UniArm

In the X-ray, it is not a humerus, an ulna or and a radius you see, but a coiled spring, its tension visible, plus numerous cables channeled smoothly from one end of the arm to the other. A faint outline around the components remembers the light, aluminium skin that encases them. To the scientific or technological mind, an X-ray is fascinating for the wonder of what it reveals, but it can also be a thing of beauty. In the 1930s, American radiologist Dain L. Tasker took the nascent technology of his profession and applied it to his passion for photography and flowers. The resulting gelatin silver prints of single flowers are haunting and beautiful, and many have been exhibited in galleries. Tasker’s focus may be anatomical, but the questions raised stretch beyond: “Flowers are the expression of the love life of plants,” he wrote of his work.

In more recent years, photographer Nick Veasey has produced X-ray images of designed objects, including several pieces in the design collections of London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, such as a silk taffeta Cristóbal Balenciaga dress and a 1930s Leica II 35mm camera. Like the X-ray of the UniArm, these reveal previously unseen, and sometimes surprising, components – if not all of the objects’ secrets.

In UniFor’s catalogue, designed by the company's art directors Studio Klass, it’s an unusual privilege to see inside the object, which has been created by mechanical engineer and designer Alberto Meda, along with his son, designer Francesco Meda. The Medas’ design philosophy is to hide away complex technology, rather than show it off, using its capability to simplify the objects that we live with.

In production, the arms’ extruded aluminium can be produced to different lengths, and a simple mechanism adjusts the force of the spring for the weights of the monitors. Simplicity also factors into the afterlife of the products too, with a reduced number of components resulting in easy disassembly.

Furniture, especially that which is used daily, has a close relationship with the human body. Writers have explored this relationship in language, such as in the book-length poem ‘The Table’ (1991), in which the poet Francis Ponge meditates on the vital support his table has offered him over the seven years the poem has taken to complete. Using a love of etymology to parse different meanings for this common item of furniture, the table becomes variously a “supporting platform”, a “console”, “soil for the pen”, and even “wooden mother”.

This linguistic relationship between people and their furniture also plays out physically. Tables and chairs have legs, while lamps and monitors have arms. In office parlance, “agile” working methods are desirable; on a more holistic level, people hope to live in as agile a body as possible, and design plays an important role in supporting this through ergonomics. Physiotherapists, for instance, may diagnose poor design after the fact, once years of bad posture necessitate remedial exercises – but better to prevent these problems in advance. UniFor has years of ergonomics research and experimentation in this area, as do Alberto and Francesco Meda, and understands that even the smallest interaction gains importance when repeated over time. Working on this more human scale, the UniArm recognises the need for an individual to have a high level of control over their environment, even within a large, complex office.

To support this, the UniArm comes in different forms: from the basic monitor arm with a single joint, a double-jointed monitor arm, and options with multiple branches of arms. At the top of each is the VESA monitor arm connection. Together, these parts allow the monitor to be rotated between horizontal and vertical, and its height, distance or angle adjusted. In practice, UniArm’s users can make precise, intuitive adjustments to find an ideal position – and prevent neck, shoulder and back strain. But the freedom it offers is also intended to enable dynamic working: it can be tailored to a specific task, or used to collaborate with colleagues.