Mario Botta on Le Corbusier
Editor Dami Yoo | Photographer Miyeon Jeon
Mario Botta, who learned architectural thinking and how to read a city from Le Corbusier, sees the chair not as mere furniture but as a cultural symbol of its time. He also defines it as part of architecture, a ‘functional object that helps us make better use of the spaces we live in.’ In the 1980s, he worked with Alias Design on a series of chairs that reflected his architectural tectonics. Through them, he emphasized the essence of the object and revealed his architectural language.
This interview is featured in Issue 4 ‘Fauteuil Grand Confort’.
Early in your career as an architect, you worked with Le Corbusier and are known to have been deeply influenced by him. It was quite a long time ago, but could you look back on your experience at his studio?
It was 1965. I was a first-year student at Università Iuav di Venezia. Le Corbusier came to Venice for a new hospital project. He was there with his collaborators to present the project model and explain its meaning. At the time, I felt my time at school was pointless. I thought it would be better to follow Le Corbusier and gain hands-on experience, so I applied to his studio.
1965 was the year he passed away. What did you do at his studio then?
That’s right. The hospital project was one of Le Corbusier’s last. I mainly worked on sketches. In a way, it felt like a calling, as if I’d been entrusted with a special mission. The city of Venice itself played a vital role in the project, which made it the most intense and fascinating work I’ve ever been part of.
How did that experience shape your work as an architect?
After a long design process, the hospital project was never realized. But while working on it, I gained a great deal of wisdom from Le Corbusier. It was nearly 60 years ago, yet I still think there’s much to learn from that project. It had a profound influence on me, especially on a conceptual and philosophical level. Perhaps that’s why it’s the one I feel most attached to among all of Le Corbusier’s works. He dealt with the fundamental problems of life, such as social issues, urban strategy and mass construction, in a completely new and innovative way.
Could you explain that in more detail?
Le Corbusier had his own unique way of solving problems, and he showed how powerful that approach could be once it became reality. For example, he described the hospital as an extremely complex architectural machine and stressed this: “Architects, be careful. The problems of illness and patients can’t be solved by a purely functional or technical approach. The answer already lies in the city itself.” In other words, the city of Venice, with its intricate web of canals and alleys, was the key to solving the problem. He taught us how to read and understand a city in this way. That’s the greatest wisdom I gained from Le Corbusier.
What was Le Corbusier like as a person?
He was famously strict. He spoke very directly and didn’t give anyone room to maneuver. He was uncompromising and extremely stubborn. I never had a long conversation with him myself.
This issue focuses on the Fauteuil Grand Confort by Le Corbusier, Jeanneret and Perriand, exploring the relationship between chairs and architecture. Do you consider the Fauteuil Grand Confort an architectural chair?
Le Corbusier said, “A chair is a small piece of architecture.” That’s because it’s closely tied to the human body and greatly affects how we move in daily life. In that sense, the Fauteuil Grand Confort is also a finely crafted piece of architecture. It used materials and a design that were exceptional for the time, and it became something of a symbol. It was designed for rest and comfort, so it’s certainly not an ordinary chair. Its form wraps naturally around the body and distributes weight evenly. It’s comfortable enough that you can even sleep in it at times. What makes the Fauteuil Grand Confort special is this versatility. I believe the design redefined the idea of sitting. It created a chair that endures as part of the culture of its era.
Do you agree that “a chair is a small piece of architecture”?
Every chair places great importance on its relationship with space, whether a table, a kitchen or a living room. A chair is an object made so that people can sit and enjoy a space. Its essential function is to help people make good use of that space. So a chair can be seen as part of architecture. And like architecture, it’s also a product of its time.
Shall we move on to your own chairs? Starting in 1982, you launched a series of chairs with Alias Design. Their clean lines and geometric structures are a signature of your architecture as well, and they reflect your design philosophy.
Prima and Seconda began with a very simple idea. I set out to design an iconic chair that captured nothing but the essence of a chair. I imagined a design that supported the body with minimal structure, and I focused solely on the seat and the backrest. I considered everything else meaningless. The result was a geometric form made by bending thin steel tubing. The geometric elements of my chairs came from the sketching process. I always work by sketching in pencil. A point becomes a line, and that line becomes a supporting structure.
From Prima to Seconda, Quarta, Quinta and Latonda, your chair designs unfold like a series. Quarta in particular feels like architecture itself, with a truly monumental presence. It even brings to mind one of your landmark projects, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
In a way, yes. If Prima and Seconda focused on the essence of the chair, Quarta took the opposite approach. Unlike Prima, which pursued minimal structure through clean lines, Quarta was built up from repeated lines that form surfaces. It’s made from about 200 m of bent pipe, and it has a complex structure, considerable weight and a generous sense of volume. It was a kind of reaction against the ‘minimalism’ I had pursued with Prima and Seconda. If Prima and Seconda are chairs stripped down to the skeleton, Quarta is a chair that’s wearing clothes. Personally, Quarta is my favorite. Sometimes you’re drawn to the very opposite of what you’ve always insisted on. (Laughs)
In the 1980s, the Memphis Group dominated the design scene. That seems to run counter to the image you pursued.
That’s right. Memphis was always in a state of excitement. I was what you might call ‘anti-Memphis.’ (Laughs) Of course, I was friends with the Memphis members and close to Ettore Sottsass. But unlike them, I focused on the archetype of the object and on poetic simplicity. Memphis pursued colorful, exuberant design. I concentrated on the act of sitting itself and preferred the geometric form of a structure that supports the body, along with the simplest colors, black and white.
Your Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary of Namyang project in Korea is also a very meaningful work of architecture. The benches and chairs you designed specifically for the space were impressive too. In keeping with your emphasis on context, the space and the chairs seemed to share a single context. Could you explain specifically which elements connect them?
The Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary of Namyang project took more than 10 years, and it was deeply meaningful to me personally. Chairs in religious architecture are very different from the ordinary chairs we use at work or at home. They have to create a religious atmosphere, and at the same time convey both the long history of the chapel and its contemporary meaning. People sit in the chapel briefly to pray and then leave. Still, I believe the chairs there aren’t simply objects for sitting. They’re part of a space that holds memory and contemplation.
Want to dive deeper?
Issue.04 Fauteuil Grand Confort
The greatness of the Fauteuil Grand Confort, designed in 1928 by Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret, and Charlotte Perriand, does not lie simply in comfort. It became an icon of modernity through the then-novel concept of the chair as a 'machine for sitting' and the innovative use of tubular steel, the most advanced material of its time. Its form borrows the vertical and horizontal elements, modular concepts, and piloti structures familiar from Le Corbusier's architecture, recalling his assertion that a chair is architecture. In the Fauteuil Grand Confort, machine-pure form, the discipline and order born of a simple structural system, and the interplay between them come together in rich beauty—a truly great chair.
