carnival. I walked out to the parking lot. My car was out there somewhere, one horse of hundreds grazing on the asphalt prairie. Civilization touched everything, like sunlight. I had stopped following the white dotted trail. I stood still beneath the clouds. I pressed the black keypad again and again, hoping to hear the whinnying response of my car’s horn and see the flash of its headlights. I wanted to go home. But what was home? The question was like a sucker punch. Home. Of course. This was the real question for our sprawling, mobile, independent generation, I thought, as seagulls pecked near the cart corral. I would have to make a choice. In the distance, purple perennials sprouted at the cloverleaf interchange.
Comments (37) | JUMP TO MOST RECENT COMMENT >>
I love this essay.
I've been to IKEA many times, and I have exactly the same disorienting experience you so brilliantly describe. Thanks to that experience, I vow, after each visit, never to return. But here I sit at my IKEA desk, with the IKEA bookshelves in the next room. Some of my son's IKEA toys are scattered on the floor downstairs. And my wife and I ponder purchasing some IKEA wardrobes to solve a closet shortage until we can tackle a major remodel. So I do keep going back. Why?
I don't even like the vast majority of their products that much. Many of them are cheaply made and just plain ugly, not really well designed at all. They're simply junk. Plus, philosophically speaking, I'd ideally prefer to buy furniture that might be around long enough for my great grandchildren to enjoy (you can be sure that the IKEA stuff won't be), but that kind of quality tends to be very expensive. IKEA does have a lot of products--bookshelves and desks being prime examples--which strike a perfect balance between utility, decent looks, and affordability. I suppose that is what keeps me going back, despite myself and despite the horror of the experience, and despite the fact that so many of their products are crap. Or should I spell it "Krap?"
I've been to IKEA many times, and I have exactly the same disorienting experience you so brilliantly describe. Thanks to that experience, I vow, after each visit, never to return. But here I sit at my IKEA desk, with the IKEA bookshelves in the next room. Some of my son's IKEA toys are scattered on the floor downstairs. And my wife and I ponder purchasing some IKEA wardrobes to solve a closet shortage until we can tackle a major remodel. So I do keep going back. Why?
I don't even like the vast majority of their products that much. Many of them are cheaply made and just plain ugly, not really well designed at all. They're simply junk. Plus, philosophically speaking, I'd ideally prefer to buy furniture that might be around long enough for my great grandchildren to enjoy (you can be sure that the IKEA stuff won't be), but that kind of quality tends to be very expensive. IKEA does have a lot of products--bookshelves and desks being prime examples--which strike a perfect balance between utility, decent looks, and affordability. I suppose that is what keeps me going back, despite myself and despite the horror of the experience, and despite the fact that so many of their products are crap. Or should I spell it "Krap?"
Another thing I beg to differ: the Swedes have been addressing ergonomics for a long time! IKEA had it in their repertoire since day one!
One shining example of Swedish ergonomic + Modern design: Bruno Mathsson. IKEA's POÄNG Chair takes inspiration from Mathsson's chairs designed in the 1930s!
I think your research has just begun. You've addressed the very surface points. Now it's time to find out more about democratic design and the close relationship between IKEA and Bauhaus
One shining example of Swedish ergonomic + Modern design: Bruno Mathsson. IKEA's POÄNG Chair takes inspiration from Mathsson's chairs designed in the 1930s!
I think your research has just begun. You've addressed the very surface points. Now it's time to find out more about democratic design and the close relationship between IKEA and Bauhaus
You forgot to address the glaring gap between the Bauhaus and Ikea: labor. Gropius and his cohorts were trying to design new products that could be produced and sold as part of the efforts to rebuild Europe after the first World War. Ikea designs products that can be produced in the third world, far away from reasonable wages, environmental standards, or safety regulations. Somehow I doubt that Gropius would approve.
Thanks, Rob. I think you summed up very nicely and personally the baffling paradox of being a consumer today, whether you're shopping at Walmart, Costco, Ikea, Amazon, or out of catalogs from Pottery Barn or Crate & Barrel. Despite being self-aware, even critical, human beings, we often confront the binary choice: to buy or not to buy? And somehow the impulse or the habit or the ease with which the purchase can be made influences that binary choice with a little nudge in one direction or the other. One day we're fed up with ourselves, the next day we're eating out of the bowl.
One graphic designer recently asked me how she can resolve this tension between her love of designing things and the end result of pumping more, as you say, "Krap" out into the world. Rather than taking a running start and diving onto the Slipe & Slide of ecogreenspeech, I told her to start with herself, her own desires, her sense of her own story of her life. What's your story? What are you after? I think rising up to that kind of awareness of oneself can assist both the designer and the consumer in turning the binary choice of to buy or not to buy into a more complex choice: does this design or product or choice help me and my life story or does it hurt me or distract me? Anyway, gratzi, Rob.
As for the scale of Scandinavians, yes, Deborah and tsongtze, I agree, they're tall, super tall in some cases, but that just makes it even more ironic that people who tend to be tall prefer teeny tiny chairs and counters that come up to their knees. Honestly, I don't know why the scale of the products is so small, other than a price reason. And I do think it's likely the price and the simplicity, rather than any ergonomics, that keeps consumers coming back.
One newsy note: Ikea this year has plans to lay off 5,000 workers around the world. So economics is forcing some consumers to stay home and attend to their life stories of going without.
One graphic designer recently asked me how she can resolve this tension between her love of designing things and the end result of pumping more, as you say, "Krap" out into the world. Rather than taking a running start and diving onto the Slipe & Slide of ecogreenspeech, I told her to start with herself, her own desires, her sense of her own story of her life. What's your story? What are you after? I think rising up to that kind of awareness of oneself can assist both the designer and the consumer in turning the binary choice of to buy or not to buy into a more complex choice: does this design or product or choice help me and my life story or does it hurt me or distract me? Anyway, gratzi, Rob.
