Jörg Stürzebecher at the opening of the exhibition "Concrete Poetry/poesia concreta - Eugen Gomringer, Augusto de Campos and Friends" at the Rüsselsheim Opel Villas, September 25, 2019, Photo: Simon Malz

ON THE DEATH OF JÖRG STÜRZEBECHER

Text: Stephan Ott

Jörg Stürzebecher's text Ayn Rand – American Idol appeared in form 271. When he submitted the text to the editorial office, as always in person, on a USB stick from a press kit (his own email address and internet connection were as irrelevant in his cosmos as a mobile phone), he was very relieved. There was no trace of the surreptitious to triumphant joy that usually accompanied his deliveries, having pulled off another surprise coup. Being able to publish his explanations and views on the Russian exile author and her novel The Fountainhead (still) was a more urgent concern for him in this case. The reason was that Jörg Stürzebecher was running out of time: that of his body, which he did not spare; that of the media and universities, where his topics were increasingly threatened by ignorance; that of his product archive and library, whose unique idealistic, material, and practical value only he knew, and whose main location in Koblenzer Straße in Frankfurt's Gallusviertel was threatened with demolition; and finally, the time of his apartment in Frankfurt Bockenheim (the district whose air he obviously needed to breathe), for whose continued existence he was last forced to take legal action.
Ayn Rand – American Idol therefore appeared prematurely, and the text, in my opinion, was not among Stürzebecher's best at the time, in spring 2017 – not yet among Stürzebecher's best, I should rather write. Jörg Stürzebecher's work (exhibitions, texts, teaching, lectures) is characterized by the rare ability to mature, thanks to a strength of expression and communication skills, as well as a knowledge that is unparalleled. A Stürzebecherian text – the Ayn Rand treatise is an exemplary case – tolerated editorial interventions, even demanded them. Not on the main thoroughfares, which were reliably argued without potholes. In the side streets, however, wanderers often congregated (names of companions important to him, personal events, and exclusive conclusions about past and present world affairs) who did not necessarily belong there and therefore first had to be apprehended; they at least required a query, because for unsuspecting first-time readers (and editors are nothing else) they had, indeed could not have lost anything there – even if they were then allowed to linger (or wander on) in the end. An author-editor ping-pong that gave us great pleasure.
An example: About the two antagonists in The Fountainhead, Jörg Stürzebecher writes: "Ultimately, however, the conformist Keating fails and Roark prevails; the individual and unique triumphs over the one who promises to satisfy popular desires. Those who wish can understand this as a metaphor." The second sentence is such a wanderer who walked on and, at the latest now, in August 2020, has indeed lost something in this text.

I met Jörg Stürzebecher in 1987. I no longer remember if it was at Frankfurt University, where we both studied German literature, or at the German Design Council. In any case, it was the time when Michael Erlhoff headed the Council and offered many young people an opportunity, which not everyone immediately grasped. Jörg Stürzebecher, however, did, and so his texts appeared in Design Report, in which he was able to skillfully combine his topics from architecture, design, art, literature, and not least those derived from his everyday experience. If anyone wanted and could work interdisciplinarily, it was him. "Extremely clever and always rushed," a later colleague recalls Jörg – it cannot be formulated more succinctly.

What followed was the heyday of his creative work. The digital age was just breaking into everyday life; at that time, analogously acquired knowledge and Google-free research skills were still considered undisputed prerequisites for serious work. Jörg Stürzebecher published standards that are still valid today on Max Burchartz (1993), Richard Paul Lohse (1999), and Anton Stankowski (2006), to name only those he himself wanted to be mentioned in his author CV. His nine-part Design History for Design Report (1994/1995) and his synoptic Chronicle of Design from 1900 to 1995 published in a Spiegel Special (1995) are still recommended reading for all students and interested parties. Jörg Stürzebecher gave lectures, conceived exhibitions (the word "curate" was anathema to him, precisely because of its inflationary use), and taught at numerous German universities – unforgettable, among other things, is his collection of disposable cups, which he personally gathered, with which he was able to teach students all aspects of design: aesthetics, ergonomics, ethics, color, manufacturing technology, form, brand, material, typography...

Jörg Stürzebecher's coffee cup collection. In form 289, appearing on September 22, his column "Everyday objects that don't age" will appear for the last time, discussing exactly this object. Photo: Manolis Baier

Günter Kupetz – Industrial Design, 2006, Photo: "Frankfurter Fundbüro"

From the early 2000s onwards, we collaborated sporadically, including telling the History of a Door Handle Gang using the Duden dictionary with the protagonists Ferdinand, Johannes, Max, Ludwig, Walter, and the gang leader Dr. Socrates, in the catalogue for the exhibition on the door handle and door knob manufacturer FSB at the German Architecture Museum (2002). That was already great fun. When I supported a content decision against Jörg Stürzebecher within the framework of the German Design Council exhibition "design deutschland" in 2006, it was a massive breach of trust for him. Here, too, a wanderer from American Idol points the way: "Nevertheless, her [Ayn Rand's, editor's note] demand for consistency is an important requirement, especially for designers, as one knows how clients like to interfere with designs." This estrangement also had consequences for the parallel publication Günter Kupetz – Industrial Design (2006), which he had significantly co-conceived and co-published, but in which he did not want to be mentioned or "thanked" due to the events. That's where the fun ended. Pride, strictness, stubbornness – Stürzebecher could also be rigorously consistent here. In our case, it took until 2013 before he spoke a word to me again.

Despite the passing of time, he remained a keen, even biting, analyst of the present until the very end. He called the Fridays for Future demonstrators, who emulated Swedish activist Greta Thunberg, "Grétins," not necessarily because of their cause – I know no one with a better CO2 footprint – but because he abhorred their "mushy knowledge and sentimentality," and because he held the unshakable conviction that problems cannot really be solved anyway. In this respect, he was unyielding.

After I left the form editorial office, we would call each other weekly, lamenting the continuing slump in railway station bookstores, marveling at the absurdities of names, events, and conclusions, and escalating into high sarcasm – well aware that the air up there is as thin as on the peaks of ignorance. It was out of this ambivalence (1) that Jörg Stürzebecher continued to write for form until the end, and he forbade any comment on it. It was out of this ambivalence (2) that this tribute was written especially for form.

Finally, the strangely fitting title of this obituary needs to be clarified. When a project manager at the German Design Council once entered the office where Jörg and I were working on the publication celebrating the Council's 50th anniversary, and jokingly (though jokes can often turn serious) complained that Jörg hadn't greeted him, Jörg, also only half-jokingly, retorted, "Whoever comes in, greets!" To use an impolite snap to confront hierarchical demands with rules of etiquette – that was perfectly in line with Jörg Stürzebecher's anarchic taste. In this, I am sure, we will recognize him again one day – whenever, wherever that may be.

Adiós, compañero. See you again!