The present sofa is one of Shiro Kuramata's most recognisable designs, combining the material, thematic and referential tropes which earned Kuramata his status as a design revolutionary in post-war Japan. It is an early example of this classic piece, the fineness of its steel mesh, measuring a mere 1.6mm thick, setting it apart from the 2.3mm mesh used in later models, and its chrome-plating differing from the more ubiquitous later nickel-plated examples.

In the 1970s and 1980s, Kuramata focused his efforts on the formation of 'invisible objects', turning to ethereal materials such as mesh, glass and acrylic to create pieces which figured as playful distortions of deep-rooted symbols of Western design. Composed of expanded metal mesh, the 'How High is the Moon' sofa made use of an industrial design vocabulary of particular significance for Japanese designers during the post-war period of urbanisation and Westernisation, and exploited the alternation of absence and presence inherent to the medium to create an evocative reinterpretation of the typical Western bourgeois sofa.

Kuramata was drawn to industrial steel mesh, a material which, in his own words, 'proliferates like a cell within the process of eliminating', for its decorative value as much as its thematic effects, working it into many of his major designs from the '45º Latitude' table of 1985 to the 'Sing Sing' and 'Hal' chairs of 1985 and 1987. Only in the 'How High is the Moon' sofa and armchair series of 1986, however, would he isolate expanded metal mesh as his near-exclusive design medium. Organising the punctuated sheet metal around a void, Kuramata created a moiré  effect, repurposing the austere, inorganic material into an expressive form which vibrates visually as the onlooker approaches it.

Becoming a trademark piece in Kuramata's celebrated oeuvre, the legacy of the 'How High is the Moon' sofa adds weight to its title, a wistful reference to Nancy Hamilton's iconic jazz standard of 1940. Exploring solids and voids in their physical and conceptual components, Kuramata's work chimes with Hamilton's, beckoning a distant lover in a tender evocation of the elusive nature of connection.