From the editors
ABANDONED LOUNGE Words and images Christopher Clarkson
The humble chair, couch, or stool, represents a place of rest. That place where you can be still. It invites you to cease your endless departure and stay a while. Much like a house, it beckons to you: "Come, you have travelled far, be at ease, breathe, relax." The humble chair, couch, or stool, however, can take on an interestingly sinister character when one stops to ask - why is it empty? Where did the people go? What have these 'normal' objects witnessed, and what memories do they carry in the folds of their faux leather, the screws in their wood, and the hair in their wheels?
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That place which is no longer occupied is a curious thing. The chair not-in-use tells the story of thousands of people that have used it in the past; the story of thousands of people who have left. Please, take a moment to think about the chairs which you have sat on in your lifetime, and the events that have taken place while they sheltered you ‌ And then acknowledge the fact that your story with any particular chair is not necessarily only your story but one you share with many people, in which case, really the chair is the protagonist of our collective seated narrative: it is a kind of silent witness and crucial actor in everyone’s life. This observation is
really strengthened by the chairs which have seemingly fallen out of use, and in a sense, reached the end of their story. All chairs have been designed to sit on, however, based on the space in which the chair is in, its function is defined (cinema chairs as opposed to a medical chair for example), and this space acts as a catalyst for the chair’s life. When the chair is relocated, suddenly its context-based purpose changes, and so too does its function, so what is it exactly that happens when a chair is positioned in a place that renders it not a good place to sit? In the basement of a World War II bunker beneath Berlin's abandoned airport, Tempelhof, a modest wooden chair stands stark in the yellow fluorescence of a single tube overhead. Most of the time, the chair waits quietly in a dustless darkness. The disuse of this chair tells an interesting story, not only of those who once used it and likely feared for their lives from bombers overhead; but also of us now: a kind of optimistic exclamation of the fact that we don't need this chair and that we are not at war.
