MeMohrable — The Imagined Interview: What Would Verner Panton Say Today?

1 November 2025

In his Copenhagen studio, time seems to stand still, but the light keeps changing.
Every surface breathes, every curve reflects a thought.
Verner Panton sits in silence, surrounded by his own creations — the Panton Chair, the Panthella lamp, the psychedelic fabrics of Visiona 2. Everything pulses with color, as if matter itself were alive.

Watching him today, in 2025, one question feels inevitable: how do you choose a color in a world afraid of it? Panton would answer without hesitation:
«Choosing colors should never be a gamble. It should be a conscious decision. Colors have meaning and function.»

For him, color was never decoration — it was an ethical gesture. Every hue carried intention, energy, humanity. Color could heal, stimulate, educate. It wasn’t used to embellish, but to create relationships between people and space.

When asked about his boldness, he would smile gently:
«Most people spend their lives in a grey-beige conformity, terrified of using color.» There was no judgment in his tone — only compassion. For Panton, neutrality was a form of fear, and fear was the opposite of life.

Next to him stands the Panton Chair — a single, fluid line born in 1960.

Why a chair, and why that shape?
Perhaps to prove that even an everyday gesture can be poetic.
«I wanted to draw it in one stroke,» he said. «A free form, a line that breathes.»

Today, in 2025, the chair lives on in new recycled plastic versions yet retains the same lightness — a symbol of creative freedom, where form, function, and feeling coexist.
Color, again, is inseparable — not an addition, but a breath.
«You sit more comfortably on a color you like», he often said.
In that sentence lies his entire idea of well-being: you only feel at home within what you love.

A Panthella lamp casts its soft, even glow.
Panton looks at it and says quietly:
«Light and color are closely related. Colors can change completely depending on whether the light is natural or artificial, strong or dim».

So what would he say today, in an era obsessed with perfect LED lighting?
He’d probably remind us that light isn’t there to help us see — it’s there to make us feel.
For him, illumination was a living material, a rhythm of space.
A room without changing light, he’d say, is a room without breath.
«The perception of color is influenced by the texture of the material», he often noted.
Velvet, polished metal, satin plastic — each altered light’s behavior.
Every surface had its own voice, and the designer’s role was to listen.

Among his most personal creations was Visiona 2, designed in 197: an immersive environment for Bayer — a mental landscape of light, sound, softness, and saturated color.
Looking at it now, it feels prophetic — anticipating our digital worlds, immersive installations, and sensory metaverses.
Yet its goal was deeply human, not technological.
«The main purpose of my work is to inspire people to use their imagination and make their surroundings more exciting», he said.
Imagination, for Panton, was a civic duty — the courage to reinvent the world with lightness, not submission.

When it came to failure, he never flinched.
«A failed experiment can be more important than a banal project.»
In 2025, that sounds almost radical. In a world obsessed with success metrics, Panton would remind us that design is, above all, research — a space where it’s noble to fail intelligently.

Failure, to him, was not waste but learning — every project a laboratory for understanding human perception. That was his true modernity: openness as a method.

And what would he say about sustainability today?
He wouldn’t speak of rules, but of responsibility.
Not of materials, but of emotions. He’d say an object is sustainable when it continues to inspire.
«You don’t throw away something that moves you.»
For him, caring for the planet began with loving what we create — doing less, but better; designing for endurance, not replacement.

Even his own Panton Chair would stand as proof: a timeless form, capable of evolving without losing its soul.
In his view, beauty wasn’t fragile — it was resilient because it was alive.

As the color of the sky melts into the hues of his lamps, the conversation fades.
Panton rises, places his hand on the curve of his chair, and lets the light finish speaking.
«Don’t be afraid of color» he would still say. «It’s the visible form of courage».

And in his silence remains a clear lesson: color is awareness, error is discovery, sustainability is affection, and creativity — always — a responsibility.

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