As for the scale of Scandinavians, yes, Deborah and tsongtze, I agree, they're tall, super tall in some cases, but that just makes it even more ironic that people who tend to be tall prefer teeny tiny chairs and counters that come up to their knees. Honestly, I don't know why the scale of the products is so small, other than a price reason. And I do think it's likely the price and the simplicity, rather than any ergonomics, that keeps consumers coming back.
One newsy note: Ikea this year has plans to lay off 5,000 workers around the world. So economics is forcing some consumers to stay home and attend to their life stories of going without.
Wow, what an article. As a native Swede I have grown up with IKEA all around me. After I left Sweden to go to college in America IKEA has come to mean more to me than it did before. IKEA is now a part of who I am in this country, it is something that feels like home to me, something that is familiar and makes sense.
The feeling the author expresses when he walks though IKEA is a feeling my father and other males have expressed for years every time they are done with an IKEA trip. They tell their wives that “if you ever make me go here again I want a divorce” (and we all know they came back, since all Swedes houses are filled with IKEA furniture). So I can assure you that you are not the only man who doesn’t want to go back to IKEA. But at the same time I wonder if that part of your post would have been different if a woman wrote it. I personally love to go to IKEA, even when I don’t need anything, just to walk around and look at things, and don’t forget about the meatballs!
The feeling the author expresses when he walks though IKEA is a feeling my father and other males have expressed for years every time they are done with an IKEA trip. They tell their wives that “if you ever make me go here again I want a divorce” (and we all know they came back, since all Swedes houses are filled with IKEA furniture). So I can assure you that you are not the only man who doesn’t want to go back to IKEA. But at the same time I wonder if that part of your post would have been different if a woman wrote it. I personally love to go to IKEA, even when I don’t need anything, just to walk around and look at things, and don’t forget about the meatballs!
The good design label that Ikea patrons bestow upon the company and its products continues to mystify me. For one, the products can (at best) withstand 1-2 moves; in other words, when I moved my Ikea bookshelf 10 miles in a Uhaul, it barely survived. Poor craftsmanship, shoddy materials, and rickety structure do not equal good design. A bookshelf from one of their competitors (who I will not name) survived that (10 mile) move, plus a cross-country move (3,000 miles) from Seattle, Washington to Charlotte, North Carolina. The Ikea bookshelf, although held together with duct tape and blankets, did not survive.
And don't even get me started on the crammed stores, narrow walkways, and Area-51-looking warehouse at the store's checkout area. Gropius is turning over in his grave.
And don't even get me started on the crammed stores, narrow walkways, and Area-51-looking warehouse at the store's checkout area. Gropius is turning over in his grave.
I appreciate this big-picture look at IKEA, but I would also enjoy an actual evaluation of their furniture. It may be cheaply manufactured, but it can also drastically simplify a living space.
As consumers we probably deserve better than IKEA offers--and yet, it's preferable to the dowdy, old-fashioned furniture stores located in hard-to-reach corners of the U.S. For those of us whose furniture options are curtailed by our bank accounts and places of residence, IKEA is a breath of fresh air.
As consumers we probably deserve better than IKEA offers--and yet, it's preferable to the dowdy, old-fashioned furniture stores located in hard-to-reach corners of the U.S. For those of us whose furniture options are curtailed by our bank accounts and places of residence, IKEA is a breath of fresh air.
Fantastic read. Much appreciated perspective. IKEA is a breath of fresh air in the world of home decor, and although Target's college line is increasingly similar in aesthetic, no one can compete with the range of products IKEA has to offer.
Jason A. Tselentis makes a great point: IKEA products don't last. My family and I have changed residences 11 times in 7 years of marriage, are likely to do so again in the spring. I hope my pieces last!
Jason A. Tselentis makes a great point: IKEA products don't last. My family and I have changed residences 11 times in 7 years of marriage, are likely to do so again in the spring. I hope my pieces last!
This is very nicely written. While I don't understand WANT as applied to IKEA, I do understand NEED. As noted, given the alternatives, IKEA serves a purpose both functionally and aesthetically to those on a limited budget. No, they are not heirloom products. But they are perfect for students and young families starting out ... and there are certain items that serve as staples to some of us. The Billy bookcase, while not great for moving (though if you must, dismantle it and it will ship fine), is a simple, functional, good-looking bookcase that I regularly go back for (while dreading the visit). Tsongtze mentioned the POÄNG ... what a chair! I've had one for eternity, and mine now lives outside, and still it won't die: always comfortable too.
Ideally, I'd rather buy something by a local furniture maker, though they are hard to find; or some lovely piece of modernism which unfortunately costs a bomb. That's the true irony of Gropius' intent: the very things designed by and around the principles of the Bauhaus are now the most expensive and elite products on the market.
Ideally, I'd rather buy something by a local furniture maker, though they are hard to find; or some lovely piece of modernism which unfortunately costs a bomb. That's the true irony of Gropius' intent: the very things designed by and around the principles of the Bauhaus are now the most expensive and elite products on the market.
Jason Tselentis wrote: The good design label that Ikea patrons bestow upon the company and its products continues to mystify me.
