"But I think it's important that things endure"
About this Quote
The line lands as a quiet rebuke to throwaway culture. Spoken by Robin Day, the British modernist whose furniture helped define postwar daily life, it captures an ethic that guided his work: objects should last not just materially but morally, serving people well over time. Day came of age in an era of scarcity and civic rebuilding, and he saw design as a public service. He pursued clarity of structure, economy of means, and a pared-back elegance meant to withstand fashion. Endurance was a social virtue as much as a technical goal.
For Day, longevity meant more than rugged materials. It implied forms that remain intelligible and useful long after trend cycles turn. A chair with honest construction invites repair; a restrained silhouette escapes the glare of novelty. His famous polypropylene chair, designed for mass production and everyday settings, embodies that stance. Affordable and robust, it appears in school halls and community spaces decades after its debut, a modest workhorse whose persistence is its statement.
There is also an environmental undertone. Long-lived objects reduce waste; designs that can be maintained, stacked, and reconfigured extend their utility and lower their footprint. Day was arguing for sustainability before the word became a slogan, trusting that good design is responsible design. He favored integrity over excess: materials used precisely where needed, ornament replaced by proportion, comfort delivered through structure rather than padding and display.
The opening word, "But", suggests resistance to the pressure for the new for its own sake. In a market that prizes surprise, endurance sounds conservative; Day treats it as progressive, even humane. Things that endure carry memory, stabilize routines, and make public life possible in quiet ways. That vision speaks directly to the present, where the right to repair, circular economies, and civic-minded design are again urgent. To make something endure is not to resist change; it is to craft change that people can live with.
For Day, longevity meant more than rugged materials. It implied forms that remain intelligible and useful long after trend cycles turn. A chair with honest construction invites repair; a restrained silhouette escapes the glare of novelty. His famous polypropylene chair, designed for mass production and everyday settings, embodies that stance. Affordable and robust, it appears in school halls and community spaces decades after its debut, a modest workhorse whose persistence is its statement.
There is also an environmental undertone. Long-lived objects reduce waste; designs that can be maintained, stacked, and reconfigured extend their utility and lower their footprint. Day was arguing for sustainability before the word became a slogan, trusting that good design is responsible design. He favored integrity over excess: materials used precisely where needed, ornament replaced by proportion, comfort delivered through structure rather than padding and display.
The opening word, "But", suggests resistance to the pressure for the new for its own sake. In a market that prizes surprise, endurance sounds conservative; Day treats it as progressive, even humane. Things that endure carry memory, stabilize routines, and make public life possible in quiet ways. That vision speaks directly to the present, where the right to repair, circular economies, and civic-minded design are again urgent. To make something endure is not to resist change; it is to craft change that people can live with.
Quote Details
| Topic | Legacy & Remembrance |
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