Original Ptolomeo is the self-standing bookcase that doesn’t require any further presentation: it is simple, revolutionary, innovative, as sudden as an intuition and as surprising as its success.
Original Ptolomeo is a container that hides its shape to enhance its content, eliminating the “superfluous” to highlight the essential, namely the books. The bookcase is a simple metal column to which thin shelves, also in metal, are attached. The shelves gradually disappear as the column is filled with books. When it is full, Original Ptolomeo becomes totally imperceptible and it appears as if the books are standing up on their own.
Designed by Bruno Rainaldi, winner of the 2004 Compasso d’Oro, Original Ptolomeo stems from observation rather than from a formal process and translates an idea that is as simple as it is ingenious, i.e. transforming a pile of books into a design object, into a furnishing accessory. A bookcase that is as “banal” as it is bold, so as to become a contemporary icon, a harmonious piece of art. Like all pieces of art, it is autographed on its base with the designer’s signature.
Available in 3 different heights, Original Ptolomeo rests on a solid base - in stainless steel or lacquered metal co-ordinated with the frame - suitably studied to ensure its full stability.
Slight, tall and essential: it takes up little room and can be placed in any context, from the more traditional to the more contemporary , also thanks to the different finishes (black, white, stainless steel or corten effect) that allow it to adapt to all kinds of environment.
Original Ptolomeo is a tribute to books and to he who history recalls as being the first person to have taken care of them: Ptolemy I Soter, whom we owe the idea, in the 3rd Cent. b.C., of establishing the Royal Library in Alexandria in Egypt.
“ Piles of books on the study tables, too many to get round with the duster. Piles of books on all the other table in the house, that you have to move every time you need to lay the table. A pile on the bedside table to the left of the bed, and another on the floor beside the bed. Some more on the right. Books piled up in the spaces between others stacked on the book-shelves. Not really manageable the pile on the sofa in all its multiplicity of shape and content. Finding the essay on The order of Things, bought last Saturday, is no easy matter. On the chest in the entrance hall, belonging to some greatgrandmother or other and relic of tens of removals, a veritable forest of piles has grown up. Forgotten uncut books swallowed up who knows where. This is my home. This in all the houses where books, that indispensable prop of life, are cherished. Look at the piles, gaze fascinated at those so high that they seem to mock the law of gravity. Translate this fantastic image into a real object. Ptolomeo act one. Dedicated to he who, first, collected with intelligent passion everything that had ever been written, with no censure, no fear.”