I don't think it is the patrons bestowing that upon IKEA--I think it is IKEA bestowing it upon itself, and the patrons are simply falling for this brash marketing ploy. Possibly part of the reason they fall for it is that they simply are not qualified to judge what constitutes "good design." How many IKEA patrons would think that product longevity and durability are part good design? Isn't it enough that IKEA products somehow LOOK stylish, modern, contemporary, colorful, efficient--and maybe even a bit witty? Why would we need to pass them along to our grandkids? Of course, IKEA also does that marketing thing where they show, for example, the mechanical chair tester which purports to demonstrate that their chairs are durable. We are convinced to think that they are producing quality, but it is all really a marketing ploy. And when we get our IKEA office chair home, it breaks after fewer than 5 years, as mine did. This belies the "quality" marketing message. (I now sit on a much more costly Aeron Chair, which has lasted far, far longer.)
In the end, I think IKEA really is just all about marketing. I think the marketing is superficial, and they may even touch on some Bauhaus ideals in their marketing message. But, I'm not sure that what they are *really* doing carries on much of the Bauhaus mission.
I don't think it is the patrons bestowing that upon IKEA--I think it is IKEA bestowing it upon itself, and the patrons are simply falling for this brash marketing ploy. Possibly part of the reason they fall for it is that they simply are not qualified to judge what constitutes "good design." How many IKEA patrons would think that product longevity and durability are part good design? Isn't it enough that IKEA products somehow LOOK stylish, modern, contemporary, colorful, efficient--and maybe even a bit witty? Why would we need to pass them along to our grandkids? Of course, IKEA also does that marketing thing where they show, for example, the mechanical chair tester which purports to demonstrate that their chairs are durable. We are convinced to think that they are producing quality, but it is all really a marketing ploy. And when we get our IKEA office chair home, it breaks after fewer than 5 years, as mine did. This belies the "quality" marketing message. (I now sit on a much more costly Aeron Chair, which has lasted far, far longer.)
In the end, I think IKEA really is just all about marketing. I think the marketing is superficial, and they may even touch on some Bauhaus ideals in their marketing message. But, I'm not sure that what they are *really* doing carries on much of the Bauhaus mission.
One Bauhaus-iah aspect to IKEA was the use of Futura as one of their corporate fonts. For me Futura was IKEA (I could never use Futura without thinking of allen keys and flat-packs). Futura (whilst not designed at the Bauhaus exactly... but 'kinda sorta' was – it sprung up at the same time in Germany) has now been ditched in favour of Verdana – a screen font!
http://www.idsgn.org/posts/ikea-says-goodbye-to-futura/
http://www.idsgn.org/posts/ikea-says-goodbye-to-futura/
Much like David I grew up with no knowledge of IKEA, but I got to see it from the inside as a visual merchandiser. Shortly after the behemoth of a store had opened in the suburbs of Dallas, and before I knew what to do with my college degree, it fit with my vaguely anti-establishment mindset to work somewhere with a contemporary style, an exotic heritage, and an explicitly socialist outlook (quite a statement in that part of Texas during the Bush years).
At first I was excited - a distinctly new organization was successfully expanding, beating WalMart at its own game and providing better products (if only marginally), all while providing staff with hot meals and a strong culture. They even recycled!
Of course I was overwhelmed by the immense scale and incredible variety of IKEA's stuff. Where I grew up it's customary in some circles to shop for food with a flat-bed truck in immense Sam's Clubs warehouses and to make weekly trips to each of the city's many sprawling malls, yet even there IKEA manages to stand out for its scale. I could only assume they did it on purpose - a direct continuation of the consumption-as-entertainment and scale-as-status value system (so perfectly iconized by the Hummers in the vast parking lot) - to placate Texans suspicious of the new, the foreign, and the designed.
After the warmth and personal attention of the brief intake process faded, I attributed the chill of the place to a sort of Swedish efficiency - too focused on work to stay and chat, rather than simply impersonal. But after working long hours in that vast space hanging and lighting commodity (mostly) housewares, I saw that the company really is about that _stuff_.
Straightening endless arrays of soft and hard goods gave me plenty of time to daydream about a broader social and political context in which to understand the company, but the only meaning I could see behind it all was the sheer economy of scale.
At first I was excited - a distinctly new organization was successfully expanding, beating WalMart at its own game and providing better products (if only marginally), all while providing staff with hot meals and a strong culture. They even recycled!
Of course I was overwhelmed by the immense scale and incredible variety of IKEA's stuff. Where I grew up it's customary in some circles to shop for food with a flat-bed truck in immense Sam's Clubs warehouses and to make weekly trips to each of the city's many sprawling malls, yet even there IKEA manages to stand out for its scale. I could only assume they did it on purpose - a direct continuation of the consumption-as-entertainment and scale-as-status value system (so perfectly iconized by the Hummers in the vast parking lot) - to placate Texans suspicious of the new, the foreign, and the designed.
After the warmth and personal attention of the brief intake process faded, I attributed the chill of the place to a sort of Swedish efficiency - too focused on work to stay and chat, rather than simply impersonal. But after working long hours in that vast space hanging and lighting commodity (mostly) housewares, I saw that the company really is about that _stuff_.
Straightening endless arrays of soft and hard goods gave me plenty of time to daydream about a broader social and political context in which to understand the company, but the only meaning I could see behind it all was the sheer economy of scale.
I go into Ikea with a list of things I want, but come out with lots of things I don't need. I am amazed that you escaped without purchasing anything despite the relentless surroundings. Once I get to the tills I have to fight the urge not to just dump everything and escape, but find this can be offset by copious quantities of meatballs halfway round the store.
I am not sure about whether Bauhausian principles are in place as when there I am driven mainly by price and a compulsion to buy which is fed by the design of the store: you may have to travel some distance to get there; you have an idea of what you want; you don't want to leave empty-handed.
