Lago’s Fluttua is not its only unusual characteristic, or even its most unusual one: what we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a gravity-defying bed… and we haven’t even left the earth’s orbit yet (so far as we know). Fluttua isn’t the only piece to play with our Newtonian expectations. We’ve seen the amazing, evaporating legs of the Fade Out Chair, as well as the inscrutable two-legged balancing act of Duffy London’s Shadow Chair, but never before have we witnessed such comprehensive airiness in a place of repose. The ostensibly floatational character of Fluttua is ideal in a bed, for what other symbolic/metaphoric device better evokes an idealized slumber? Defying the very pull of the earth, Fluttua’s fortunate inhabitants would seem to become weightless as they slept, drifting into the land of nod atop so many diaphanous and vaporous clouds.
The illusion is lovely, and I believe it will foster the best kind of dream-less sleep, but as the better half of Penn and Teller knows, a great trick only becomes more beautiful when its secret is revealed. Lago knows this as well, so they don’t deign to inform us that the bed’s levitational appearance is achieved via a simple cantilevered concept: the bed frame is mounted to the wall at one end, while a single pedestal foot in the center provides the structural lynchpin for the perfect distribution of weight around the bed’s circumference. The strategy achieves a sort of 360 degree cantilever—distinct from most cantilevered structures, which distribute weight along a rectangular plane. The supportive foot is “hidden,” from most perspectives, because it’s low to the ground and thus out of sight, or obscured by “perfectly” arranged coverlets and duvets. But even with the backstage mechanics of Fluttua revealed, the piece remains exceptionally enchanting. And, if you believe the fairy tales, a nightly dose of enchantment is the perfect segue to the wonderful rejuvenation of deep sleep.