Maybe most of you have seen the Smoke Glass. If not, here you go. And even if you don't smoke, you have to admit it's quite cool. Joe Colombo created it, inspired by his own habit of smoking and drinking, which not only solved his "how many hands do I need for this?" problem but also became a perfect example of his design thinking and problem-solving skills. Even though this piece is quite interesting, Colombo took this approach to a much higher level throughout his career.
His fascination with functional and experimental design gained him a distinctive spot in the design world, with projects exploring the coexistence of maximum function and a fun look.
Joe Colombo didn't design objects, he designed behaviour.
Even though he had many works throughout his career, his obsession with encapsulating many experiences into one single structure made him recognisable in the product and industrial design field. By studying the everyday life of people, he aimed to translate a whole living space into a single unit, posing the question: how much do people actually need to satisfy their needs for living? During the 60s, Italy experienced a period of serious questioning about what a living unit should actually be like.
In a time of urbanisation and technological optimism, the traditional vision of a home started feeling inadequate for the expectations of the people. It wasn't a question of beauty or luxury, but of finding a new relationship between the city, the home and the changing way people lived. At a time of change and social unrest in Italian society, driven in part by student protests and political tensions, designers had an opportunity to shift the question from "what should a chair look like?" to "how should we live?".
Joe Colombo took the chance to respond to this changing way of life by creating a series of projects that might seem absurd to a person nowadays, being perceived as unconventional and futuristic. The popularity of plastic and innovative electronics at the time pushed the boundaries of traditional living styles, opening up opportunities for experimental concepts such as the Total Furnishing Unit (1971–72). Through such projects, Colombo explored how the essential functions of a home could exist within a very small and adaptable system.
Why can't one room represent multiple functions?
The Total Furnishing Unit consisted of several independent elements — including a kitchen, bathroom, wardrobe and living/sleeping areas — that could be arranged and adapted to different spaces. It wasn't simply about making a smaller apartment. It was about questioning why the functions of a home had to remain permanently attached to specific rooms. Because if technology allows objects to become lighter, movable, modular and multifunctional, why should architecture remain fixed?
Sketches of other modular systems, Joe Colombo, 1969
Colombo's work explored exactly this relationship between furniture and architecture. Instead of treating furniture as something placed inside a room, he imagined furniture becoming increasingly independent from its architectural enclosure — capable of being moved, combined and reconfigured according to the changing needs of its inhabitants. He continued his experimentation with individual pieces, narrowing down the idea of flexibility and utilisation even further with projects such as the Mini-Kitchen.
A single mobile cabinet containing an entire kitchen, with cooking, storage, refrigeration and other functions compressed into one compact structure. From a nowadays point of view, it can be seen as absurd and unconventional, but it is, unarguably, a representation of maximum space and function utilisation — exactly the kind of problem Colombo was interested in solving. But there is something slightly ironic about Colombo's vision.
By trying to give every object more functions, he was also trying to remove the boundaries between the spaces of our lives. A kitchen was no longer necessarily a room, a bed was no longer necessarily just a bed, and furniture was no longer something simply placed inside architecture. Everything could transform. And maybe this is where Colombo's work becomes more than just futuristic design. He wasn't simply trying to make smaller homes.
He was questioning whether we needed rooms at all. Even though the modern person might describe Colombo as strange and weird in his approach, he undoubtedly responded to a calling for change, which, before everything else, is every designer's job.