Marc Newson’s material gains

Marc Newson, “Voronoi Shelf (white),” 2006

By Stephanie Murg

Maybe it’s the rivets. Maybe it’s the sensual swoop of the aluminum, a substance not known for its curvaceousness. Maybe it’s the appealing absurdity of lounging on what looks suspiciously like a massive blob of mercury. Whatever the reason, it’s difficult not to be captivated by Marc Newson’s “Lockheed Lounge” (1985), a sofa handcrafted of riveted sheet aluminum that sold at Sotheby’s in June for $968,000, setting an auction record for the work of a living designer.

A 1981 prototype of “Lockheed” is the centerpiece of Sebastian + Barquet’s new gallery space at 544 West 24th Street, a fitting example of the “incredibly unique pieces” that co-founder Ramis Barquet describes as Sebastian + Barquet’s specialty. You need only cross the street to see what Newson’s been up to lately. Now on view at Gagosian Gallery (555 West 24th Street) is the international designer’s first solo exhibition in the United States.

The new limited edition works began not with ideas — say, a DC3 crossed with a Louis XV chaise lounge — but with the materials, which this time around include marble, an early and now obscure sheet laminate called Micarta, and nickel — oh, the nickel!

“I started in the 1980s by making everything myself, because it was the only way I could work,” says Newson in an interview with Louise Neri in the exhibition catalogue. “It was the most immediate way of being able to realize things and show them to people. With “Lockheed Lounge,” I simply didn’t know how to work any other way, although I didn’t want it to look handmade.”

The marble works that the viewer encounters upon entering the gallery, with its soaring ceilings, give the impression of pieces that are waiting to be assembled, a set of Fisher-Price Construx abandoned by a giant. The lathed circular tables, each turned from a single block of white Carrara marble, are monumental yet somehow fragile, almost unsure of their purpose: Are they birdbaths gone awry? Sundials in the making?

Newson was attracted by the “mythical and sensual qualities” of marble. “I’m always thinking about how to create timeless objects,” he says. “Marble is synonymous with classicism. It’s a noble material that has, to a large degree, been passed over in modern times. Not many people are actively rethinking its applications.”

His extruded marble tables, smooth rectangles propped up by curves reminiscent of broken clothespins or binder clips, regain the tactility, that whiff of the biomorphic, that is natural to Newson’s work. Their unique shape, the product of stonemasons that have filleted the marble away from the block to reveal the desired form, invigorates the “noble material” and makes it surprisingly relevant to the viewer. The marble of the circular tables looks almost like soapstone while the rectangular pieces, crafted of the same material, have a look of durability and modernity.

Australian-born Newson, 43, trained as a jeweler, but his works echo the smooth, streamlined shapes of aviation, racing sailboats, and surfboards. In the rear of the gallery are Newson’s experiments with Micarta, a rich brown composite of linen and resin that deepens in tone when exposed to ultraviolet light. Newson’s Micarta table, chair, and desk look like they could have been salvaged from the office of a deposed Braniff Airlines executive, with the desk’s top and legs resembling repurposed plane wings. These pieces are sleek, optimistic, and forward-looking.

But it’s with the shiny stuff — this time, nickel — that Newson really excels. The “Random Pak” works are the highlights of the show, though difficult to describe. Picture an X-ray of a sponge, enlarge it a thousandfold, and then cast the whole thing in skeins of nickel (if nickel came in skeins). Now render the whole thing in three dimensions and carve out an area for sitting. The result is chairs and sofas that look similar to the xylem and phloem photomicrographs from your 8th-grade science textbook. Newson has spent the last several years experimenting with “random close packing,” the unique geometry of these soap-bubbly pieces.

Also on view are Newson’s series of diode lamps, colored light sculptures that evoke the lollipop airport seating of Robin Bush for the Toronto airport of the 1960s, light sockets, and actual lollipops. “I wanted to introduce an element into this exhibition that ‘does’ something,” says Newson. “[Diode Lights] glow: but they don’t actually provide light for practical purposes.” Inspired by the work of the Greek kinetic artist, Takis, who was in turn inspired by railway crossing lights, Newson designed his lights, crafted of glass, aluminum, and carbon fiber in three different heights, after capacitors, the tiny electronic components on circuit boards.

So, is all of this art or design? For Newson, the question is a matter of context. “My work involves a constant process of ‘relocating,’” he says. “For example, I presented my plane “Kelvin 40” (2004) at a cultural institution [Fondation Cartier pour L’Art Contemporain, Paris] instead of at an air show. That’s what gave the work its life. Similarly, presenting the current works in an art gallery releases them from standard interpretation.”