I am not sure about whether Bauhausian principles are in place as when there I am driven mainly by price and a compulsion to buy which is fed by the design of the store: you may have to travel some distance to get there; you have an idea of what you want; you don't want to leave empty-handed.
I literally just finished reading "Utopia" yesterday. The Utopian idea of design is one of reducing objects down to the simplest form - the idea being to negate greed and the accumulation of wealth. It's a kind of communism. Everyone wears the same design of clothing in the same colour - they have one set of clothes because there's no need for any more. All material posessions fulfil a functional purpose, and they are free, supplied by the state. Gold, silver and jewels are the playthings of children which adults grow out of - they have no value because they have no function.
In Utopia, design = consumption.
Consumption = waste.
So they keep design to a minimum.
In Utopia, design = consumption.
Consumption = waste.
So they keep design to a minimum.
It's really Muji that follows the bauhaus' philosophy. Items can be inexpensive but they are expensive when appropriate, furniture for instance, and they are made to a higher standard in both design and manufacture.
Particle board, wood-grain cardboard and those incredibly cheesy cast aluminum components you are supposed to assemble these pieces with convinced me a long time ago that IKEA = disposable furniture. Yes, there are good things, but show me a piece that can survive 1/2 hour in a drizzle, and I'll guarantee you it is in the upper tier of their price range.
Like the author my first penetration by IKEA was recent and with waves of trauma, but the negatives were overshined by the "stuff" in my trunk, together with returning energy from meatballs, good coffee, and a new household vision. The stuff put me closer to the clean esthetic of modern design. I could see the growth of my home now more in terms of surface and geometry than decor and detail. And I thank IKEA for making this affordable for me. You see, I am non-designer, and I can speak from the ordinary American home. What I can afford is not expensive. The design I see is what I find in the stripmalls of my working-class city. And most of that stuff gives me a mental fatigue that is reduced or gone with IKEA stuff (actually, the subset I like). It may be not be great or enduring but it is a major step up for me.
So, when I saw the letters “BAUHAUS” next to “IKEA” in the headline of this post, I hoped I would learn more about “the aesthetics of living,” and the benefits of those aesthetics being within reach. Obviously now, that would be a different article.
So, when I saw the letters “BAUHAUS” next to “IKEA” in the headline of this post, I hoped I would learn more about “the aesthetics of living,” and the benefits of those aesthetics being within reach. Obviously now, that would be a different article.
The distilled pontifications of the Bauhaus supposedly purported to bring "design" to the "masses", improve the quality of life, bring a utopia. The curiousity is how much is a true reflection of of the thought behind, how much is post design design speak, how much is a scribes edited notes fromlate night cognac and cigars intelectualizing and talk.
Unfortunately the masses were and ever more so aselect group who could afford to join the bespoke everything club.
The "knock offs" have always been derided, although there are many instances where the sibling is better. The main problem being that they expanded the boundary of the club, more members, less exclusivity.
Ikea has long suffered the notion that it's products are some how made from are inferior. The truth is that the product, it's components and materials are equal to the market they are competing in. They are in fact driving up the quality of the middle of the range. If you look at the changes in construction over time, they are significant. The buyer gets to look under the hood, they are often surprised by the truth.
What ikea had solved is how to fit together components manufactured anywhere from Germany to Malayasia in any location in the world. When you by a product requiring assembly, you get exactly what you need. Nothing more nothing less. Vehicle manufacturers are the only other industry to do this. In this case a company not an industry.
Are they only ones to do this? Surely this more than meets the Bauhaus ideal.
You don't even need to know how to read to assemble. Everything is drawn. The graphics are worth writing about. There ia complexity to understanding that some find challenging. But follow the diagrams exactly and mistakes are few. Again doesn't this meet the Bauhaus ideal ofbeing for the masses?
I amnot sure why you would review in this way. Surely going to any large big box store, and many smaller I certainly have the same mental reaction. Macy's a classic.
Unfortunately the masses were and ever more so aselect group who could afford to join the bespoke everything club.
The "knock offs" have always been derided, although there are many instances where the sibling is better. The main problem being that they expanded the boundary of the club, more members, less exclusivity.
Ikea has long suffered the notion that it's products are some how made from are inferior. The truth is that the product, it's components and materials are equal to the market they are competing in. They are in fact driving up the quality of the middle of the range. If you look at the changes in construction over time, they are significant. The buyer gets to look under the hood, they are often surprised by the truth.
What ikea had solved is how to fit together components manufactured anywhere from Germany to Malayasia in any location in the world. When you by a product requiring assembly, you get exactly what you need. Nothing more nothing less. Vehicle manufacturers are the only other industry to do this. In this case a company not an industry.
Are they only ones to do this? Surely this more than meets the Bauhaus ideal.
You don't even need to know how to read to assemble. Everything is drawn. The graphics are worth writing about. There ia complexity to understanding that some find challenging. But follow the diagrams exactly and mistakes are few. Again doesn't this meet the Bauhaus ideal ofbeing for the masses?
I amnot sure why you would review in this way. Surely going to any large big box store, and many smaller I certainly have the same mental reaction. Macy's a classic.
Very well written. For two years I could walk through an IKEA without suffering a dizzying disorientated feeling.
I just wrote a paper about 20th Century design manifestos. I agree, Gropius would disagree with the system of production that IKEA uses to achieve it's low prices - not to mention the cheap materials they use.
I have several items from IKEA that may end up in a landfill, of course this is dependent on my willingness to fix them. The desk I work at is from IKEA. I love it but I've moved twice since purchasing it and the lamination is already coming off. I've considered boycotting for this reason. I don't want to purchase something that I know will need repair.
