I want to carry this yellow and green gingham upholstery in my visual memory long after the couch it covered is gone.
The previous owners of my home lived here for 50 years until they were in their 90s. After they died, the house was on the market for two years and was still full of their 1970s furniture. When we offered to buy the house along with everything in it, the family, who were all in their 70s and didn’t want the stuff, said ‘sold!’. We had a big yard sale but kept a few pieces, including this herculon couch that was the center piece of the sitting area in the attic that had been converted to a sewing room – green shag carpet, wood paneling and all.
During lockdown, we cleared out a spare bedroom and turned it into an office for my husband. We brought the couch down from the attic and into the light of day. Even though it looked to be in mint condition, the fabric was brittle and pretty much started to disintegrate as soon as we started using it.
Fast forward four years, and with lots of sunshine by a window and many naps later (dog and human), the time had come to lay it to rest.
Usually when we put stuff out on the street it gets picked up right away, but after two days, here it still sits. It’s as though it’s trying to tell us something.
Studio life this week has been cleaning up the post-show clutter (it’s like a tornado came through!) and slowly turning my attention bit by bit to what’s next.
For now, though, I’m hauling furniture that’s had its day, tidying up, letting go, moving on.
