Thin and crooked, the legs of this chair reach upwards. Without a size comparison, one might think of a high seat made of thorny branches in the illustration. The large thorns invite one to climb the high seat, while at the same time warning against doing so. For the long, narrow legs – which resemble Dalí’s elephant legs (e.g., in ‘The Temptation of Saint Anthony,’ 1946) – the artist used branches of black locust as models, and for the seat, blackberry branches.
The examination of the actual sculpture and its spatial context shows that the chair, with its fragile and prickly construction, despite its height of 97 cm, was never intended for sitting due to the missing and far too small seat surface. Elevated on a pedestal, the chair addresses the human aspiration to sit at the very top and have an overview. Perhaps it also reflects the desire to sit higher than others and to reign over them from above. The legs express the arduous ascents on the career ladder. The small seat, in turn, may sing a song about how uncomfortable and lonely it can be up there, and that the coveted place at the height may look secure, but in the long run is not sustainable.
Standing on the pedestal, the chair construction takes on the elevation of a throne as a symbolic seat of power, of wise and just governance, yet it fails to radiate any stability or trust. Unlike a strong, artistic, and dignified throne, which also conveys a heavenly legitimacy, this high seat appears very human, self-made, shabby, and even reckless.
But precisely in this, it serves as a strong reminder not to aim too high or to rise above others. Pride, as is well known, comes before a fall. The chair sculpture reminds us that a person is at their greatest and wisest where they act humbly and do not isolate themselves, but live among others in service to their fellow humans and the environment. – It is for others or for another to praise us or to ‘elevate’ us.
Patrik Scherrer, bildimpuls.de
Throne 2014 is part of growing sculptures
GERHARD KUBASSA 