I just wrote a paper about 20th Century design manifestos. I agree, Gropius would disagree with the system of production that IKEA uses to achieve it's low prices - not to mention the cheap materials they use.
I have several items from IKEA that may end up in a landfill, of course this is dependent on my willingness to fix them. The desk I work at is from IKEA. I love it but I've moved twice since purchasing it and the lamination is already coming off. I've considered boycotting for this reason. I don't want to purchase something that I know will need repair.
It's relevant to the IKEA comparison to consider how the Bauhaus philosophy evolved from an emphasis on handcraft, combined with a reaction against the poor quality of mass production, toward an acceptance of mass production as a venue for industrial design. IKEA embodies this latter direction, for both good and bad.
Many dismisss the shoddy quality of what Douglas Coupland called "semi-disposable Swedish furniture" in _Generation X_. But I think it's important to acknowledge that IKEA offers a great range in quality. We are all familiar with their crap quality furniture, but that's because it's such a good value, relatively speaking, that we have all been forced to own it in our less affluent days. Their more expensive products are often a good value as well.
Many dismisss the shoddy quality of what Douglas Coupland called "semi-disposable Swedish furniture" in _Generation X_. But I think it's important to acknowledge that IKEA offers a great range in quality. We are all familiar with their crap quality furniture, but that's because it's such a good value, relatively speaking, that we have all been forced to own it in our less affluent days. Their more expensive products are often a good value as well.
Great post about the shopping aspect of IKEA. When I intially saw the title, Is There Bauhaus in IKEA?" I thought it was going to be a critique about how the products of IKEA hold up against Bauhaus ideals. While you touch on that briefly, this post was more about the shopping experience. Did the Bauhaus ever talk about shopping? I would be very curious if they did. I've always thought of the Bauhaus being directly connected with the products, not the warehouse that holds them.
Now shopping is our first encounter with products, so it makes sense that the shopping experience would reflect the products itself.
Given the great job you did describing your shopping experience at IKEA, i'd like to hear you expound about the design of IKEA products further.
Now shopping is our first encounter with products, so it makes sense that the shopping experience would reflect the products itself.
Given the great job you did describing your shopping experience at IKEA, i'd like to hear you expound about the design of IKEA products further.
I think there is some well-designed stuff at IKEA, particularly in the kitchen area, and occasionally in furniture and lighting. But for the most part the quality of the materials is crappy. I particularly remember a wooden bedframe that, upon closer examination, had wood grained contact paper playing the role of wood. The question I've been asking myself is if they spent 10 or 20% more on the materials and workmanship, there would be a quantum improvement in the overall product. And the stuff might actually make it to your grandkids. I'd pay for it, but maybe they would be laying off 10,000 workers instead of 5,000.
Reading some of the comments, I just don't see the glamour in leaving some of the furniture "for the grandkids." Every generation wants to purchase something for their home, setting it up in a way they want to, not salvage old warderobes from their grandparents'. It's no longer the age where furniture costs and arm and a leg and you will find your grandparents' items do not posess any other value apart from sentimental.
IKEA: "The IKEA Concept is based on offering a wide range of well designed, functional home furnishing products at prices so low that as many people as possible will be able to afford them. Rather than selling expensive home furnishings that only a few can buy, the IKEA Concept makes it possible to serve the many by providing low-priced products that contribute to helping more people live a better life at home."
BAUHAUS: "One of the main objectives of the Bauhaus was to unify art, craft, and technology. The machine was considered a positive element, and therefore industrial and product design were important components."
So tell me how is IKEA not living up to it's credo? Besides the people apparantly being surprised that the IKEA furniture is not supposed to last, but allows you to upgrade and update the way your house looks without feeling remorse for dumping the old stuff.
I, for one, am glad not to have to receive old furniture from parents.
And before IKEA you had very little choice in the US for getting simple functional and cheap furniture. IKEA finally gave people the option not to have to go for that same cheap standard american household style. Just like Bauhaus gave the world a whole new style (but it never ever ever was cheap)
BAUHAUS: "One of the main objectives of the Bauhaus was to unify art, craft, and technology. The machine was considered a positive element, and therefore industrial and product design were important components."
So tell me how is IKEA not living up to it's credo? Besides the people apparantly being surprised that the IKEA furniture is not supposed to last, but allows you to upgrade and update the way your house looks without feeling remorse for dumping the old stuff.
I, for one, am glad not to have to receive old furniture from parents.
And before IKEA you had very little choice in the US for getting simple functional and cheap furniture. IKEA finally gave people the option not to have to go for that same cheap standard american household style. Just like Bauhaus gave the world a whole new style (but it never ever ever was cheap)
I really like this article, I think it is very observant of our current culture and love-hate relationship of necessity and good design. As someone just starting out and graduating college though, I feel Ikea has the only affordable furniture that can possibly accomodate where I live and make me feel like I can actually stand the site of it. What would you suggest, that I save all of my money for Design Within Reach, I feel that these comments I am reading are becoming a little elitist themselves.
This would have been a nice illustration for this essay. Nice read.
http://eins78.com/i/2009/07/bauhausikea-foto-post.jpg
http://eins78.com/i/2009/07/bauhausikea-foto-post.jpg
Interesting article. There is a lot that I do not know about IKEA.
I love this post because it describes the shopping experience so accurately. It's not just IKEA that is turning a quick shopping trip into an all-day experience. Today, stores are set up intentionally to distract customers and get them to buy more than they intended to. The dotted line that "creates a path" to follow through the store is the biggest joke because the overwhelming size of the store and vast majority of products is so distracting.
