My love of chairs

One of the clearest childhood memories I have is watching my Babaji (my grandfather) sit in his backyard after he bathed. His long silver hair floating as it dried in the wind, the only time I saw it outside of his turban. He always sat on one of those white plastic chairs that every immigrant grew up with. He passed away when I was only 8 years old, but this visual of him remains so clear in my head, even after all of these years without him here.

I didn’t make the conscious connection between my love of photographing people seated on chairs until recently. I’ve spent years building my collection of stools, crates, chairs, loungers, boxes, and anything else someone can comfortably sit on while being photographed.

I was gifted my first “photoshoot” stool after a shoot in 2017/2018. It had a coat of black paint that covered the original green. It was chipped, very used, and clearly had seen a lot of butts. It was honestly the perfect stool. Right height, for the subject, and also for my eye level. I used it for years. It slowly wore down on me and sadly I had to retire it to make sure folks sat securely in their photos. Over the years, I started to introduce simple boxes I bought at the art store (before I could afford real apple boxes), found used stools, bought chairs from moving sales, and finally replaced the original portrait stool with a new one.

I love seeing how a chair or stool or a box compliments a backdrop and gives the perfect position for someone to confidently sit for a photo. There’s something so special about a perfect chair/backdrop combo. I think as artists, we do a lot of things unconsciously. Things that were passed down to us from our ancestors show themselves in how we see the world around us, how we create, and what we focus on. I don’t think my Babaji thought to himself that his granddaughter would think of him every time she designed a new backdrop and chair combo, but it found its way into my process, before I even could name it.

The chair represents that rare moment of rest, that time once a week that his hair felt the wind, the moments of gathering, of comfort, the moments to breathe. I don’t take for granted the energy it takes so many folks to sit in front of a camera. I’m honored every time someone feels like they can trust me in this space. Every image we create together leaves me with that same feeling the visual of my Babaji does, I feel an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and grounding.

What is something you hold close to your creative practice that was passed down to you?