So, along the lines of my last post, I have this fantasy hobby in which I take old chairs and repair and improve them (read decorate and maybe cushion up) then give away or sell them. In my fantasy, I use photographs, maps, other documents, pieces of fabric, mosaic tiles and paints to Improve the chair- to bring out a theme and say something- poetry in furniture form.
Yes, that’s right, I have a thing for chairs. It is strange because in a house or out in restaurants or even in furniture shops, chairs are not something I immediately gravitate towards, but driving around town on errands, I am always drawn to the old chairs and sofas and to a lesser extent other furniture that is left by the side of the road on garbage day. I always want to stop and see what is wrong with them, see if they are still useful, see if they could be made more interesting.
I think that the reason that new or even in current use chairs don’t draw my attention is that they don’t have stories yet, but old chairs- old chairs have stories to tell, even if the only story you can really get from them is how they were worn out or broken. I want to take old chairs, learn their stories and then make the story more plain – a theme on their seat for anyone to read.
My dear husband dislikes this tendency in me to look at chairs and drool as we drive past. He always reminds me of how little spare space we have in our house and, of course, he is right. That doesn’t mean I can’t keep my fantasy hobby in my head, right?