The fact that the products are designed to be organizational and aesthetically pleasing, while geared for the budget-conscious-person, enables the consumer to buy a lot more than they intended. That's the goal of every store.
The fact that the products are designed to be organizational and aesthetically pleasing, while geared for the budget-conscious-person, enables the consumer to buy a lot more than they intended. That's the goal of every store.
Ikea when first in the U.S. was more "Modern", but cheap. I first visited them in Virginia and California. A lot of very simple stuff. Dorm room and new family furniture. Now they have some soft products, pattern, better quality, etc. They are a bit like Leica. They resist change and change slowly. But they do update.
When I lived in the midwest near Minnesota, I was really surprised there was no Ikea in Minneapolis. That town is made for what an Ikea sells. I think a few years later one opened in Chicago (biggest in the U.S. and always packed) and I think there is, finally, an Ikea in Minneapolis.
But I have stopped shopping at Ikea. I hate building my own furniture! Also, I bought some light fixtures (when I lived far from an Ikea) and the darn things did not fit the built in power box at the dry wall. Later, I stupidly bought more at another house. Same problem.
Now I shop at local stores which are matching Ikea with "Modern" or contemporary lines of their own and the stuff (usually) fits.
When I lived in the midwest near Minnesota, I was really surprised there was no Ikea in Minneapolis. That town is made for what an Ikea sells. I think a few years later one opened in Chicago (biggest in the U.S. and always packed) and I think there is, finally, an Ikea in Minneapolis.
But I have stopped shopping at Ikea. I hate building my own furniture! Also, I bought some light fixtures (when I lived far from an Ikea) and the darn things did not fit the built in power box at the dry wall. Later, I stupidly bought more at another house. Same problem.
Now I shop at local stores which are matching Ikea with "Modern" or contemporary lines of their own and the stuff (usually) fits.
Hmm, this is a neat article. That the question as to IKEA and Bauhaus was raised at all suggests that IKEA is being considered. It is either creating the surface appearance of, or actually delivering in some respects.
I am going to dive into the discussion.
Affordable design in a global economy where workers can only afford what is manufactured elsewhere in ways that are both sometimes unfair to the workers doing it, and certainly unfair to the workers not doing it. In other words, we buy goods manufactured in emerging countries. Our jobs have gone there. The workers doing it sometimes endure conditions we would not tolerate or perhaps would not be legal in developed countries.
So, right off the bat, the shopper is depressed. There is something wrong. We feel it deep down inside. We know it. But, we need T-shirts. We need a couch, and we do not have a lot of money. Off we go to Target and Ikea.
We put all that aside. Is there any Bauhaus left then, in our budget shopping experience? Does a tiny beam of Bauhaus light steal into our Ikea and Target shopping experiences?
I'll start with Target. I bought half a dozen Moschino T-shirts at Target for a price I could afford. Moschino is a company that hires designers that care about design. They are aiming for something when they draw and cut a T-shirt. The line/cut is more flattering, the, cotton is softer, and they have held up well. Moschino's Target line is more affordable than its boutique line.
The T-shirts were made in Gautemala. I don't know if the workers were paid fairly. I am reasonably sure the workers were not artists and not of a shared artistic spirit. I am sure they were desperate for steady jobs. I rather doubt they feel an ownership pride in those T-shirts, but who knows, I haven't been to the factory.
But i felt the love of the designer in those T-Shirts and was able to acquire it for a worker's pay. The love reached me, perhaps a shadow of what it should be, but we are starving for it and take it where we can get it.
To Ikea: A potholder. The cheapest potholder at Ikea was dangerous. The heat went right through it. An utter failure of function. Utter failure. The second cheapest potholder was thick macrame cotton. It works very very well, is very durable and a very simple sturdy design.
There is a bookshelf called the Enteri at Ikea. They no longer carry it but you can find pictures of it online. I have read design sites that actually praise Ikea's "Billy" bookshelf line, but I don't see it. The materials are lousy and there is nothing you can do to improve it.
The Enteri is a metal frame with cheap fake wood shelves. The shelves slide out. It is easy to use. It is not unattractive. I would say it could be a better item. The metal frame could be improved in contruction and design. But, the upside of the Enteri is that, unlike the Billy, you can improve the Enteri a lot.
You can stripe the mat silver finish on the metal frame, do a new patina of gun blue or brass black, wax it and voila, bif inprovement.
You can chuck the flimsy shelves and replace them with real wood boards or any other material and make the shelves far more durable and beautiful.
There are other hit or miss items at IKEA that are well made and durable. But it seems like one in five or ten items strike this mark.
I have an IKEA lamp that you would not identify as an IKEA lamp unless you knew.
The fixtures that hold the lampshade could be inproved as well as the lampshade itself, but the rest is really very good. It is solid metal, an undulating design, it screws together easily in two sections and then screws to a simple base. The metal is heavy, solid, not sheet metal, and very durable. This lamp is very attractive too. It's called the EKARP lamp and I have the floor model. I think the table model is still in their online catelog.
The undulating metal reminds me of Brancusi's bases. Brancusi never did a dead dull base for his sculptures. He always put a great deal of thought into how to the bases. It's also a remake of a famous lamp pedestal design, but I can't remember whose.
Now, someone who cares about design designed these items. No one who cares about design designs items for WalMart that I can see. THere is no helping the WalMart items.
So, caring about design is a form of love and it reaches me, trickled bits of it here or there.
I am someone who tends to make things I need and I care very much about their being sturdy, beautiful, lasting forever. I am not one to go out and fill my house with stuff I bought cheap and half like. I am picky. These three items from IKea I bought and of the three I'd say two really needed no help -- the lamp and the potholder.
