A memory from when I was working on my foundation in Arts and Design in 1995 – Vicky Silver

I had to write a short essay about an art work and was feeling fairly cynical about finding something that resonated specifically with me as opposed to something I had read about in a book. As my husband and I walked towards the bottom of the hill, I started to think about the chair, trying to get something “other” from what I was seeing. Ok, I thought. I get perspective.

The further up the hill we go, the larger the chair grows. From a tiny doll’s chair to a chair fit for a giant, but to me was still just lumps of wood put together in the shape of a chair. On arrival at the chair, I attempted to relate to the work. I walked around it trying to figure out what the artist’s intentions were. Texture? Large? I don’t know. I looked down over the hill to the expanse of the forest below, but nothing. Disillusioned I leaned against one of the legs, closed my eyes and just let myself enjoy the forest. I was thinking about a giant sitting in the chair and and then. The strangest thing happened. I felt my whole body growing into the size of the chair. Sitting there like a giant (no, I wasn’t on anything). It was scary and only lasted for a few seconds as I shook myself out of it quickly. I told my husband and he laughed. I looked back out over the forest, and saw everything as a giant would view it. The hill was just a small slope, the massive expanse of trees had become reduced as if I were looking at a flower garden. It felt as if I had become at one with the forest.

I still remember that feeling as clear as if it were yesterday. After that, as we continued our walk through the forest, all my senses were heightened. I heard every twig that broke under foot, saw every leaf on the path we trod, experienced every dapple of sunlight through the trees. And the colours, oh the colours.

That was my experience and memory of the the “Giant’s Chair”. I always wondered about the artist’s intentions. If that was how she meant it to be.