Griffiths, A, Helmut Lueckenhausen and Friends, Design World, No 12, 1987, pp. 34-41.

Some designers' work is recognisably representative of a particular style or school while others is idiosyncratic. For the former that most precious of attributes, creativity, is often a slave to perceived market requirements. But originality can transcend fashion, bringing with it the distinguishing marks of the designer or the stamp of the maker. With Helmut Lueckenhausen the two coincide.

I have been observing Helmut Lueckenhausen's works since 1979, but my familiarity with them has not lessened the enigma, has not made categorisation easier, has increased my perplexity as much as my delight. Very seductive creatures these; stimulating the senses of touch and sight, stirring the mind to recall myths from old literature, creatures from Asimov and Wyndham, sculptured motifs from the Celts and the Carolingians, the Assyrians and Art Nouveau. Are they pieces of sculpture or furniture? Zoomorphic or biomorphic? Are they rocking with laughter under their curved surfaces, or swelling with pomposity? The answers to these questions are not obvious to me. Even seeing the works in the flesh (a particularly apt metaphor in this case) only serves to heighten my confusion.

Most of Lueckenhausen's sculptures have at least one furniture-based point of reference. Alternatively his furniture could be regarded as very sculptural with its sinuous forms and purely decorative additions. Anyway, there are doors and drawers, legs for support and tabletops perfectly horizontal and satin smooth. They are made of wood, sometimes with added coloured Craft wood or more recently vice versa. They range in size from 280mm to 1780mm in height; some squat, some stretch, some are almost airborne on their flapping cupids' wings, intriguing objects, they are impossible to objectify. But they are functional.

Helmut Lueckenhausen is tall and rather intense, the precision of his quiet voice just hinting of his birthplace, Cologne. He claims no inherited interest in design but his father, a plumber, must have provided a making and fixing environment which, combined with an interest since childhood in painting and technical drawing, may well have paved the path to Lueckenhausen's mature work. I wonder about a residual folk memory; did an ancestor or two, hammer and chisel in hands, work on that wonderful cathedral? After completing an Associate Diploma in Industrial Design at RMIT in 1970, Lueckenhausen produced a range of the sort of lacquered particleboard knockdown furniture popular in the early 70s. Mostly white with strong accents of pure colour, these beds, benches and cupboards teamed well with bold Marimekko style prints as confident design statements. The later and current organic forms could not be more different.

From 1977 to 1981, in exploring ideas for designing in wood using natural forms as a starting point, Lueckenhausen was fascinated by the swelling and bursting forms of seedpods and their natural link with timber. These shapes have dominated all his furniture designs since. In some cases the inspiration is very direct, as in sets of little boxes with vertically opening hinged lids and suede-lined interiors, all perched on the ends of branched infrastructures. In other pieces the pods are merely suggested with witty little raised openings chuckling from the edges of otherwise conventional table surfaces. The winged flanges, poised for flight or furled along leg bases, are not derived from cherubs or eagles, but stylised extensions of the opened jacaranda pod. Many observers remark on sexual references in Lueckenhausen’s work (a Melbourne daily once refused to publish a photograph because it might cause offence) but he denies any deliberate reference to human sexuality, pointing out what we have all observed; the similarity between reproductive organs and many living things “ I differentiate between sensual, which any work is attempting to appeal to the senses ought to be and which I am happy to say my work is, and sexual, which was never part of my thinking.

Inspiration

Lueckenhausen’s final rendered drawings of seedpods are evidence of the inspiration for his earlier work. They show a reverence and sensitivity foe the subject, becoming a delightful parody when translated into wood. The jacaranda pods have been a most favoured theme, the flaring sides eventually extending into wings

Technique

Lueckenhausen works from an idea, to pen sketches then full-size scale drawing. This is followed quite closely, but there is always the possibility of adaptation and adjustments as the piece grows. Sometimes he makes a cardboard pattern, but works like a carpenter-joiner rather than a pattern maker. He explains that he often prefers to render rather than draw. He machines as much as possible and subcontracts some parts in order to arrive at the finished object more efficiently. He is thus able to extend the scope of his skills and expertise, widen his frames of reference, avoid the limitations placed on him by his own tools and equipment, and free time for thinking and designing. A perfectionist, he respects the skills of others and their ability to assist him achieve his standards of finish and construction.