As to the economic structures within which they were manufactured, it's a strange one, out of whack.
I am going to dive into the discussion.
Affordable design in a global economy where workers can only afford what is manufactured elsewhere in ways that are both sometimes unfair to the workers doing it, and certainly unfair to the workers not doing it. In other words, we buy goods manufactured in emerging countries. Our jobs have gone there. The workers doing it sometimes endure conditions we would not tolerate or perhaps would not be legal in developed countries.
So, right off the bat, the shopper is depressed. There is something wrong. We feel it deep down inside. We know it. But, we need T-shirts. We need a couch, and we do not have a lot of money. Off we go to Target and Ikea.
We put all that aside. Is there any Bauhaus left then, in our budget shopping experience? Does a tiny beam of Bauhaus light steal into our Ikea and Target shopping experiences?
I'll start with Target. I bought half a dozen Moschino T-shirts at Target for a price I could afford. Moschino is a company that hires designers that care about design. They are aiming for something when they draw and cut a T-shirt. The line/cut is more flattering, the, cotton is softer, and they have held up well. Moschino's Target line is more affordable than its boutique line.
The T-shirts were made in Gautemala. I don't know if the workers were paid fairly. I am reasonably sure the workers were not artists and not of a shared artistic spirit. I am sure they were desperate for steady jobs. I rather doubt they feel an ownership pride in those T-shirts, but who knows, I haven't been to the factory.
But i felt the love of the designer in those T-Shirts and was able to acquire it for a worker's pay. The love reached me, perhaps a shadow of what it should be, but we are starving for it and take it where we can get it.
To Ikea: A potholder. The cheapest potholder at Ikea was dangerous. The heat went right through it. An utter failure of function. Utter failure. The second cheapest potholder was thick macrame cotton. It works very very well, is very durable and a very simple sturdy design.
There is a bookshelf called the Enteri at Ikea. They no longer carry it but you can find pictures of it online. I have read design sites that actually praise Ikea's "Billy" bookshelf line, but I don't see it. The materials are lousy and there is nothing you can do to improve it.
The Enteri is a metal frame with cheap fake wood shelves. The shelves slide out. It is easy to use. It is not unattractive. I would say it could be a better item. The metal frame could be improved in contruction and design. But, the upside of the Enteri is that, unlike the Billy, you can improve the Enteri a lot.
You can stripe the mat silver finish on the metal frame, do a new patina of gun blue or brass black, wax it and voila, bif inprovement.
You can chuck the flimsy shelves and replace them with real wood boards or any other material and make the shelves far more durable and beautiful.
There are other hit or miss items at IKEA that are well made and durable. But it seems like one in five or ten items strike this mark.
I have an IKEA lamp that you would not identify as an IKEA lamp unless you knew.
The fixtures that hold the lampshade could be inproved as well as the lampshade itself, but the rest is really very good. It is solid metal, an undulating design, it screws together easily in two sections and then screws to a simple base. The metal is heavy, solid, not sheet metal, and very durable. This lamp is very attractive too. It's called the EKARP lamp and I have the floor model. I think the table model is still in their online catelog.
The undulating metal reminds me of Brancusi's bases. Brancusi never did a dead dull base for his sculptures. He always put a great deal of thought into how to the bases. It's also a remake of a famous lamp pedestal design, but I can't remember whose.
Now, someone who cares about design designed these items. No one who cares about design designs items for WalMart that I can see. THere is no helping the WalMart items.
So, caring about design is a form of love and it reaches me, trickled bits of it here or there.
I am someone who tends to make things I need and I care very much about their being sturdy, beautiful, lasting forever. I am not one to go out and fill my house with stuff I bought cheap and half like. I am picky. These three items from IKea I bought and of the three I'd say two really needed no help -- the lamp and the potholder.
As to the economic structures within which they were manufactured, it's a strange one, out of whack.
Terrible typos! Forgive me.
Excellent article. Thought provoking.
In my experience most Ikea furniture looks better in its catalogs than it does in person. And I'd wager that it looks better in the showroom/warehouse than it does after its lived in a customer's home for a year or two.
As someone who has built a considerable amount of furniture, from purely practical bookcases and shelves to near-heirloom Shaker reproductions, I've found myself quietly appalled at the flimsy character of most of their furniture. As a cabinet maker one comes to appreciate the benefits of veneer plywood. But most Ikea casegoods aren't plywood. They are a paper-thin veneer over chipboard. And the inexpertly-assembled flat-pack construction (a necessity of Ikea's low-cost distribution business model) results in furniture with a lifetime measured in months rather than decades.
I'm also concerned about Ikea's use of tropical hardwoods in their laminate flooring. A trendy wood floor that gets ripped up in five or ten years is not good enough reason to decimate New Guinea's forests of Tuan.
People think that they are getting a "good deal" by buying an Ikea bookshelf for $60, rather than buying a more durable (to say nothing of attractive) craftsman built one for $500. But if the shelves sag after six months, and the bookcase itself is thrown away within five years - then the craftsman built piece, one that can be cherished by generations yet unborn - is both economically, and ecologically, the better deal.
In my experience most Ikea furniture looks better in its catalogs than it does in person. And I'd wager that it looks better in the showroom/warehouse than it does after its lived in a customer's home for a year or two.
As someone who has built a considerable amount of furniture, from purely practical bookcases and shelves to near-heirloom Shaker reproductions, I've found myself quietly appalled at the flimsy character of most of their furniture. As a cabinet maker one comes to appreciate the benefits of veneer plywood. But most Ikea casegoods aren't plywood. They are a paper-thin veneer over chipboard. And the inexpertly-assembled flat-pack construction (a necessity of Ikea's low-cost distribution business model) results in furniture with a lifetime measured in months rather than decades.
