Dizaina Studija. Telpa Forma Laiks

According to the media, it is not easy for a layman to orient themselves in Latvia’s real economic situation: a popular businessman – the owner of gaming halls – recently publicly announced about the abolishment of his business, blaming the unfavourable business environment created by the nation; in turn, another no-less famous beauty care giant “ate” a number of internationally recognised brands. So how is the Latvian manufacturer going? It looks like the last roots of historical succession are being severed – after the closing down of the Grīziņkalns and Līvāni glass businesses, for example, the basis and even the theoretical opportunities for a qualitative local product in the once successful field of glassware has been lost. Academically educated glass artists can continue to create articles, the meaning of which is understood to themselves only, presenting these items as art which testifies to personal freedom.  

However a crucial role is not only played by national politics, but also by the personalities; Juris Griķis with his “Nakts mēbeles” (Night furniture) represents the positive balance of Latvian business. Griķis’ biography is almost like a graphic line drawn along the edge of the furniture industry, sketching in the history of Latvian manufacturing with all of its rules: turns, growth and declines. The furniture engineer, educated as a woodwork technologist at the Latvian Academy of Agriculture began his career as a cabinetmaker during the Soviet era in the once-famous furniture company “Rīga” as a furniture designer. During the time of political awakening which was fateful for Latvia, a cooperative was established – the furniture factory “Ozols” – which successfully grew to the size of a 300 person factory with two workshops (for soft and hard furniture). The product design corresponded to the demands of the early 1990s: the most popular of the furniture sets manufactured by the company at that time, “Bastejs”, was a “director’s” cabinet set, decorated with intarsias, which was exported to Russia in large numbers. The year 1994 was fateful for Latvian manufacturing – a national political decision cut off the opportunity for exporting to the huge eastern market. In 1995 the company bankrupted, unable to exist in the German market with cheap “style-less” pine wooden furniture. It is possible that the events that followed could be classified both as an obsession and a conviction – the new furniture company was begun practically from scratch with a 20 person team, producing democratic pine wooden items.  

Now “Nakts mēbeles” is a 200-staff strong company with ten years experience (a few years later it was joined by a second production unit, “Pils matrači” (Palace mattresses)) which has entered the Baltic market (seven company salons in Latvia and Lithuania), with further hopes to export to the United Kingdom, Scandinavia and the Far East and with new technologies, which were gained by attracting European funding. Currently Latvia’s economy is ruled by a state of emergency, although the volume of trade for “Nakts mēbeles” has not slowed down – mainly thanks to the new successful salon in the shopping centre “Spice”. Juris Griķis calls the decision to stop producing pine wood furniture as a decisive step in the development of the business, because this meant a conscious transition to a different – more highly priced – group, although: “My production is not design class production. We make clean, qualitative furniture which is aimed at the market.”

Of course, the question which interests “Dizaina Studija” relates to the relationship between the manufacturer and designer. And the way in which this theme is outlined at “Nakts mēbeles” is both typical and classical for Latvia. Up until now, if one doesn’t count occasional collaboration with Raimonds Cīrulis, the company has “made do” without designers. The system, where the director influences the visual image of the products based on selected foreign samples according to his own taste and experience operated in Latvia both during the Tsarist and Soviet eras; furthermore in the last years this even functioned as a broad, nationally organised, idea stealing mechanism. Juris Griķis comments on the current situation in furniture manufacturing directly: “In the Latvian industry, furniture is designed by the technologist!” And nevertheless the experience of “Nakts mēbeles” is non-typical: the owner, director and father of the idea alongside his education as a professional technologist has purposefully and seriously gained the artistic skills and knowledge in the fields of composition, colour theory and tectonics through self-education. One can believe this assertion: the older examples of furniture manufactured by the company demonstrate some clumsiness in terms of proportions or details, while the newer collections from a design perspective do not possess these kinds of mistakes. The market interests of the business are expanding, and it must become more competitive, and thus a historical necessity for collaboration with professional designers is ripe. This collaboration has already begun – together with Māra Skujeniece, educated in Holland, and the Dutch Roel Elsinga, a prototype for a bold, experimental, irregularly shaped bed has been created. It is intended for this collaboration to be developed. However when considering “fresh blood” – Latvia’s young designers – Griķis is sceptical about the thought of them overrunning his company. The divide between Latvian manufacturers and designers is not becoming smaller, and I am uncertain whether the active stereotype has only unhealthily bubbled up as an unfounded notion or as a tried and tested conclusion. Amongst business people in almost any sphere the Latvian designer is regarded as an ambitious “artist”, who is not familiar with teamwork and the market situation. The most able in the field of design are considered to be architects, instead of professionally educated Latvian designers, and the businessman thinks it is safer to look for designers with international experience. Juris Griķis comments on this year’s student exhibition in his characteristically explosive manner, and I get confused: “Artists wish to express themselves in Milan with meaningless ‘doodles’!” Griķis’ opinion, it seems, has not been tested in his practise, but amongst this somewhere there is a concrete foundation. The young artists will have to jump twice higher than their own heads, not only to convince the potential employers of their professionalism, but mainly to change the attitude towards the possibilities of Latvian design in their broadest sense.  

The end of our conversation nevertheless has a gold lining. The lighting company “Zero”, owned by Andris Nolendorfs, of Latvian extraction, has occupied a space at the top of Swedish design. Recently the Swedish market has become too small and in a move to expand, Nolendorfs has begun to search for new stars at the work exhibitions of the famous design university Konstfak. The strategic plans of “Nakts mēbeles” are wide and far-reaching. Alongside Māra Skujeniece and other international, currently unadvertised specialists, Juris Griķis has also earmarked some capable students – and said: “I will work with designers!” I draw in a breath. Hold it. Are we standing at a fateful bend in the road?