“SAM CHERMAYEFF. SPY OR COMMANDO FOR HIRE”, says a business card Sam’s father Ivan designed for him when he was a boy. When I first met Sam (we briefly bumped into each other a couple of days earlier), he was wearing a headscarf and guarding a Pierre Jeanneret chair. By the early morning hours, we had become friends and worn all kinds of things. It was the same night I met Bobby. Sam has done many things, such as living in Tokyo and working for SANAA, curating the Architecture Biennial in Venice with Sejima, or setting up shop in Berlin together with the wonderful Johanna Meyer-Grohbrügge under the name June 14. We are all entangled in many ways. But that’s probably not what is essential about Sam. He builds things as much as he tears them down. I often have a hard time talking to him. He leaves gentle slivering marks on your life. Sometimes, he will give you things, such as an odd little Tiffany ashtray, a spoon by Sejima, or a piece of the material he likes to work with. Sam is silver.
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