Part of this universe is inhabited by designers and architects, categories always subject to the temptation to collect. Historical examples include Le Corbusier and the Eameses (who filmed their collections of objects, such as spinning tops). In Italy we had Achille Castiglioni. The master designer, his daughter Giovanna explains, “collected anonymous objects for his personal pleasure, to surround himself with things that spoke to him. Then he used them as examples during his classes at the Polytechnic, or as sources of inspiration: he observed them, gaining stimuli that could then lead elsewhere. From a pencil to flatware for Alessi, from a milking stool to a seat for Zanotta, from a tumbler to a lamp for Flos…”
Other modes of collecting have also developed. “I have typological fixations,” says Odo Fioravanti, who has collected objects since his college days, and owns about 2000 of them (“a very rough estimate”). “For example, I like kitchen timers and folding chairs. Or the products of a particular company (Braun, Tupperware). Or certain lines of products (objects in wood by Sottsass for Twergi).”
It is precisely this theme of typological reasoning that is coming back to the fore in the last few years, with exhibitions, books and studies. Through display and narration, the collection of a designer becomes a way to supply new perspectives on design and to attract a wider audience. The type-based exhibition, in fact (if well organized, displayed and captioned) sends clear messages about things, permitting an approach that would otherwise be unthinkable for non-professionals, and telling stories that express bonds of affection that enable us to truly appreciate objects. And, therefore, the project (conscious or not, anonymous or signed) behind the objects.