In 2006 I watched a discarded arm chair make its way up and down Lenox Ave between 136th and 137th over the course of a couple weeks before it disappeared, reappeared and then vanished again completely. Every day of that two-week journey, it became somewhat of an anticipated guessing game to see where the chair would be on the block. Since then, I've been very conscious of chairs on the street and I've often wondered where they've been, whom they've supported and where they'll end up. Chairs are particularly interesting to me because they are for resting and visiting. They are for positioning yourself to be productive or social or listening or slothful or pensive. They are for sitting on or standing on or leaning against or placing on. And then we throw them away and move on. I think there is symbolism in that.
This is a blog about street chairs and the meaning of life--not like bus benches or overturned buckets or front stoops, but actual chairs that were obtained by whatever means, used to whatever extent and left on the street to whatever may come.