In 2001, the House of Finn Juhl, helmed by Ivan Hansen and Hans Henrik Sørensen, was given the exclusive rights to manufacture and relaunch the Danish designer’s iconic pieces of furniture. The duo had long admired Juhl’s work, so when it came to taking on the task of honouring his legacy, they were excited, but understandably apprehensive. “We had to try our best to put ourselves in his shoes and imagine what he would have wanted, to achieve the intended expression—because no precise answer exists,” says Sørensen. Since then, the House of Finn Juhl has recreated over 50 of Juhl’s pieces. It has been a journey, to be sure, and one on which Hansen and Sørensen have almost felt the designer’s presence. If designers, like artists, live on through their works, this might well be true. 

‍

A cursory internet search on Juhl brings up a series of black and white photographs of him sitting in chairs of his own design. In most of them, Juhl is smiling, relaxed and snug against the chairs, as if they were made for him. And in a sense, they were, because though he had some training as an architect, when it came to furniture, he was entirely self-taught. In fact, having no idea of the standards of furniture design, Juhl began the process by measuring his own body and examining how the separate components of furniture would, and could respond to it. 

‍

‍

It was a human-centred design at a time when even the idea, let alone the term, barely existed—but Juhl had always been a man ahead of his time. In lieu of the art history education he had been denied as a youngster, he developed a discerning eye for colour, shape, form, material and craftsmanship. In his furniture designs, created in collaboration with cabinetmaker Niels Vodder, Juhl brought these elements together in ways that were considered almost controversial at the time, moving away as they did from the plush, ornamental style that was traditional. Instead, soft, organic, hand-upholstered curves sat on slim wooden frames with impeccable joinery. It was a combination that was somehow, both futuristic and timeless.

‍

‍

Juhl was inspired by sculptor Jean Arp, and tended to think like a sculptor first, and a designer, second. “Art has always been my main source of inspiration. I am fascinated by shapes that defy gravity and create visual lightness,” he once said. This visual lightness became a defining aspect of his designs and in 1948, a decade after his debut as a furniture designer, his work caught the eye of Edgar Kaufmann Jr, who headed the Department for Industrial Design at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Commissions and awards followed, and while Juhl never really became a household name in his native Denmark, he acquired a cult following that stretched all the way from America to Japan, with admirers in the latter even creating a ‘Finn Juhl Art Museum Club’ that is housed in a 1:1 replica of the designer’s home in Ordrup.

‍

The connection with Japan would prove to be lasting. In 2001, when the House of Finn Juhl got down to producing the designer’s pieces, they discovered that few people knew how to create the exacting curves and wooden joinery that Juhl’s pieces required. An intensive search led them to Japan, where they discovered a shared passion for impeccable craftsmanship. “The Japanese are proud and conscious when it comes to advanced craftsmanship, which is crucial for the organic shapes of Finn Juhl's furniture,” Hansen points out. 

‍

‍

Now, 24 years since the House of Finn Juhl was founded, Juhl’s impeccable designs have made their way to India. To be in the presence of these pieces—whether in the form of his tribal inspired Chieftain chair, the Eye table, the Poet sofa or the Pelican chair—is to experience the heightened awareness of colour, form, material and craftsmanship that ran through his pieces. India’s own design heritage ties in well with these principles, and it is an exercise in delight to imagine the possibilities of their juxtaposition. Mid-century-Scandinavian meets India Modern? Juhl would very likely approve.

‍