Reflections on Stop & Chat with Timber!

I think fondly of the visitors who stopped to chat with me in the Timber! exhibit, who admired the avant-garde aesthetics of the furniture, Egon Schiele’s Expressionistic paintings, and the waterfalls of fabric. How satisfying to have conversations that assisted visitors in exploring ecological themes, and bridges that symbolically connected the diminishing European beech forests with the waning days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. However, what left many of these visitors confounded, despite my various explanations, was why they weren’t allowed to sit on the bentwood chairs. Little kids wanted to “go on them” like a ride.

Rocking chaise, model no. 7500, c. 1880

Attributed to August Thonet; Manufacturer: Gebrüder Thonet

Bent and turned beechwood, caning

The Modernism Collection, Gift of Norwest Bank, Minnesota • 98.276.262

Perhaps it is a particular kind of cruelty to place, for example, the Thonet rocking chaise—an object designed specifically for the surrender of the human body to gravity—off limits. In the Timber! exhibit, it sat regally as a masterpiece of steam-bent beechwood and woven cane, mocking the very idea of a visitor’s tired back. So, in the spirit of unfulfilled desire, to those who endured the torment and woe of the “Do Not Sit On” signs, I offer this poem:

Rocking Chaise

We long to tip the Thonet toward the floor,

to feel the steam-bent beechwood catch our weight.

But chairs are sculptures now, and nothing more.

In Timber! where the grain and finishes soar,

we eye the cane and contemplate our fate.

We long to tip the Thonet toward the floor.

The guard sees all, like a monarch of yore,

a human clock who knows it’s getting late.

But chairs are sculptures now, and nothing more.

That loop of rhythmic spine we could adore,

to rock until we reach a peaceful state.

We long to tip the Thonet toward the floor.

It sits behind a line, smart, well-cared for,

while we, with heavy hearts, must hesitate.

But chairs are sculptures now, and nothing more.

Let’s walk toward the cafe, maybe the store,

leave the chaise to its quiet, static state.

We long to tip the Thonet toward the floor,

but chairs are sculptures now, and nothing more.