A little over a year ago, on Jan 4, 2008, Jens Quistgaard died at 88.
I found out a few weeks later while finalizing the research for my book, Danish Pepper. I was scouring Danish design sites late at night using a free online translator to see if there were any additional biographical facts I could use in the book. I found a Danish bio of JHQ , and when I put the last sentence in the translator it spit out: Quistgaard died January 2008. I did a double take – wait – it’s Jan 2008 right now and this is the first I’ve heard of it. A little (well, a lot) of web searching later and I found a Danish newspaper’s online obituary confirming this translation to be correct.
I was about a month away from finishing a book about this man. I had spent the last two years working on it, thinking about how to tell the story of his life through his pepper mill designs. Understandably, much was racing through my mind. He never saw my book. I didn’t get to ask him any questions. This is so sad. What a great life he had. How come this isn’t getting more news coverage? Why am I finding this only in Danish? Why does the obituary only have a photo of a can opener he designed in the 50s? What does this mean for my book?
Although I was feeling sadness, it was tempered by a feeling that he had led such a long and productive life. I chose to focus on celebrating his life by finishing the book and getting it out there for the world to see.
A year later, I still get asked if I got to meet Jens Quistgaard, and sadly, I have to say “no”. However, through the book, I have had some correspondence with his family. Seeing him as a family man and knowing how his family misses him as part of their lives, rather than as a great designer, keeps in focus the humanity of the situation.
I still miss him and wish I had the chance to meet him, but I feel like I got to know him through his design and the experience I had writing the book. And I feel like a better person because of it. Thanks, Jens.
