The Chair by the Window

A familiar kitchen chair becomes a painting about memory, wear, and the things that make a home.

A fictional art journal story inspired by everyday moments. Gallery imagery is illustrative.

For years, my mother kept a wooden chair beside the kitchen window. Nobody sat on it much. It held folded clothes, grocery bags, and sometimes a cup of tea she had forgotten to finish.

When I started painting it, I thought the light was what interested me. Every afternoon, the sun moved across the seat and caught the scratches in the wood.

Halfway through, I noticed I had painted the chair too neatly. I had straightened its uneven legs and softened the stain near the backrest. I was making it look new.

So I went back and put the wear in.

Those marks were the reason I remembered it. The painting only began to feel like home when I stopped trying to improve the chair.

Is there an ordinary object in your home you would recognise anywhere?