INTERVIEW: Cameron Platter

The plastic monobloc chair is universal and omnipresent. It is perhaps one of the most mass-produced objects on earth. Light, durable, stackable and convenient, in some instances replacing wooden chairs entirely — yet many sitting on a monobloc wouldn't give it a second thought, let alone revere it. South African artist Cameron Platter is one exception.

In his ongoing series, Platter elevates this symbol of global manufacturing, subverting and rebuilding found monobloc chairs one by one — in wood — a material that completely contradicts the original.

Four Chairs brings a selection of these works to Pan After's showroom collection. We spoke with Platter to discuss the exchange at the heart of his ongoing project, what a chair can say about the way we live and how he believes art is to be lived with.

Can you describe where you are now, with whom, and what is happening around you?

I’m in Cape Town, South Africa, in the middle of setting up a show at the A4 Arts Foundation which includes some of my chair sculptures, tapestry work and new sculptural mobiles, as well as a publication/zine.

I live in Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, which is very different from Cape Town. It’s medieval and modern and a crumbling and relentlessly expanding sub-topical port city.

What first drew you to the plastic monobloc chair as subject matter?

It’s always hard to articulate exactly what draws me to particular subject matter. If I had a good, snappy answer to that question, then I don’t think I’d be making them. So, short answer: I don’t know. Longer answer: because they’re everywhere (there’re, like, over a billion in the world; they’re open-source, pirated, democratic, and ubiquitous.) And, like a cup, or a shoe, everyone (everyone!) uses one. I’m into primitive technology. In a nutshell, my work is an attempt to understand and process what it means to be alive on planet earth right now.

Sidenote. *A cluster of monobloc chairs is also usually an excellent signifier of a good restaurant.

Can you walk us through the exchange process in your own words?

My chair exchange exercise is one way I’m able to access and develop new sculptural shapes to add to my ongoing chair sculpture project. If I see an interesting chair, I’ll ask the owner if they’d be prepared to swop their chair for a new one. Most people are initially wary and not particularly interested. A little suspicious — who wants a weird old plastic chair? I’ll talk to them more, talk about what I’m doing, and then usually they’re OK with their chair being co-opted, and exchanged for a new one.

But, if I spot a good one for sale in a shop, or wherever, I’ll buy it. Friends know that I like a good chair, so occasionally I’ll get a tip off, or someone will bring me one. I’m always on the look out for new subjects, and I’m an equal opportunity offender.

But, I’m not just making ‘replica’ monobloc chairs. (I think to call them and to call them replicas is to oversimplify what I’m up to, and what they are as sculptures and pieces of art.) But I also make chairs with neon lights, loungers, and chairs out of monster cans, cinderblocks, bricks. In fact my favourite chair at the moment is the ultra-simple 3 brick chair. Two upright bricks with one lying across it Stonehenge-style. The ultimate primitive tech. Do you have a favourite chair story, or is there one that "got away”?

There’s always a better chair (artwork, story, cure, boyfriend, insert your word here) out there, around the corner.

Has anyone ever refused to pass their chair to you?

Initially, people were hesitant. But after talking to them, engaging with people, finding out about them, explaining what I’m up to, I’m usually able to leave a chair and leave with a chair.Why wood? Did you consider any other materials for this series?

I wanted to speak to a crossroads of craft and sculpture, and the weird complicated relationship between the two. 

How long does a single chair take, start to finish, and does the timeline bear any significance to the outcome. 

6 months to a year to make a series. Once I have the shape, we’re on the lookout for wood. We’re in the sub-tropics, so trees grow quickly, and trees fall down. So, we’re looking for trees that have been cut, or need to be cut. These get roughly shaped, the more knots and irregularities, the better. Then they have to be kiln-dried. Once out of the kiln, they’re assembled, carved finally, then they’re painted. That’s the process. It's not a quick fix. From finding a chair to finding the wood to making it can take years. Nothing about translating a plastic chair into wood makes sense. I’m into masochistic things.

The colours are so vivid. How do you go about selecting a colour for each sculpture?

Tangerine, pink, magenta, dark blue, etc. The pop of an advertisement on a back of minibus taxi, an encounter with a piece of plastic that’s ended up on the beach through an overflowing river, a glint of custom paint job on a suped up Subaru, mass builder muscle supplement typography, a blinking neon fast food sign at night…

Colour is emotive, and my choices can be quite spontaneous.

You've said your works are designed to be lived with?

Absolutely. Art should be experienced, used, and lived with in a home, not just looked at in galleries or museums. I love art that isn’t precious or pretentious. (But it’s got to be very good!)

View our Cameron Platter Four Chairs collection in store and online. 

Platter's work is held in the permanent collections of MoMA New York, The Centre Georges Pompidou Paris, The Frac des Pays de la Loire France, Zeitz MOCAA and the Iziko South African National Gallery South Africa and has been exhibited internationally, including at the Venice, Dakar and Bangkok Biennales.