If we are to continue to wish for the wish that is (or was) Heliopoli, we might do well to continue to see (or wish to see) its design elements outside of it, and one would be hard-pressed not to see the wish of Heliopoli in every inch of the Minimalist House.

This house in Japan, designed by Shinichi Ogawa & Associates, is laid out in three strips. The building is 18 meters wide and each section is 3 meters deep. It is essentially three rooms that are 18 by 3 meters each. The first section is a courtyard, open to the sky. The next serves as a bedroom, living room and workspace, separated from the courtyard by a glass wall. The third is the kitchen, bathroom and utility spaces.

The chief archivist is speechless: the open space, the white walls, the recessed lighting, the stark utility, the uncompromising peacefulness, the … well, minimalism. The sheer bliss.

As a bonus, the architects note that the exterior is coated in photocatalyst paint (whatever that might be), which evokes an impression that light makes the house come alive; or that the walls absorb images from their surroundings, releasing them at night; or that the house looks different in every photograph of it, an Impressionist’s dream.

The chief archivist would move in in a Heliopoli minute.

(Seen on Dezeen)

There are some things one can find in the world that embrace and embody the design of Heliopoli, even if not found in Heliopoli itself — though, if you asked the chief archivist, he would say they originated in that city and escaped before it was shut down, leaving no examples behind.

Be that as it may, the Egg Chair, or Ovalia, is one such object. Designed by Henrik Thor-Larsen, it was exhibited for the first time at the Scandinavian Furniture Fair in 1968. The chair was sold up to 1978 and was in demand throughout the world. It was relaunched with a few improvements in 2005.

Though owing much to Eero Aarnio’s 1963 Ball Chair, Ovalia deserves its place in the history of furniture design in the Heliopoli mode. Touted on its website as a “chair with a lot of attitude,” the Ovalia embraces encapsulation, self-containment, the geometricism of its time, and spaceship (regrettably retro) aesthetic. It begs to be fitted out with stereo speakers.

No wonder the designer is pictured at such ease in his chair. One cannot doubt the optimism of the future whilst sitting in it. One cannot do other than move forward in time.

With Ovalia, one has landed. One has arrived.

The chief archivist will take an orange one, please.

Designer Henrik Thor-Larsen sits in his Egg Chair.

Images: press photos from www.ovalia.com

Oh, the orb. If it didn’t sound so silly for the city of Heliopoli to have an official shape, it would be the orb — though it might run a close second to the circle.

Nevertheless, the orb dominates the forms of all lighting fixtures in Heliopoli. No one knows why for sure. Even the fiberoptic lamps with their rainbow sprays can’t match the orb.

The orb is a fixture in 1970s design. It produced pleasurable effects in the movie Sleeper and festooned an entire planet in “Space: 1999.” And who remembers the set of “The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour”? Even the chief archivist himself still owns an orb lamp from circa 1970 that to this day sits on his nightstand. The orb shade has had to be replaced twice due to accidental breakage, but it sits atop the original square of yellow plastic, secure in its orbic supremacy over all other lamps, however much a fire hazard it might now be. Measure your life in coffee spoons? This lamp has witnessed almost his entire life. The remnant of a Bicentennial sticker is still somewhere fixed upon it.

Wherefore the orb? Whither did it go? We may talk of zeitgeists and strange attractors, chaos theory and snowball effects, but it would come to nothing. It is not for us to speculate on. It is not of our time. And yet –

and yet –

could they each be a mini sun, after all?

A set of the Groovy chair designed by Pierre Paulin in 1973, manufactured by Artifort, which recently held a jubilee in celebration of the designer’s 80th birthday and 50th year designing for that company; which would go so well with his ribbon chair; and would look, of course, just plain groovy, please.

Thanks.

The chief archivist

It should come as little or no surprise that 573 ribbon chairs have been discovered in the excavation of the city of Heliopoli.

The Ribbon Chair was designed by the French designer Pierre Paulin in 1965 and manufactured by Artifort in 1966. It won the Chicago Design Award in 1968. It came in a variety of colors and represented a beautiful marriage between sculpture and function.

A website dedicated to an exhibition of Paulin’s work at the Galerie Alain Gutharc in Paris in 2000 has this to say about the designer: “A man of the future, Paulin scattered his path with poetic objects that were ahead of their time and whose rediscovery more than 30 years later inspire admiration.”

Truer words were never spoken.