In this remote Far West Texas town, where the high desert meets the intellectual rigor of art, the Chinati Foundation stands as a monument to permanence and stark geometry. It is a place dedicated to Donald Judd’s vision: objects that exist in dialogue with space, light, and time. For this year’s Chinati Weekend, the foundation is hosting an artist whose philosophy aligns with Judd’s other focus—community.
Mexican architect and designer Óscar Hagerman, the Spanish-born architect who has spent his life working with and for Mexico’s Indigenous and rural communities, is not known for grand, conceptual gestures. He is known for necessity. He is known for chairs.
His exhibition, Sillas de México (Chairs of Mexico) are objects that are not static works of fine art, but living, breathing records of communal craft and practical comfort.
Born in Spain and a resident of Mexico since the 1950s, Hagerman, now in his late eighties, embodies a form of architectural practice that rejects the spotlight and the skyscraper. He views his craft not as a tool for monumentality but for human connection and dignity.
His career has been dedicated to low-cost, high-impact designs: schools built with local materials in Oaxaca, housing projects that honor Indigenous building traditions in Chiapas, and social centers that bring communities together. But it is his furniture, specifically his chairs, that distill his philosophy to its purest form.
“For me, working with furniture is ‘working with the smallest scale of architecture,’” Hagerman once noted, emphasizing that the chair holds a singular, democratic significance. He is captivated by, as he calls it, “that wooden chair that is in all the villages of Mexico.” It is an object of universal need, a place of rest, conversation, and family, stripped of pretense.
Hagerman’s chairs are designed to be built by local carpenters using local wood—an open-source approach years before the term was popularized. His famous Silla Hagerman is a testament to this, designed for maximum comfort, local affordability, and easy reproduction. These pieces are never meant to be exclusive; they are intended to spread.
Donald Judd, of course, also designed furniture in a variety of materials and styles that can still be produced today.
The design community has long lauded Hagerman for his ethical commitment, honoring him with awards such as the Prince Claus Laureate. The jury praised him for his “engaged approach to architecture and design for Indigenous communities, and for bridging the gap between sophisticated design and people’s needs.”
This “bridging” is what makes his presence in Marfa so compelling. In a town sometimes criticized for its art-world exclusivity, Hagerman brings a radical accessibility.
Hagerman’s philosophy challenges the notion of the “masterpiece” and the “original.” He has always championed the replicability of design, preferring to disseminate ideas rather than own them.