Free Plastic by Susan Freinkel

new ultrastrong polymer Ultradur.Grcic reached back to the Panton for inspiration and, working with BASF engineers, created the first plastic cantilever chair since the debut of that design icon. Grcic's take on that form is a hip, supple, springy zigzag of plastic with a perforated seat and back that Grcic hoped would evoke an animal's skin. It's so lithe it makes the Panton look stodgy. Thanks to BASF's new polymer and advances in processing technology, the chair has "an elegance that wasn't possible before," the MOMA's Antonelli said.
    Photos of the MYTO have been posted on design blogs worldwide. The
New York Times
hailed it as one of the best ideas of 2007, the Museum of Modern Art added it to its permanent collection, and it was prominently displayed in a show about Grcic put on by the Art Institute of Chicago.
Times
design critic Alice Rawsthorn praised the MYTO for its "coolly angular shape" and for using "the minimum material possible." In this instance, that single shot of plastic is now a sign of eco-responsibility.In other words, the MYTO may be a monobloc, but it's one imbued with an ethic and intentionality that elevate it far above the $6.49 plastic patio chair. Grcic is just one of many contemporary designers enraptured by the possibilities of plastic. Kartell continues to be a major outlet for those designers' work. On a sunny spring afternoon, I went to visit the Kartell store in San Francisco, one of a hundred retail outlets the company has established in cities around the world.
    The showroom felt like a cross between an art gallery and Ikea: plain white walls, recessed lighting, and every piece in the catalog out for display. The wares were grouped by color. There was a cluster of shiny reds: a sleek chair, a stool, a table with a lacy perforated top. Next to it was an orange array, followed by a gaggle of yellows. Across the room, a grouping of green chairs, tables, lamps, and vase-shaped pedestals shared a lighted platform. On the adjacent platform, much the same in cool shades of blue. Sunlight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making all those plastic surfaces extra glittery. It was like being inside a diamond—or, rather, a cubic zirconia. As someone accustomed to an earth-toned domestic world of pillowy upholstery and wood, I found the gleam and frank primary colors a little unsettling. Yet, I reminded myself, it wasn't as if my softer, more cushiony world was any less full of plastic. Like most modern furniture, my upholstered couches and chairs have polyurethane cushions, the covers are part polyester and sprayed with Teflon-like stain protectors, and many of my "wood" tables and bookshelves actually consist of fake wood veneers and epoxies over a partially plastic pressed-wood core.
    Many of the pieces in the showroom were created by the legendary Philippe Starck, one of several prominent designers that the company began recruiting in the 1980s in an effort to upgrade its image. Starck's feelings about plastic echoed that earlier generation of designers: he loved the material for its democratic possibilities and because, unlike natural materials, it was the product of "human intelligence, so it fits with our human civilization." He also considered plastic environmentally preferable to using wood resources.
    One of Starck's best-known designs is a beautiful chair called the Louis Ghost. Made of clear, hard polycarbonate plastic, the chair has an oval back, gracefully downturned arms, and curving legs—all taken from some classic and yet unspecified period in French history. Starck explained that he deliberately muddied the heritage: "I chose this icon to be the ghost of Louis 'I don't know what.'"Playful yet elegant, solid yet ethereal, the Louis Ghost has appeared in ads and in fashion magazines all over the world. Stylists have set it in starkly modernist rooms as well as in rooms filled with antiques. In either setting, it works.
    Since its introduction in 2002, the chair has