When Memory Becomes an Interior



Nostalgia is frequently said to involve a longing for things that have been lost. However, memory is seldom a reliable account of the past; it is selective, fragmented and always being rewritten. We tend to recall a certain colour more clearly than the whole room, the texture of a piece of fabric more clearly than that of the furniture nearby, and the general atmosphere of a house even though we are unable to reconstruct its exact dimensions. What remains is not usually the place itself, but rather an impression of it.

This becomes especially interesting when nostalgia enters the interior. A room can make us feel as though we are back in another time without actually copying that time. For example, an old wooden surface, the curved shape of a chair, a textured fabric or the reflection in polished metal can create a feeling of familiarity even if the item is not connected to any particular memory. What matters about the object is not so much what it actually is as what it suggests.

Image courtesy of Andrea Ferrari & SAG’80.

It may be for this reason that the present-day revival of the past cannot be explained merely by a simple admiration for old things. There is instead something more substantial going on. After years of interiors characterised by neutral colours, continuous surfaces and a certain notion of minimal modernity, there is now an increasing interest in spaces that seem layered, personal and genuinely inhabited. Items are being allowed to retain their histories. The irregularities of materials are being appreciated. Rooms are becoming less interested in appearing new and are instead more focused on giving the impression that they have existed before us.

The change does not have to be seen as a rejection of modernity; it can instead be understood as a re-evaluation of what modernity might mean.

After all, the past has always played a part in the evolution of design. Art Deco arose in the early twentieth century out of a fascination with geometry, craftsmanship and luxury, but its aim was essentially modern. The 1925 Paris exhibition of decorative and industrial arts gathered together furniture, jewellery, lacquer, metalwork, textiles and other types of decorative art in a vision of modern life that was both highly sophisticated and materially ambitious. Alongside geometric forms, rare woods, shagreen, lacquer, gilding and elaborate inlays were used, producing an aesthetic in which ornament and modernity were not opposites but formed part of the same language.

Many decades later, the meaning of modern design underwent another change. During the post-war period, new materials and technologies enabled designers to break away from traditional conventions and experiment with abstraction, industrial production and sculptural form. In the 1960s and 1970s, furniture became more expressive: new possibilities emerged through the use of plastics, fibreglass, tubular steel and synthetic materials, while colour, experimentation and craftsmanship all existed together within an increasingly varied design world.

The two periods are now held in our shared visual memory in quite different ways. The 1930s remind us of geometry, polish, symmetry and refinement, while the 1970s convey a sense of warmth, experimentation, intense colour, softer shapes and a less formal approach to domestic life. Although neither of them is completely part of the present, both still influence it.

What contemporary interiors appear to have realised is that these references do not have to be reproduced in their original form; it is possible to remove them from their historical context and reassemble them.

A curve does not need its decade.

An object can survive beyond its original context.

A colour does not need its original meaning.

Nostalgia here is less concerned with history and instead focuses on interpretation.

The concept of Soft Nostalgia arises precisely in the space between memory and reinvention. The project for SAG’80, conceived by Giuliano Andrea dell’Uva, combines references to the 1930s and the 1970s within a contemporary interior; instead of reconstructing one of these periods, it uses the visual languages of those times as a source for a new spatial arrangement. The word “soft” is important. The nostalgia involved is neither dramatic nor literal; it is instead shaped by contemporary design, as historical references are softened through new proportions, different materials, modern furniture and a more relaxed attitude towards domestic space.

The project consists of a number of different areas, such as the Grand Foyer, the Cocktail Lounge, the Salon and the Private Suite. Although each of these has its own atmosphere, they are seen as forming part of a continuous narrative rather than as separate exhibits. The outcome is not so much an exhibition of furniture as an effort to create a certain way of using space.

It is important to make this distinction since interiors are understood in terms of the relationships between things rather than as a result of individual objects. A chair does not exist on its own, independently of the light that falls on it, the material next to it or the colour around it. The appearance of a polished surface varies from one time of day to another. A textile is capable of softening an architectural line. A darker type of wood can change the temperature of the whole room. In this case, material acts as a carrier of atmosphere. It is likewise a carrier of time.

Wood tends to develop a deeper surface, metal changes and reflects its surroundings, fabrics become softer as a result of use, and stone retains variations that industrial uniformity cannot completely remove. It is because of these characteristics that materials have a physical memory, even if the object in question is new.

This could be the reason for the current interest in craftsmanship and in objects that show obvious signs of having been made. In a culture that is becoming more and more digital, where images can be produced without limit and constantly edited and replaced, the physical characteristics of an object thus become a kind of resistance. A handmade surface cannot be entirely detached from the process by which it was made, and its imperfections are evidence of time, touch and labour.

A similar desire can be seen in the increasing popularity of vintage and second-hand interiors. This appeal does not always lie in historical accuracy; rather, it comes from the idea of adding something that already has a story to a space that is still being designed. Recent writing on contemporary homes has similarly connected the renewed interest in vintage items, inherited pieces and more layered interiors with a desire for personality and continuity.

Nostalgia loses its persuasiveness the more literal it becomes.

A room that is entirely based on one decade can easily become a reconstruction; it then begins to enact the past rather than engage with it. What makes the contemporary interpretation so interesting is the fact that there is friction between the various periods.

An example of Art Deco design can be paired with a silhouette from the 1970s.

An object from the past can become part of a contemporary composition.

A conventional material may be used in an unexpected way.

The space is neither historical nor futuristic; it lies in a more indistinct area in which different times exist without having to be brought together. Soft Nostalgia’s ambiguity may in fact be its true strength. It does not require the viewer to identify every reference. Instead, it asks them to respond to the atmosphere they create together. What is historical in the work becomes an experience rather than merely something to be described.

In this respect, nostalgia is not merely an emotion directed towards the past; it has become a design tool through which contemporary spaces can be given a sense of depth without ending up feeling old.

Perhaps this also explains the current desire for more atmospheric interiors, since so much of contemporary life seems to be becoming increasingly temporary. Nowadays, things are replaced rapidly, images vanish quickly and trends are constantly being rewritten. In contrast to this rapid pace, materials that imply permanence take on a new value.

Not because they belong to the past.

Because they suggest that something can remain.

Hence, the most convincing nostalgic interiors do not so much look to the past as look to the side; they take elements from various histories and arrange them in dialogue with one another. Although their references can be recognised, their meaning is contemporary. Memory becomes material. Material becomes atmosphere. Atmosphere becomes space. Space then becomes a means of carrying something forward.

Perhaps Soft Nostalgia ultimately suggests that the past does not have to be preserved exactly as it was in order to remain significant; it can be altered, transformed and placed within a new context.

The result is not a return.

It is a continuation.

We do not have to live in the past to keep something from it. Sometimes, we simply have to decide what is worth carrying forward.

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