MONSTER MASHUP.

INTRODUCTION

We make a lot of things at GG. We have big dreams about the the many ways our designs will be used and the people’s lives they’ll change. Yet, the moment we hand them over, their futures are no longer up to us. All we can do is turn our attention to the following project and continue making.

After all, it is human nature to build the next best thing, leaving relics of our achievements along the way. However, to be human is also to deal with unexpected consequences. From novel artistry to innovative technology, every work of genius slowly unfolds to reveal unforeseen effects. Only time will tell if our actions garner us the title of hero or villain, creator or destructor, maestro or monster. While last quarter was an exploration of unabashed creation, the next three months will focus on how we manage the aftermath of our progress. Welcome to “Monster Mashup.”

MONSTER MASH

We don’t know about you, but monotony would destroy us. The unpredictability of everyday life is what gets us out of bed in the morning. That comes with its fair share of missteps though. Thankfully, this decade has seen a shift in attitude toward failure. People share their relationship blunders on social media, show up to offices with zit patches, and discuss their mental health openly. Once hidden and shameful, flaws are now badges of honor that signify a work-in-progress attitude.

Lately, this mentality is extending beyond ourselves and into our surroundings. As we face corporate restructures, devastating wars, and environmental crises, it seems mammoth numbers of spaces and objects are left in the dust. Things no doubt designed with a different future in mind, they instead become reminders of failed decisions. It is near impossible not to empathize with them and do what we can to bring them back to glory. Meanwhile, as part of humankind, we are forced to reckon with our contribution to the wreckage. This bizarre combination of compassion and critique allows us to view ourselves and our environments as equals, both living works of art.

It is the perfect breeding ground for the rise of anthropomorphism. Or more accurately, anthropomorphism and zoomorphism. There is only a thin line between pitying discarded objects and transforming them into lovable, life-like fixtures through gestural forms, animalistic feet, and decorative jewelry. In the same way, it is easy to imagine the leap from painting ourselves as monsters to literally dressing up as such. What’s left are hybrid creatures on a sliding scale from off-putting to endearing that is entirely within our control to set.

IN THE WORLD

We see these critters emerge most obviously in fashion, where designers like Beate Karlsson, Bad Binch TONGTONG, and Daniel Roseberry transform garments into horse hoof boots, octopus dresses and judgement bags. Their avant-garde statement pieces blur the lines between human, animal, and product, often landing somewhere closer to mutant in the end. Outside of fashion, anthropomorphism takes hold in furniture and decor. Brett Douglas and Chris Wolston paint faces and weave appendages into their sculptural seating, giving the impression that each chair is welcoming you in for a bear hug. The concept even sneaks up in food, such as Lucy Sparrow’s “Feltz Bagels.” The pop up art exhibit, which is modeled after a New York deli, displays felted breads, bagels and cookies replete with googly eyes and stitched mouths. Though all odd, none of these creations veer into disturbing territory.

IN DESIGN

To better understand the rich history of anthropomorphism in design, we must turn our attention to what was once the most “alive,” and yes, disturbing, of all styles: Victorian. The Victorian era shares a surprising number of similarities to the 2020s. We could dive into any of the many parallels from natural disasters to organized feminism, but most relevant to our conversation today are those of massive progress and new spirituality.

Rapid industrial gains translated into extravagant homes built too big, too fast and too poorly. Though decadent on the surface with their heavy drapes and vaulted ceilings, they were plagued with creaky floors and leaky pipes due to their shoddy craftsmanship. As the impracticality of the meandering spaces and daily maintenance set in, Victorian houses were abandoned for smaller, simpler accommodations at record rates. Lavish neighborhoods became dilapidated ghost towns overnight. This exodus happened just as a new breed of spirituality emerged. Public seances to rid homes of spirits, likely imagined due to banging pipes and hallucinogenic vapors, became commonplace. These scenes inspired Dickens to relocate ghost stories from cemeteries to ordinary homes, in particular Victorians, a trend that has carried on since.

The end result was a perception that the sprawling properties were somehow alive. Swaying doors, shadowy furniture, and breathing floors were ready to lure you in should you come too close.

Though few haunted Victorians line our streets today, we have our fair share of newly abandoned monstrosities. From defunct shopping malls to unsellable McMansions and vacant corporate headquarters, our landscape is sprinkled with spaces too ostentatious for our current reality. With housing shortages, nostalgic aesthetics, and a fascination with anthropomorphism, we wonder what a little affection could do to enliven these buildings before they fall into disrepair.

With that in mind, we imagine the transformation of a classic office building into a co-living space for today’s creative class.

We begin by salvaging the remnants. Fluorescent panels become digital skylights, pillars turn into 360 degree mirrors, and exposed pipes act as makeshift cat trees. Then there is the layout. Though more logical than the labyrinth-like halls of Victorian homes, the 90s office is also a bit of a maze. Rows of cubicles create an endless grid that can serve as a footprint for its new life. The individual workstations are reimagined as third space nooks dedicated to communal leisure activities from dining to painting to reading. The traditional felt walls are replaced with tinted glass sheets that blur and distort objects into friendly ghosts, while doors and windows encourage the uninterrupted flow from one creative pursuit to another.

As for additive cues, we consider the dollhouse-ification of corporate style. Inspiration pulls from Victorian coquettes, the 90s, and our guiding principles of anthro and zoomorphism. Drab browns and whites are swapped for pasteled rave colors and skin inspired neutrals. At the same time, furry textiles, lumpy clays and silken finishes replace slick veneers and plastics. The hand crafted decor bursts with the energy of gestural arms, wide eyes and poised feet, each piece decorated to the nines with piercings and ribbons for a dainty flair. They seem to wave and wink at the inhabitants, all of whom don disproportionate furs, claws and ears beneath their own bows and jewelry making it difficult to tell what is living or not. Whichever it happens to be, a flirtatious undertone flows from the creatures. Perhaps we’ve been listening to too much T Swift, but it seems we can all be both the sexy baby and the monster on the hill.

How does this all come together? See below and let us know your thoughts.

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