One of my favourite pieces of furniture in our home is an antique Mission chair. Jeff received it before we were married from his sister, who received it from his parents, who received it his grandparents, who received it from their good friend Ben, who was a family member of the original craftsman. Because the chair entered the family as a gift from this Ben, it has always been known as “Uncle Ben’s chair”. I love this piece not just because it is beautiful and comfortable, but because it carries a story. My mum-in-law told me today that this chair was built from old oak brought from England- my fond memories of past visits to the English countryside (along with a slight obsession with British historical dramas, Jane Austen, and just about everyone related to the Queen) makes me love this chair even more.
One of the chair’s more visible stories is one told through textile. It seems that each time it passed to another member of Jeff’s family, the seat was recovered- sometimes, more than once. For a long time, I have had fabric waiting to add our layer on top of pink chintz, beige jacquard, orange fuzz and who knows what else. A breather from school and other work this weekend finally presented a chance to tackle this project. After an hour of fussing about with staples and corner folds, it was all done.
My fabric choice is not traditional and certainly will not be to everyone’s liking. However, for our chapter in this story, it feels just right.