The utilitarian function is really clear, yet retains a lot of aesthetic baggage.
An organized system dictates how they are produced.
They mimic a structural element by engaging with the ceiling, which is usually a place of [exposed]
structure: lights, ducts, etc…The ceiling is a place to quarantine character at a safe distance.
The eye becomes the lens and the translation from object to image, or material to information, is an effect of this use of overhead space.
They are adaptable and changeable but the fact is there really aren't many choices available and
most are not subjective.
It’s a structural necessity that looks like a choice.
By being knowingly forced into this perspective, you're entering into an immersive experience—and
this is partially dependent on height— that is somewhat disorienting.
It fabricates the extension of the plane, even though it's clearly a container of some type, like a corral or tray.
The indiscriminate quality of a container is what justifies using such disparate objects. Stuff can more or less just be dumped onto or into it and it has a leveling out, homogenizing effect.
They are plumb simply because that makes them less likely to fall.
The way the objects get arranged is determined by the apparent function of the surface on which they rest.
They needed to have an end, something that ruins the moment of visually exiting the room.
It utilizes the horizontality of the plane in service of something other than just a space for resting
A viewer literally tries to find a comfort zone… where is it comfortable to stand and look?
There’s something about improvising or problem solving that's pure and makes perfect sense; you
have this thing, you need to make it work, this is a good way to do it, a lot of people do it. It’s a
strange business decision to turn this solution into a product. A product that remains tied to its roots yet has relinquished the freedom of the initial improvisational gesture.