Materials

After working with coloured boards in the 1970s Lueckenhausen chose for a time to use timber exclusively because of its convenience and its affinity with the forms he was developing. A commission for ACI in 1985, for which the brief required a sculptured piece showing the versatility of Craft wood (a high density fibre board), led him back to colour in large solid areas as well as in small details and inlays, combined with the natural tones of the wood. The ACI cabinet incorporates the organic details, which impart humour and irony to the smaller pieces, but because of its scale (1780mm tall) and some repetitive layers of colour, it has an iconic quality and incorporates post-modern references, sculpture, furniture and symbols (candles? trees?).

Lueckenhausen accepts advice on his selection of timbers, claiming no deep acquired or instinctive feel for them. He favours those, which are soft enough to work, but stable and strong. The grain needs to be lightly figured, subtle and uniform in colour to avoid competition with the complexity of the sculptured forms. Mahogany, silver ash, white beech, cedar and Huon pine are frequently preferred. He likens wood to hard butter, having no particular mystique but being the right material for his current work. When showing and selling his work however, he recognizes the need to respect the attitudes of his clientele; wood may have different meanings, imbued with almost sacred qualities closely linked with and enhanced by methods of handling, finishing and joining. He is concerned that using the same materials could place him in a comfortable rut, leading to repetition and stagnation. Stone and cast metal are currently under investigation as possible extensions to his repertoire of media.

Colour

The tones of natural materials are always limiting, and a return to coloured materials was logical. Lueckenhausen makes reasoned choices of colours, again accepting advice from experts. His colours are not self-conscious in the Memphis manner, nor as basic as Bauhaus, but objective, accepting the wood tones. He occasionally chooses sets of colours previously proven, such as the Aztec terracotta and lapis lazuli, which he used in a sideboard. His objective, cautious and logical approach to colour is that of the teacher, the colour analyst, not the emotive instinctive response of the expressionist.

Teaching

Lueckenhausen's theories on designing from natural forms found application in his three-dimensional Design and Sculpture course which he has been teaching since 1974, first to Tertiary Orientation Program (TOP) students at Box Hill College of TAFE, then and currently in a modified, high-tech, display oriented form to Graphic Design students at Swinburne Institute of Technology. The structure of this course was submitted by Lueckenhausen for his Graduate Diploma of Industrial Design at RMIT in 1979. A very enthusiastic teacher, Helmut Lueckenhausen considers himself to be a good motivator, and as a result his students do well. He enjoys being a member of a high-status course. Convinced that concept and method are inseparable, he bases his course on reasoned rather than purely conceptual approaches to problem solving. He likes clear thought and teaches accurate design language with which to express it. He regrets the rigidly perceived hierarchy of standards among art and design colleges, believing that the pursuit of excellence does not need competition.

Design philosophy

An ideas-based person looking for the right material, Lueckenhausen has never called himself a craftsman because, in the Australian context at least, the craftsman is usually seen to be working with one medium and conceptualises according to the limits and possibilities of his materials. Lueckenhausen's interest is in the product rather than the process; his ideas have survived post-objectivism without any intermediate compromise. All his pieces are one-offs, but he is not averse to making limited editions or to selling his ideas to manufacturers in accordance with his industrial design training. This idea would be anathema to most craftsmen.

Promotion

In common with craftsmen however, Lueckenhausen sells through the gallery network. The Craft Centre in South Yarra, Melbourne, acts as his agent and he exhibits there annually. He has also shown at the Beaver Gallery in Canberra and Blackfriar's in Sydney. His work sells well in Melbourne, 'moderately in Sydney and so far terribly in Canberra', but is represented in the Australian National Gallery and four State collections. He would like to sell through a more commercial network, to architects, designers and manufacturers, but faces the usual artist's dilemma; how to develop your ideas, produce them and act as your own entrepreneur. This becomes more difficult to resolve if you are also a committed teacher.

So what keeps Helmut Lueckenhausen designing, making and teaching? Not art for art's sake and possible obscurity. Not his pieces in public collections; that is not a genuine assessment of quality, he believes. He likes the buzz of success, and gains enormous pleasure in producing works he can be proud of. And I would imagine the humour and entertainment provided by the evolving and emerging forms, the tactility of the liquid-smooth surfaces and the sensuousness of the lines are very pleasurable companions on the path to success.