Saturday, August 2, 2008

The Green Chair

My day job requires me to be so left-brained that I have to sneak out on most days for a little right-brained activity. Most of my lunch hour is spent perusing the little isles of three of my favorite second-hand shops down the block from where I work. I just love the way the old unwanted vintage items speak to me of their adventures. About two years ago I stumbled upon this green chair in one of these lovely little shops and it really had something to say. I took it home and listened intently until one day, I was ready to tell its story. I picked up a paint brush, some green paint and went at the canvas with abandon, all the while thinking of that lovely green chair and the stories it had to tell. It took me a while to get the courage to post the painting on Etsy, but I eventually did, knowing full well that the chair would continue to tell me its story and I would continue to paint it.


Here's my Etsy listing:

Full Title: "The Green Chair and Other Nonsense Stories"

Specs: 9 1/2 X 6
Acrylics Hard Paper Board

I like to frequent second hand shops for the stories that are told there. You heard me right. I walk in and listen to the many tales that are told by those discarded, unwanted, unloved and "unshiny" things there. They are mainly boring as these things take me through their lamentable existence as ordinary household items. Like the pair of socks that silently brood because they were so despicable the tag was still on them, their owner never having worn them. Or that lovely wooden spoon that couldn't get over the fact she would never again feel her owner's lips tasting spaghetti sauce from her. Or the angry boardgame upset that it had been sitting in a dark, damp closet for 8 years, his owner having moved onto computer games. Oh, but that chair...that little green chair. That green chair of wood with accents of gold and woven seat of twine with accents of stains. THAT was a chair with purpose, whose life was not wasted nor whose story was sad. Now...SHE had a story to tell. And it was beautiful. She radiated with joy and I listened intently as she wove for me a tale of the little child she once seated.