Memory Furniture

An early, deeply-rooted memory exists of laying on the carpeted floor of my grandmother’s apartment in Chinatown, observing the pebbled texture of the ceiling and the loveseat with the sheepskin and the corner sofa with the floral skirt, on the 27th floor of the brick tower that stands at the foot of the Manhattan Bridge in New York. It was in this apartment that a reverence for objects was cultivated, while peering into her china cabinet with the smell of time and dust—each piece and their story carefully told, silhouettes of figurines, great-grandfather’s general store. The power of objects revealed while perched on tip toes on the seat of her upholstered dining chair.

Years later, I felt the nudge to rediscover the items I lived with, when I lived with her; to reinterpret the pieces I was familiar with and loved, in my own creation. I would pitch this project to my college professor, to which he would reply, “well how will that change the world?” In hindsight, I should have retaliated. Instead, I left it and waited. But year over year, the idea continued to gestate.

One might call this project a work in progress, under development, yet to become. But under the surface, pieces are forming—and here is a place to hold that vision.