Fobika!
01/10/04, 09:38 PM
SOLITARYISM
I first constructed the chairs as a project to better my living
arrangements. By manufacturing my own furniture from my own sweat and
labor, I was able to embellish my humble abode with a personal sense
of elegance. With wood that I cut from timber in the forest behind my
cabin, I carved out the necessary parts for my chairs. Among my tools,
I owned a mildly heavy, black chisel. The chisel was a composition of
different types of metals, in order to give it strength and durability.
I never used a hatchet or an axe due to the nature of their imprecise cuts.
With my chisel I could sculpt wood how ever I wanted it to be. I was the
artist with an expertise in carpentry.
I designed each chair to have eighteen inch legs with a seat plate of
fourteen inches by fourteen inches by two inches. The back part was one
continuous branch that bends at the top to connect the left and right
backside of the seat plate. I attached three supporting posts that joined
the inner part of the ringed branch post to the seat plate. Everything
was bonded together by glue and little wooden pegs that lock into small
holes. All the furniture I ever made was assembled using the peg method,
but with pegs that would be of proportional size in conjunction with the
size of the piece of furniture. I deemed it to be quite sturdy and stable.
Soon, there emerged a realization from making my chairs. I could make as
many of them as I wanted, but I would most definitely never have an
adequate number of individuals to occupy them.
I was never able to determine how else to pass my time. So I continued
crafting and designing my chairs. I made hundreds of them. I used
different types of wood from the trees in the forests. I consummated them
with different shades of finish. I ingrained elaborate patterns into the
legs and backing posts. Not one chair was exactly like the other. Each one
was ultimately unique in its complexion.
Space for chairs was quickly exhausted. With substantial amounts of them
stacked up in piles in my cabin, I was desperate to find a location to
accommodate my masterwork. Leaving the chairs outside seemed like the only
answer, but I feared the destructive personality of weather. The elements
alone were a constant worry for me. If I wasn't outdoors cutting down my
trees or putting together the pieces for my chairs, I was huddled inside
planning possible chair designs or detailing and shaping separate sections
of them.
Anger stinged me when I could not find an appropriate home for them.
And I went mad. If I could not have my chairs, no one would. So I gathered
all of them, except one, into a large mass of art piled inside my cabin.
As apart of my solution, I obtained my can of gasoline and flooded the
mountain with it. And the matches flourished indeed. Taking some rope,
I stood on the last chair and hurled it up and over the rafters in the
shadows of the now dancing flames. I tied the rope stiffly around my
neck and kicked over the chair. As I dangled, I felt the heat of the flames
tickle the bottoms of my feet.
I first constructed the chairs as a project to better my living
arrangements. By manufacturing my own furniture from my own sweat and
labor, I was able to embellish my humble abode with a personal sense
of elegance. With wood that I cut from timber in the forest behind my
cabin, I carved out the necessary parts for my chairs. Among my tools,
I owned a mildly heavy, black chisel. The chisel was a composition of
different types of metals, in order to give it strength and durability.
I never used a hatchet or an axe due to the nature of their imprecise cuts.
With my chisel I could sculpt wood how ever I wanted it to be. I was the
artist with an expertise in carpentry.
I designed each chair to have eighteen inch legs with a seat plate of
fourteen inches by fourteen inches by two inches. The back part was one
continuous branch that bends at the top to connect the left and right
backside of the seat plate. I attached three supporting posts that joined
the inner part of the ringed branch post to the seat plate. Everything
was bonded together by glue and little wooden pegs that lock into small
holes. All the furniture I ever made was assembled using the peg method,
but with pegs that would be of proportional size in conjunction with the
size of the piece of furniture. I deemed it to be quite sturdy and stable.
Soon, there emerged a realization from making my chairs. I could make as
many of them as I wanted, but I would most definitely never have an
adequate number of individuals to occupy them.
I was never able to determine how else to pass my time. So I continued
crafting and designing my chairs. I made hundreds of them. I used
different types of wood from the trees in the forests. I consummated them
with different shades of finish. I ingrained elaborate patterns into the
legs and backing posts. Not one chair was exactly like the other. Each one
was ultimately unique in its complexion.
Space for chairs was quickly exhausted. With substantial amounts of them
stacked up in piles in my cabin, I was desperate to find a location to
accommodate my masterwork. Leaving the chairs outside seemed like the only
answer, but I feared the destructive personality of weather. The elements
alone were a constant worry for me. If I wasn't outdoors cutting down my
trees or putting together the pieces for my chairs, I was huddled inside
planning possible chair designs or detailing and shaping separate sections
of them.
Anger stinged me when I could not find an appropriate home for them.
And I went mad. If I could not have my chairs, no one would. So I gathered
all of them, except one, into a large mass of art piled inside my cabin.
As apart of my solution, I obtained my can of gasoline and flooded the
mountain with it. And the matches flourished indeed. Taking some rope,
I stood on the last chair and hurled it up and over the rafters in the
shadows of the now dancing flames. I tied the rope stiffly around my
neck and kicked over the chair. As I dangled, I felt the heat of the flames
tickle the bottoms of my feet.