I collect chairs. It makes sense. A chair is a place to sit. But my collection of chairs is about much more than that.
There is something beautiful and timeless about a chair. Its very shape is evocative.
It can call to me, make me feel something.
Even if I don’t sit in it, it can make me feel comforted, comfortable. I can almost see my old Grandma sitting there chatting with me.
I wonder sometimes if I collect chairs just to have a place to put a pillow
or a beautiful textile.
Chairs can become little art galleries.
The bones of a chair can look like a sculpture.
A homey still life interacting with the filtering light.
Each one of my chairs has their own personality and says something different to me.
Sometimes I think that I have too many chairs.
What a silly thought.