I'm also concerned about Ikea's use of tropical hardwoods in their laminate flooring. A trendy wood floor that gets ripped up in five or ten years is not good enough reason to decimate New Guinea's forests of Tuan.
People think that they are getting a "good deal" by buying an Ikea bookshelf for $60, rather than buying a more durable (to say nothing of attractive) craftsman built one for $500. But if the shelves sag after six months, and the bookcase itself is thrown away within five years - then the craftsman built piece, one that can be cherished by generations yet unborn - is both economically, and ecologically, the better deal.
Thanks for an interesting essay. I see your points and agree that Ikea is overrated in many ways, but there is no doubt that Ingvar Kamprad (the IK in IKEA) is business genius. He knows what people want, - what most of us want, anyway. Affordable decent furniture in plain design, and in recent years also lots of household items. It's plain economics, as you Americans understand so well, and as you do equally well in shops like Walmart and Target.
I live in Denmark and as my better half loves the shop, I'm often dragged into the giant Ikea labyrinth, which naturally is designed to keep people spending as much money as possible. Shopping there is a nightmare (for men), no doubt about that, but it helps if one goes right before closing time.
A fair share of Ikea's furniture has lousy quality, but there is also pieces that are as sturdy as in most furniture shops and usually at lower prices. I've bought two kitchens from Ikea (btw, we Scandinavians are tall, and the countertop is 95cm above floor, which is higher than most kitchens I've seen in the US) and the quality of the last one is very good. No solid wood of course, but it's not in that price range either. My bathroom furniture is also bought there, and it works very well and has a great practical design (double sink, clean lines).
Ikea is not meant for people who afford hand-made furniture. It's not meant for people who can pay 500$ for a bookshelf (btw, a craftsman-built shelf would cost way more than that over here!). It's meant for people with low or normal income who have more important things to spend money on than furniture craftsmen.
By all means, there are many good reasons to buy locally made products instead of furniture made in Vietnam, but it very often boils down to a question of cost. Just as for the textile industry, car industry, and so many others.
I live in Denmark and as my better half loves the shop, I'm often dragged into the giant Ikea labyrinth, which naturally is designed to keep people spending as much money as possible. Shopping there is a nightmare (for men), no doubt about that, but it helps if one goes right before closing time.
A fair share of Ikea's furniture has lousy quality, but there is also pieces that are as sturdy as in most furniture shops and usually at lower prices. I've bought two kitchens from Ikea (btw, we Scandinavians are tall, and the countertop is 95cm above floor, which is higher than most kitchens I've seen in the US) and the quality of the last one is very good. No solid wood of course, but it's not in that price range either. My bathroom furniture is also bought there, and it works very well and has a great practical design (double sink, clean lines).
Ikea is not meant for people who afford hand-made furniture. It's not meant for people who can pay 500$ for a bookshelf (btw, a craftsman-built shelf would cost way more than that over here!). It's meant for people with low or normal income who have more important things to spend money on than furniture craftsmen.
By all means, there are many good reasons to buy locally made products instead of furniture made in Vietnam, but it very often boils down to a question of cost. Just as for the textile industry, car industry, and so many others.
Actually, you're right about the size of the furniture; I'm English, and the furniture fits me and everybody I know, whereas when I holiday in the States, I'm swamped by most ordinary furniture.
Very interesting article.
I believe that IKEA is a footprint of our times. Why compare it to Bauhaus?
I was reading about this guy that vowed never to return to IKEA still many of his furniture at home was bought there... That is exactly what we are living today. Convenience design. Design within reach. Easy design. Fast design.
Another thing we are living these days is the breaking of cultural barriers. The global village. Easthetics are becoming global. The paradigm of beauty and good design is becoming more uniformal.
So yes, Bauhaus models and values are more well intentioned and democratic but that was then. This are our times.
Im reminded of my grandma; she said: In my times this and that was better...
I believe that IKEA is a footprint of our times. Why compare it to Bauhaus?
I was reading about this guy that vowed never to return to IKEA still many of his furniture at home was bought there... That is exactly what we are living today. Convenience design. Design within reach. Easy design. Fast design.
Another thing we are living these days is the breaking of cultural barriers. The global village. Easthetics are becoming global. The paradigm of beauty and good design is becoming more uniformal.
So yes, Bauhaus models and values are more well intentioned and democratic but that was then. This are our times.
Im reminded of my grandma; she said: In my times this and that was better...
Everyone has a first experience at IKEA. It is big, it is cheap. But then, after looking deeper, it is fundamentally different from WalMart/Target/Costco/Kmart.
Labor: Eastern Europe not China.
Lumber: Sustainably certified not South American rainforest.
Chemicals: Fire retardant and formaldehyde free.
The worst part about IKEA is the path. But this too is a design solution. Oh, its not for you, its for the bottom line. The more you see the more you buy. How do American stores solve this problem: they painfully rotate the entire shelves of the store at least annually! Once again IKEA has a better solution.
Labor: Eastern Europe not China.
Lumber: Sustainably certified not South American rainforest.
Chemicals: Fire retardant and formaldehyde free.
The worst part about IKEA is the path. But this too is a design solution. Oh, its not for you, its for the bottom line. The more you see the more you buy. How do American stores solve this problem: they painfully rotate the entire shelves of the store at least annually! Once again IKEA has a better solution.
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David Barringer is an author, freelance writer, graphic designer, photographer, and artist. He grew up in Michigan. He now lives with his family in North Carolina.More Bio >>
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08.27.09 at 10:03