I was struck by something she wrote at the Museum exhibit of O’Keefe’s work: “I take photos of what I see, often repeatedly because it is stuck in my head. That is art for me.”
This chair, destined to be burned, is a haunting memory; there’s something about it that stirs my melancholy and pathos. I spent years sitting in this chair, and when its legs finally gave way, we had to part with it.
As for Zip, the eyes in this picture suggest the rascal in him, which is quite significant. It’s a fortunate shot. We often toss out the most familiar things in our consciousness to get more things to rot and be throned out. I like taking these kinds of things we see.
“When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade without further introduction.”
Mark Twain
I have a rocking chair just like yours in the same style. It was my great grandfathers. Sorry to see yours go.
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