The Daily Telegraph - Saturday

Gaetano Pesce

Radical industrial designer behind cheeky Sixties conceits like the voluptuous ‘La Mamma’ chair

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GAETANO PESCE, who has died aged 84, was a flamboyant furniture designer and architect who rejected the machine-tooled perfection of Internatio­nal Modernism and embraced instead the happy accident, in candycolou­red gloops of resin and foam.

Inspired by Pop Art, he was not afraid to make objects that looked like recognisab­le things, such as an ashtray in the shape of Christ’s crucified hand (cigarettes to be stubbed out in the bloody stigma), or an oversized Anglepoise-style lamp, named “Moloch”, after the Old Testament god who demands human sacrifice. “With abstractio­n we cannot communicat­e. If I see something abstract, I can say I like it or that I don’t, and nothing more,” he told his biographer, Glenn Adamson.

He saw his duty as bearing witness to his times, and industrial design as a way to get his subversive ideas into thousands of homes. His most famous work, Up 5 (1969), nicknamed “La Mamma”, was a scarlet foam chair that arrived pancake-flat in a vacuum pack, but once opened, magically inflated into a voluptuous female form, somewhere between Brigitte Bardot and the Venus of Willendorf. Attached by a lead was a spherical foam ottoman (Up 6), which signified a prisoner’s “ball and chain”.

Gaetano intended it as a feminist protest. Later, however, he was criticised by second-wave feminists for trading off female sex appeal. (The manufactur­er’s adverts showcased the chair alongside sexy women in silver jumpsuits, and in

Diamonds Are Forever Bond girl Lola Larson drapes herself enticingly over it.) Others saw the chair and ottoman as mother and baby, connected by an umbilical cord. Pesce thought this dissent was “fantastic”.

Pesce was both fervently serious about his own work and seemingly immune to any pressure to be “grown-up” or “chic”. He communicat­ed big ideas with a childlike directness. His Golgotha table, for instance, dared to depict Christ’s tomb, with bloodred resin seeping out of the bricks, surrounded by chairs made from crumpled, resin-impregnate­d linen, representi­ng the Shroud of Turin. He was not above putting smiley faces on chairs to cheer people up.

He liked provocatio­n, because it “touches the stomach and then goes up to the brain”. Anti-authoritar­ian to his bones, he left Italy in 1968 for Paris because he objected to the art scene’s stifling adherence to communism. He had visited the Soviet Union as a teenager, and found it “hell”. He viewed the concrete-and-glass architectu­re of the Internatio­nal Style as a form of communism, riding roughshod over the difference­s between people.

His ideology was to celebrate difference. In furniture, this might mean experiment­ing with foam so that he could fill a chair mould and each time it would come out slightly different (his Sit Down series, 1975-80). In architectu­re, it meant designing an eclectic apartment block in Brazil, with each floor a different colour and shape.

He was described as “imperial in his bearing and imperious in his pronouncem­ents”, but his wacky visions turned out to be prescient. In 1989-93, in Osaka, he built an “organic” office block, its exterior a vertical garden, its interiors a radiant, colourful resin, like boiled sweets.

In 1994, in New York, he pioneered the office space of the future for an advertisin­g company, with a colourful, open-plan, communal fantasylan­d in which workers had no desks, but wheeled their computers around, or napped on sofas. This was all too much for 1994 – one employee compared it to “working inside a migraine” – but today his ideas are mainstream.

Pesce reinvented himself obsessivel­y, a principle he had enshrined aged 18 as “incoherenc­e”, out of fear of repeating himself. “I like to make things that people can’t tell are by me.” When he was asked to lecture in Paris on postmodern­ism, he alarmed his audience by turning up in a gas mask, claiming that the backward-looking postmodern­ism was “poison”.

He was born in the port of La Spezia, Italy, on November 8 1939. His Florentine father, a naval officer, died at sea soon afterwards, and Gaetano grew up near Venice. The dominant force in his life was his mother, a pianist from Este, who briefly sent him to an all-girls convent school. He later expressed the view that women should be masters of the universe.

Pesce studied architectu­re at the University of Venice, but took his education into his own hands, visiting chemical factories to see new materials, and was enchanted by dough-like polyuretha­ne foam. His dream of building a foam house, however, took half a century to realise.

He was converted to industrial design in the early 1960s by Milena Vettore, whom he met while hiding from the ticket collector in the baggage rack of a train. They formed an intense romantic and artistic union, which was abruptly ended when she died aged 27, in 1967, of a brain haemorrhag­e, which he blamed on the strong ultrasound of the machines they were using. (Despite this, he remained stubbornly laissez-faire about his toxic – and, if mishandled, explosive – materials, never wearing protective kit.)

He flew to Saigon during the Vietnam

War and was imprisoned in the 1968 Paris riots. By the age of 30, he had had a one-man show at MoMa in New York, and shut down the Louvre when his exhibition there leaked putrid meat juice. In 1980, after his mother’s death, he moved from Paris to New York.

In 2019, his bestsellin­g “La Mamma” chair was reissued to mark its 50th anniversar­y, and in 2022 he collaborat­ed with Glenn Adamson on a biographic­al survey, Gaetano

Pesce: The Complete Incoherenc­e.

In 2016, the British sculptor Anthea Hamilton made the Turner Prize shortlist for a a gigantic pair of male buttocks, being parted by two hands, based on an unrealised proposal by Pesce for an apartment-block doorway in Milan. His other unbuilt designs included an S-shaped bridge to connect Sicily to the Italian mainland.

Gaetano Pesce had a son and daughter, nicknamed Tato and Tata, with Francesca Lucco, who predecease­d him in 1997, and a daughter from another relationsh­ip.

Gaetano Pesce, born November 8 1939, died April 3 2024

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 ?? ?? Pesce and, above, Up 5, nicknamed ‘La Mamma’, connected to its ‘ball-and-chain’ foam ottoman
Pesce and, above, Up 5, nicknamed ‘La Mamma’, connected to its ‘ball-and-chain’ foam ottoman

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