［ 10 ］
It’s about 35 cm high. When the nine metal rods sway and strike one another, they produce a beautiful sound (Photo: Noritsugu Oda)
This is a scaled-down version of a sculpture by the Italian-born sculptor Harry Bertoia. A full-size version stands at the Cranbrook Academy of Art in the United States, Bertoia's alma mater. These miniature sculptures are presented as commemorative gifts to people who have given lectures at the academy. This one belonged to Akio Izutsu, then president of Nor International Japan. When Mr. Izutsu decided to sell his house, he told me he would like to donate the furniture and sculptures he had there. I visited him and, after he had generously given me all sorts of things, I pointed to this piece and said, "How about this one...?" He immediately replied, "Of course, please take it." To be honest, it had caught my eye ever since my first visit to his home.
At my house in Sapporo, it stands diagonally in front of the Finn Juhl chair where I usually sit, right beside the "Bottom" that I introduced earlier in this series. Bertoia is well known as the designer of the Diamond Chair, but he once worked in the office of Charles and Ray Eames. At that time, he could not yet make a living solely as a sculptor. During the 1950s, designers around the world were trying to create chair shells with smooth compound curves. Bertoia, who had an exceptional command of metal, developed the Eameses' plastic chair further by welding steel wire into a beautifully flowing form. The result was the Diamond Chair. Later, however, the Eameses applied the same idea to produce their own wire chair and presented it as their own work, which led to a falling-out between them. Bertoia eventually left the Eames office. By the way, you can imagine what happens if you sit on a wire chair for half an hour—the grid leaves its pattern on your skin. To solve that problem, the Eameses covered the back and seat with upholstered pads. Because of the way they looked, the design came to be known as the "Bikini".
Mr. Oda explains the Eames “Bikini” chair with an illustration.
There is another story about Bertoia. Mr. Izutsu's company had its showroom on the ground floor of the Kokusai Building in Marunouchi, Tokyo, where several of Bertoia's metal sculptures were displayed. Some resembled flourishing trees, while others looked like coral. Later, for various reasons, the showroom was closed. When everything had been cleared out, those sculptures had disappeared. According to the staff at the time, "No one realized they were so important." They were probably thrown away. Naturally, the company responsible for disposing of them would not have recognized their value either, and they simply ended up as scrap metal. Without knowledge or an appreciation of their value, things like this can happen. That reminds me of another story about the architect Finn Juhl. When he was responsible for the interior design of SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) aircraft and its offices, he proposed placing works by the Swiss-born Italian sculptor Alberto Giacometti—whom he greatly admired at the time—in more than 30 SAS ticket offices around the world. However, the company's executives turned down the idea because of the cost. Today, a single work by Giacometti is worth hundreds of millions of yen. Had they accepted his proposal, those offices would now hold an extraordinary asset.
(Interviewed on 19 June 2026)
After the Interview
During Asahikawa Design Week, I caught up with Mr. Oda while he was staying in Higashikawa for a talk. His conversation partner was Kotaro Sugiyama, the creative director behind well-known Japanese advertising campaigns such as Pikkapika no Ichinensei and Seven-Eleven Ii Kibun. Mr. Oda also enjoyed a successful career in advertising during his years at Takashimaya, and, as it turned out, Mr. Sugiyama is also an enthusiastic chair lover. Once they started talking, it became clear that they had a great deal in common. Mr. Sugiyama has long been someone I have admired since the beginning of my own career as a copywriter. It was a privilege to listen to such a wonderful conversation from the front row, and I am truly grateful for the experience.
— Copywriter, Kano Nishikawa
Mr. Sugiyama, who said with a laugh, "I could easily find myself becoming deeply involved in the Higashikawa Design Museum project. If I had another fifty years to live, I'd move here," with Mr. Oda.
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The Oda Collection: 12 Charming Masterpieces
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Life at Oda’s Residence
