Stories of Lundia

Spence:

The attached are photos of my sister and I. The first is of us in front of her Lundia shelves, new at the time, in her apartment in Brooklyn, NY. She thinks that was in 1969. The second was taken last week (2024), in her place in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The shelves are still serving their purpose well, darkened with age but proving themselves to be, so far, indestructible in spite of getting moved from place to place over the years. I have to add: I've ALWAYS wanted my own Lundia system, but only got one last year, in an effort to tidy up my art studio; and my sister was an interior designer (she's worked all over the world) and found Lundia looks just fine out in the open in a home - in spite of some perceptions that it was strictly for industrial applications.

Patricia:

I would love to share my Lundia story. My brother Spencer is 11 years younger than I am. He would hitchhike from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Brooklyn Heights for a visit. I can’t imagine how our mother let him do this. So he has loved these shelves since he saw mine in 1969. The story of my old Lundia shelves is taking on a life of their own. I’m an Interior designer and was working in New York in 1969. I was influenced by the British designer Terence Conran who had a similar shelving system in his furniture line. I can’t remember how I found Lundia but my shelves have survived all these years with no problems. I wish I had aged as well. I have convinced family and friends to buy Lundia. My shelves have been moved many times. In these days of build in obsoletion it is good to own a product of such quality.

Lundia Shelves as a Metaphor for Life

Sanni Tee Tee (Blog re-published with her permission)

If I were to make an autobiographical film, the Lundia shelves would play a significant role in depicting different stages of life and turning points in life. My parents would assemble their first Lundia in the early 1970s in their first common student box. Later, they would put their limo figs, troll leaves and numerous books on Lundia's shelves in a small two-bedroom. In the same place where, a year from now, on a sunny, frosty day, a baby, the firstborn, would be carried. Apartments would increase, as would the number of children. More Lundia would be purchased, first used and then, with the money saved, new. Different levels, new ladders, support grids, drawers. Holder knobs in paper bags.

In the early 1990s, some Lundia would be painted white. As such, they would be better suited to the interior. Despite the careful work, the paint sticks would flow into some of the holes of the holder knobs so that the knobs would want to get stuck. Children would find hundreds of tight buttonholes when rooms and furniture were changed in middle school and high school. In the fall after graduation, I would move into my first home; roommate with a friend in a new place of study. The bookshelves from my childhood home room would be packed into a moving van, which I would drive briskly myself to my new home. I would choose a room that is twice as big, and through which there would be access to my roommate's room. Backing boards would be procured in Lundia. Shelves could now function as space dividers and bring privacy. As a novelty, a deep shelf for the massive computer screen (it was 1997) and a slide-out shelf for the keyboard would also be purchased. It would be fine to write essays for the communications approbator.

After that, my place of study would change. Apartments and living partners would change. I would learn to assemble and disassemble the entire Lundia set by myself, without helping hands. Life would take different turns; cohabitation, student exchange abroad, divorce, new relationship, moving in together... Lundia would be assembled and dismantled. The new partner would have as much Lundia as I do. Living together would continue and our shelves would be mixed up just like books, records and movies. We would no longer know and be able to remember which parts of the shelves were originally yours and which were mine. New parts would also be acquired, mostly used when they happened to be available from someone you know.

In the early 2000s, my degree would be completed, and then a child would be born. A few records would be removed from one of the meter-wide shelves in the study and replaced, at an ergonomic height, with a level even bigger than the computer level of the 90s. Treatment table for baby. The shelf would be bolted to the wall for safety. Just before the birth of the second child, we would move to a detached house. When piling up the shelves in the new home, we would think that they would now be in their permanent, final places. These four shelves in the living room, this shelf and this workstation in the study, these two in the children's rooms...

Nine years have passed. Now Lundia changes place in our house again. There has been one more child, the room order lives on. The study will move to the basement and our parents' bedroom to the middle floor. The youth will have the entire upper floor to themselves. While moving the shelves, jamming fasteners into the pockets of the woolen jacket and tinkering with the big tabletop of the workstation, I thought that this is the thing that connects me to my parents. And maybe also in the future my children and maybe my grandchildren to me. Household items are passed down from generation to generation - no matter how many memories are associated with them. Values. Everyday experiences and great emotions.

Carrying shelves and ladders from downstairs to upstairs, I wondered when the shelves would move next. When the first child eventually moves out of the house? When the children leave one after the other? Can they worry about their Lundia then? Do I help them pack them into the moving truck? To pile up in a new home, a studio apartment or a student cell in a foreign city. May I remind you: "The support grids must always be attached." "Install the top and bottom shelves in place first, so the structure stays together." "Remember to wipe the dust from the top shelves." "When you take the shelves to the warehouse, tape the button bags to the shelf plates so they stay in place." And how empty our house will be when all these shelves, all these books, all these children are eventually gone. Maybe I'll pile my Lundia for the last time as a widowed retired grandmother in a small downtown apartment. The one where, with the help of my children and grandchildren, I will move to when I can no longer keep the house and can't climb the stairs anymore. Yes, I still assemble the shelves myself.

Sanni:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

See the video of our closet... It turned out beautifully!

Diane T.,       Glen Allen, Virginia                     Finish: Clear Finish