Mid-century purists might wince at the thought, but the Plane Lounge Chair doesn’t care. It won’t play to nostalgia or mimicry. What it does instead is flatten the idea of a lounge chair to its most elemental form—and then, somehow, elevate that to high art. Designed by Jamie McLellan for Resident, the Plane feels like it was born on a CAD file and sculpted with a bandsaw in the same breath. It’s pure timber geometry, given purpose and poise.
Every surface is either dead flat or traced from a 2D curve. There’s no ambiguous blending or digitally massaged transitions. The legs aren’t legs – they’re slabs. Thick, grounded runners that stretch the full depth of the chair, as if they were always part of the floor itself. Between them, a cantilevered seat sits like a wooden diving board, broad and unapologetic. It doesn’t taper, doesn’t float. It just exists – with a certain architectural inevitability.
Designer: Jamie McLellan
The backrest, a single vertical sheet, tilts just enough to catch your spine. No lumbar games or upholstery tricks. Just honest inclination. And while the whole thing reads rigid, sitting in it is like leaning into trust. You’re not cradled, you’re anchored. The comfort comes not from softness, but from precision. The angle of the back, the depth of the seat (just over 20 inches), the thickness of each timber slab – it’s all calibrated to let the material do the talking.
In a way, the Plane Lounge Chair channels the same quiet radicalism as Gerrit Rietveld’s Red and Blue Chair. Both are object and idea at once. But where Rietveld’s piece feels like a manifesto in color and form, McLellan’s version whispers its intent. It’s heavy, it’s grounded, and yet it doesn’t dominate the room. It doesn’t need to. It becomes the room’s pause button.
Built in New Zealand from solid oak or ash, depending on the finish, the Plane doesn’t hide its joins or complicate its story. No complex carpentry tricks, no dovetails begging for attention. The flat-pack aesthetic is intentional, even proud. It’s as if someone asked, “How few moves can we make while still creating a place worth staying in?”
And that’s really the point. In an era of noise and over-design, the Plane Lounge Chair speaks in geometry and silence. It doesn’t compete. It holds space. With no soft edges, it somehow softens the room. A contradiction? Sure. But in the best kind of way – the kind that feels like clarity.
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