Our house is furnished with a ragtag collection of mismatched furniture, from curbside refugees like the walnut veneered sliding door credenza in the living room that our stereo equipment rests on, to the 9 foot long nubbly wool covered sofa from 1955 that came out of a nostalia shop in Lancaster, to the antique fumed oak Stickley library table sitting across the room. Some of it I acquired new and paid for in installments that stretched over years. My very low production Hans Wegner dining table with the set of Arne Jacobsen "7" series chairs falls into that category, purchased when I was relatively poor and in my twenties, and special ordered from a shop in Denmark. A few pieces were gifts, notably my Arts & Crafts smoking cabinet, and a gorgeous patterned deep pile wool carpet that defines the living room space, both from my wife. I could ramble on about these cherished objects all afternoon but I digress from the main topic here.
Four years ago, partly to pull myself out of a nasty little bout with my old friend Depression, I did a series of two dozen drawings of a favorite chair in our living room. It's an old chenille clad fireside chair that Tina bought at an estate sale in Philadelphia, when she was breaking up with her first husband ten years before we met. A large, heavy piece that even then needed to be re-upholstered, she paid $175 for it and carried it home herself, proud of the first piece of furniture she had acquired for herself that she really liked. She was never able to find vintage fabric that she felt would be suitable, and so it has continued to become more ragged. I've re-tied the springs and done an amateur job of stuffing the disintegrating cotton batting back into the seat two or three times. And as tempting as it would be to have it professionally redone, I have always loved it for its deep, worn out comfort and fraying, faded fabric. If we made it like new, I suspect that much of its appeal, at least for me, would be lost. And it wouldn't be nearly as much fun or as interesting to draw.
I have my own private reasons for choosing to do so many drawings with pipes as subjects, and they have less to do with my admitted fascinated obsession with pipes than with something more difficult to articulate. So with this chair. And yes, to the very sharp eyed and imaginative pipe connoisseur, that is a Jack Howell 283 shape "A Passion for Pipes" 2011 Pipe of the Year, sitting on the arm, and no, I am not allowed to smoke while sitting in it.
