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book Review

serious play

Fresh off the Last Great War, it was time to have fun again. Or more fittingly, it was time to have fun for once. It’s clear from the beginning that Monica Obniski and Darrin Alfred had fun putting together this volume featuring an eclectic mix of essays that opens a colorful window into the world of design in post-war America. While the essays provide a more detailed look at the approach taken by designers such as Alexander Girard, Charles and Ray Eames, George Nelson, and Paul Rand, the curated assortment of photographs, mock-ups, and blueprints gratify our basic instinctual desire to see design in action. Design is a visual artform by definition and, although it lends itself to the written-word (hint: this publication), Obniski and Alfred’s selection of imagery makes this book a must-see, or read, for anyone interested in the aesthetic of the midcentury era or nostalgic of their own childhood. 

Aptly titled, Serious Play depicts the collision of a whimsical approach to design for practical necessities. Think chairs, storage containers, and clocks. Exhausted from helping save the world from the Axis Powers in the 1940’s, Americans looked to break the enduring stress and sink into distraction in the decades that followed World War II. The Cold War and ensuing Red Scare didn’t make that easy, but based on the designs of the time it was clear that was goal of many. What better way to accomplish such a goal than by reverting and resorting to practices and thought processes most associated with children? In other words, it was time to have fun and play while maintaining serious goals. The authors did remarkably well in illustrating this shift, as well as arguing for its viability, by juxtaposing the serious needs of newfound consumers to the child-like designs of creators and artists. It’s as though such artists realized they could have fun while working, too, a combination that escapes many of us.

It’s evident, however, that the design tool of playfulness did not equate with carelessness. In fact, each of their designs was “approached with an architect’s concern for structure and spatial relations,” according to Cara Greenberg in Mid-Century Modern. This approached also applied to the designs of George Nelson, another preeminent midcentury designer. As society shifted, so did the needs of most Americans. The husband-wife team of Charles and Ray Eames started out small, designing furniture for friends in need of something specific and unavailable in the existing market. From a single rocking chair for one friend to a set of indoor-outdoor furniture for another, the Eames’ were persuaded by Nelson into designing furniture on a larger scale for the Herman Miller company (Fiell, 2001). Their designs for Herman Miller, along with Nelson’s, were groundbreaking at the time and have endured to the present day.   

Obniski and Alfred spend ample time highlighting the Eames’ contributions to modern living. The Eames’ desire and accompanying ability to create attractive yet durable pieces proved to be a winning combination. During the Alex Goldman era at the University of Miami, the cheap plastic tables and chairs used for outdoor seating were replaced with durable metal wire-chairs while their study-area seating featured aluminum-ribbed swivel chairs reminiscent of those designed by the Eames’.

A common thread linking the Eames’, Nelson, and Alexander Girard was their ability to create objects that were functional, expressive, and personal all at once. Take the storage wall as a prime example, where all three design teams made essential contributions. Thanks to the authors, we can see the storage wall in new light as something that goes beyond fulfilling a simple usefulness. Obniski points out that “Girard considered the storage wall to be the fundamental furniture object of his era.” One could make the argument that is remains prescient to this day. For Nelson, “storage design was inextricably linked with basic issues of modern architectural interiors.”

Not only do we see designers creating as though they were playing with a toy, however. Obniski and Alfred highlight the important progression in design to a place where creators actual making a toy that doubles as a serious object with practical uses. Featured essayist Alexandra Lange puts it clearly, asking “why not kill two birds with one modernist stone?” These toys aren’t action figures, where you take them out for play time and put them away in an Eames Storage Unit when finished. These toys lived out in the open and contributed to the overall atheistic of that particular living space. The Tyng Toy, “a life-size construction toy” that “could be made into a chair, pushcart, bench, or desk” among other things. 

Included in the introduction for Serious Play is a claim from Dutch historian Johan Huizenga that “play may be viewed as the basis of culture.” Obniski and Alfred do well in taking that claim one step further, saying “play is a type of learning; taking it seriously is a part of culture.” Perhaps no other quote better illuminates the everlasting contributions made and groundwork laid resulting from midcentury design to the present day. After all, “play gave us Picasso,” and play gave us electricity.