Folding Armchair 1877 - 1886

Editor: We’re looking at George Jakob Hunzinger's "Folding Armchair," crafted sometime between 1877 and 1886. It's currently at the Met. Made of wood, it’s…striking. It’s almost aggressively geometric, isn’t it? All these sharp angles, rigid grids, and repeating forms… what do you make of its design? Curator: Indeed. Note how the construction negates notions of support and load-bearing—that articulation between the rectilinear modules appears inherently unstable. The eye, instead of resolving any structural logic, registers an anxious, almost vertiginous assembly. Do you perceive a relationship between the "striped" frame and the woven seat and back? Editor: Well, they both have this linear quality, one being three-dimensional stripes and the other, a grid. The seat seems almost delicate compared to the robust frame. I suppose it creates a visual tension. Why use such different patterns and densities? Curator: Precisely. This divergence fractures any straightforward interpretation. Hunzinger draws the viewer into the chair's visual plane, then subtly undermines the legibility, provoking an aesthetic dilemma. Consider also the miniature spires capping the upper frame; what purpose might they serve? Editor: They feel…almost like an afterthought. Unnecessary adornment? Is he playing with the line between functionality and art? Curator: Yes. The vertical thrust they propose is immediately mediated by their diminutive stature and isolated position. Hunzinger creates an internal tension using opposing lines within a tight space and that makes it quite novel. The artist's sensibility moves beyond simple functionality and evokes contemplation by means of pure, unexpected composition. Editor: I never would have seen all that. I appreciate how you focus on line and form instead of any story. Thank you for this perspective. Curator: My pleasure. Considering how structure impacts the visual reading of objects helps one recognize meaning from unexpected elements and arrangements.