Why Furniture?

There is a reason why I chose furniture and it is this. I search for the fantastic within the mundane. It is the terrifying disturbance of the transcendent bursting into the everyday. Life is not the orient express to nirvana nor the motorcycle high speed chace but the smoky bus to dereliction. The bus stop wait in rain as archangel wings flutter. It is the hitched lift in dirty lofty cab. The driver picks you up, he is the messiah. Philip K Dick wrote great books in the trashy sci fi genre, Mark E Smith made art in a rock n roll band. The dirt under the fingernails is powdered gold. The alchemy of the banality of wood, the silent sculpture of the living room, the mute art of the chair. Where it goes wrong is when this understated numinous beauty is discarded in favour of making a throne. God lies in the gutter, not in the stars.