Chapter 2. memoir extract
Chairs. Looking for my brother
dealing with loss
the air in the chair
the negative space
the space that was once filled
the space left behind
the SOS in loss
I’ve felt a compulsion since 2009 to photograph chairs, chairs seemingly randomly placed, well actually more that they were in unexpected places, that they took me by surprise. Chairs that had some type of quality about them, a personality, a presence. Although unexpected there was always something very natural and relaxed about their placement, not contrived. Like they were all at home. Presence in the absence.
An empty chair has always represented presence for me, it seemed obvious. Sometimes I’d think of who might have sat there, it’s a quick thought, not often dwelled upon. Sometimes I’m more interested in the composition, the colours, the placement of the chair, its context, its sculptural qualities. But ultimately I had no idea why I was photographing them, it was more of an instinct that I was following. Over the years I built up a small collection of images, some of which I posted on instagram in a series called #someoneschairsnapshots. Not any old chair would make it into the collection, just someone’s.
13/52 chairs
Friday 17th November 2023. memoir extract
dealing with loss
Following my instincts I went to the beach. It just felt like what I needed to do, I didn’t know why and I didn’t need to. I just knew I needed to go. Looking for specific jetsam it won’t appear, it will only take you by surprise when you’re not looking. Stop looking, just BE in this most tranquil of calm environments and just see what arises.
I got my newly acquired hand-made wooden slingshot out for a bit of practice. I don’t think I’d ever had a slingshot before, it felt compelling to have one.
Getting in touch with self, going deeper. Walking. Thinking.
And there it was, the unexpected, a wooden bench with a trunk as a back support, placed under the overhang of a laurel tree almost hidden out of sight. And look, a green tarp placed above, firmly tied into place to protect you from the rain. Everything so carefully thought out. There was even a red torch tied to a branch dangling above for nighttime hangouts. Someone had put a lot of effort into creating this intimate, protective world, thank you whoever you are for I was so happy to enter it and just sit. I never normally sit on the chairs, I don’t want to. Until today. Today I was drawn to it like a magnet.
Sitting there, thinking, enjoying, looking out at the beautiful view, tapping into my senses, just being.
And then I had an absolutely electrifying lightbulb epiphany moment. It came to me in a flash. I realised that all this time my photographic series Someone’s Chair had represented loss. Loss of love, loss of loved ones. All this time I had been looking for my brother Mark but I just didn’t know it, and all this time, I realise now, Mark had been coming to see me. My brother, my beautiful brother, it was him who was sitting in all those different chairs and it was him that had made me stop and look.
Tiger.On.The.Rock 