4 April/5 April 2020 ★ FTWeekend 9
caughthisattention.“Shehadaneyefor
design,colour,pattern.”
At secondary school, Ilori was intro-
duced to western art: Bacon, Van Gogh
and Picasso. “But I never actually saw
them. We looked at them in books. I
remember as a kid not feeling like I
could go to a museum or gallery.”
He was drawn to a career in fine art,
but without contacts or private
wealth, he doubted he could earn
enough to survive. So he alighted on
product design and furniture, gradu-
ating from London Metropolitan Uni-
versity in 2009. It was his university
tutor, Jane Atfield, who encouraged
his reimaginings of chairs.
After interning with luxury lighting
company Lee Broom, Ilori wrote a busi-
ness plan with support from young peo-
ple’s charity The Prince’s Trust. With a
loanof£3,000,hesettoworkinhisback
garden, designing and building his first
collection of chairs with the tools his
father had bought for him from B&Q,
wherehewasastoremanager.(Ilorihad
(From left)
Ilori’s chairs,
which carry a
narrative about
real people and
an ‘imprint of
the human soul’,
he says; Ilori’s
‘Colour Palace’
at the Dulwich
Picture Gallery
in London last
year; ‘Helping
Hand’— Vivek Vadoliya;
©Adam Scott; Veerle EvensNational Museum of African American
History in Washington, DC and the
national cathedral of Ghana, with
advising and encouraging him when
his self-belief falters. “He speaks to
people, and he cares
about the experience.
What do you want to
get out of a space, when
you leave a space, how
areyousupposedtofeel?I
admirethat.”
Ilori’s ability to trans-
pose west African style on
to everyday western objects
and situations has commer-
cial appeal. He recalls how,
after one London installa-
tion, “Get Up Stand Up
Now” at Somerset House,
a wealthy banker bought
eight chairs for his Chel-
sea townhouse. (“Of course I said yes.”)
But he is wary of churning out more,
reluctanttoseethem“commodified”.
Before coronavirus hit, Ilori had
been working on window displays and
store design for two retailers, includ-
ing an Italian luxury brand. He no
longer knows if those or other projects
will go ahead. But he does know that,
if they do, they will be a provocation —
and that they will not please everyone.
But that is his style: “I want to take
things that shouldn’t be there, and say:
‘Hereitis.’”Helen Barrett is editor of House & Homeno student debt, having lived at home
and worked part-time in retail through-
out his undergraduate career.) Exhibi-
tions followed, before he opened his
Harrowstudioin2017.
His early chairs line the walls of the
studio today, some from “If Chairs
Could Talk”, his 2015 collection (he is in
negotiations with a French museum
about an acquisition). Once-modest
pieces of found furniture, often broken
and rescued from kerbside dumping or
charity shops, he has transformed them
into a dazzling procession — each differ-
ent,eachimmaculate.
Their original forms are still recognis-
able — one is a classic captain’s chair,
which can be found in any British pub;
another is a standard mid-century
kitchen teak number. Made over with
gloss paint and Dutch-wax fabric, they
havebeencuriouslycolonised.
But Ilori’s chairs are more than just an
obvious metaphor; each piece carries
what he calls “a narrative” about real
people. One example, his favourite,embodiesaschoolfriend,an“incredible
humanbeing”.
“A Trapped Star/Irawo Ta De Mole”
(2015), in the Museum of Brighton’s
permanent collection, is two chairs
fused into one: a captain’s chair and a
small highchair, cut down then fastened
together. “It’s based on two brothers,
school friends of mine,” says Ilori. “Onewas intelligent, good at music, good aca-
demically. His younger brother was
always bunking, and not a good kid.
“He was intelligent, but he didn’t
know his potential. I could see it, eve-
ryone could see it. But he
was trapped in his
brother’s shadow.” It is,
he agrees, a chair that
carries the imprint of a
human soul.
Other pieces reflect Nige-
rian sayings and parables.
One appears to have been fit-
ted with a pair of ears, to
embody an idiom favoured by
his parents: “Any child who
has two ears should listen.” It
is both charming and funny.
“Yes. I feel design is very
serious — and it doesn’t
needtobe.”
With their saturated lacquered paint,
Ilori’s pieces are strikingly immaculate.
Again, a cultural cue. “That gloss is an
extensionofmyheritage.Nigerianslove
to show off their wealth, and their
clothes. Growing up, we could not leave
the house looking a mess. That would
look bad on the Ilori family, and my par-
ents wanted to protect their name, it’s
their legacy. So I like being immaculate,
crisp and clean. And I wanted to bring
thatoutinthework.”
Design, he says, is an insular world,
and can seem closed to outsiders. Ilori
creditshismentor,SirDavidAdjaye,the
British-Ghanaian architect behind theHouse Home
“Yinka struck me as a designer with an
artist’s sensibility — he’s looking at the
world through a very particular lens,”
says Sir David Adjaye of his mentee,
whom the architect has supported for
several years. “What caught my
interest is how his thought process
and approach are so distinct from the
mainstream. His furniture transcends
just function and product and acts as
a device for cultural memory.
Ilori says he is often hired by clients
who value his use of colour — “they
want the colour guy”. But Adjaye
points out that Ilori’s Technicolor
approach is more than just decorative.
“His embrace of colour theory, formWHYEVERYONEWANTS‘THECOLOURGUY’
Luke O’Donovan; Alamy Stock Photo;making, social construction and justice
is exactly the kind of designer this
generation needs.”
Ilori’s sense of social justice is evident
in his public-realm work. “People forget
the value of public art. I always felt if I
had been a kid growing up on my
estate, what it would have done for me.
We need more art in places that need
it.” Among his most recent public
commissions are a mural in Battersea,
south London (above), and an indoor
skate park in Lille (below), which had
been due to open in July.
Both works — and his “adult
playgrounds” such as the one he
created for the Cannes Lions Festival
of Creativity last year, have led to
comparisons with 1980s postmodern
designs of the Memphis Group of
architects and designers. But Ilori says
his use of colour is born of African,
not Italian, influence. “I love Memphis,
but like Picasso it was inspired by
west African culture” — specifically
its cultural and religious celebrations.
“Masquerades in Nigeria [left], Mali
and Senegal use colour in the same
way. They are spiritual, powerful and
a huge part of the culture.”HB‘That gloss is an extension
of my heritage. Nigerians
love to show off theirwealth and their clothes’
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