A Close Look At Mariusz Warsinski's Nagababa Chair
Courtesy of Mariusz Warsinski and Wamhouse Studios.
“Body defects, disease, and ugliness do not make us furniture.”
– Mariusz Warsinski
Wamhouse Studio and designer Mariusz Warsinski introduced the Nagababa armchair in 2012. In 2020, the chair went “under the knife,” and the team presented the final version of the “plastic surgery chair.” The name “nagababa,” a direct translation for “naked woman” in Polish, forwards salient discourse on society's unrealistic beauty standards for women's bodies.
The enormous anthropomorphic chair visualizes the female form. Imbued with a lifelike quality by its smooth, organic leather, the chair features intricate details like sizable exposed stitching and embroidered arrows, which resemble diagrams used by plastic surgeons to indicate places on the body that they will modify. This design prompts viewers to question whether such transformations lead to self-objectification or progress.
Courtesy of Mariusz Warsinski and Wamhouse Studios.
Warsinski’s work references Gaetano Pesce’s famous chair, maestà soffrente, or Suffering Majesty. Both chairs evoke certain body traits conventionally deemed feminine, such as a slender figure with exaggerated buttocks and breasts. Initially designed in 1969, Pesce’s chair discussed the suffering of women experiencing gender inequalities. Pesce’s practice arrived with much criticism. The Italian architect and designer once stated that the chair is “an image of a prisoner” since “women suffer because of the prejudice of men.” Audiences scrutinized Pesce, believing his statement to be counterintuitive to the feminist cause because it painted women as victims. In contrast, Warsinski’s reinterpretation offers a less stark argument between the binary genders and instead focuses on the perceived need for aesthetic perfection in art and society.
In this current climate, sexualization remains the crux of the matter. Throughout history, women’s bodies have been seen through the male gaze, spurring activist groups such as the Guerrilla Girls to provocatively question the art world: “Do women have to be naked to get into the Met Museum?” Time and time again, we see the imagery of the female body weaponized or reduced to a source of visual pleasure. More troubling still, capital-driven industries attempt to seek profit from women’s insecurities – a warped cycle making body image into a coveted commodity. For instance, public figures like the Kardashian family, known for promoting this beauty standard and undergoing body enhancements, have seen their social status and beauty-related businesses benefit as a result.
Courtesy of Mariusz Warsinski and Wamhouse Studios.
The Nagababa teases with the trope of “standard” femininity, drawing attention to the breasts and backsides as areas that “need” rendering. If the intimate fundamental body parts of women aren’t to standard, are they somehow deemed lesser-than?
“Social norms suggest that you are fixing something that isn’t broken at all. The woman armchair is also a metaphorical bow to every disadvantaged person who believes that they are in this world by accident, by mistake. Nature makes no mistake in bringing ‘imperfections’ into existence. As we say, these intrusive thoughts about God's work and error are only an illusion that succumbs to our dormant minds,” Warsinki explains. “Body defects, disease, and ugliness do not make us furniture.” The sentiment acknowledges the social exclusion experienced by those who feel their body is flawed. However, it is important to note that the designer’s comments on anti-objectification almost highlight an inherent paradox about the functional capacity of this chair. While the designer’s intent is compelling, the form of the chair is still a woman's body.
Courtesy of Mariusz Warsinski and Wamhouse Studios.
Conceived as a hefty lounge chair, the Nagababa encourages people to feel comfortable in their bodies. Yet sometimes, a part of a woman's daily experience is feeling uncomfortable in her body, constantly chafing against the male gaze. Although the bulbous cushions make the chair appear comfortable, the exposed stitching and foreboding medical imagery make it seem psychologically uninviting. Even certain studio images on the website preview a woman wrapped in surgical bandages, sitting in front of a mirror on the chair, holding up a clay mask. The mask conceals the model’s natural face in the photos, creating an eerie presence in this editorial-esque ad. It’s as if saying, that even in a state of rest, a woman’s body is on the battlefield, fighting against artificial beauty standards and intense scrutiny.
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