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For designers, the chair is an archetypal form—a challenge. Over the years, various designers have sought to create the most efficient chair, the most ergomatic chair, the most elegant chair, the perfect chair, the ur-chair, their signature chair, etcetera. Necessarily, ‘integrity’, in one form or another, has been crucial to their grail quests. But the Italian-born London-based designer Martino Gamper threw integrity to the wind to create his project 100 Chairs in 100 Days a decade ago. He set himself an assignment: to create a chair a day for 100 days, mostly by collaging together bits of discarded and donated chairs. Each chair had to be unique. The project was a prompt to (and test of) his creativity, working within the limitations of the materials to hand and the time available. Gamper wasn’t seeking to make the perfect chair but to create a ‘three-dimensional sketchbook’, a lexicon of alternative ideas. Grafting contrasting, even opposing design logics and languages (with ranging historical and class associations), his hybrids were witty, absurd, conflicted. It was as if Gamper was trying to increase the genetic diversity of the chair, through perverse, experimental cross-breeding. It was the same impulse that gave us the cronut and the cruffin, the Cockapoo and the Labradoodle. At City Gallery Wellington, half the ensemble is on one side of the room, arrayed in rows and columns—a phalanx; the other half is on the other side, all higglety-piggeldty—feral. It’s pitch perfect for this project, where Gamper rules out nothing. Either, or, and both. The opposite is just as good (until 13 August).