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| In regards to the Red Chair Series: Almost 20 years ago, I walked into an antique store in Venice, California. The store was jammed with over priced furniture that I had to carefully maneuver around to find my footing. As I rounded one corner, there it was: a red chair sitting by itself. So simple in design, it was incongruous amongst rich mahogany and walnut antique treasures. I assume that’s why they isolated it to a corner. I asked the clerk about it. She said she didn’t know where it had come from. It had been at the store for as long as she could remember. It was the only one they had. I left the store, went home and continued my day. The red chair stayed in my thoughts. As the hours passed, I found myself a bit obsessed with this silly chair. Its paint was a flat red, baring no sheen, and it was a heavy wood. There was nothing special about it. It was just a basic chair. I got in my car, drove back to the store and bought the chair. I brought it home, set on the floor in front of it and looked at it. My mind filled with questions: Had the chair been part of a set once, and if so, where were the other chairs? Who had owned it? How did it end up in the antique store? Did its prior owner die, or did they just abandon it? Could it be 50 or even 100 years old? Had this chair seen every great world event for the past century? How many people had set in this chair? Even more important, who had painted it red and why? Of course the red chair never gave me a clue to it’s past, but I will tell you this: It is, and will always be, my red chair. Vikki North |
(Shel Silverstein,The Giving Tree,1964) |
