A handmade chair with no claim to lineage or fashion.

Have a seat

Abomination or vernacular funkbomb?

No matter how hard I try to suppress him, my inner critic wants to call this the Fishbone Chair.  It’s a stretch; but I get it. And I have no ready alternative. The only other name that comes to mind is “tri-back”. It sounds weak and industrial. Not a good combination. Bleh.

The seat and leg design borrows from Charles Rennie Mackintosh, but in only the vaguest fringes of imitation. After seeing actual Mackintosh chairs at the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore I was inspired to run down a chair-making rabbit hole. I emerged with a couple first attempts. The Fishbone Chair followed, but from a completely different mindset. So maybe a little Mackintosh.

The back, on the other hand, relates to nothing else that I know of. The single stick back can be traced, along the whispiest thread to Lina Bo Bardi’s “Giraffe chair”. I’ve made two sets of those. But the trait is more circumstantial than deliberate.

The whole thing is play, using wood that had no plans and blue velvet that was hanging around waiting to be useful.

Bon took an immediate liking to this chair. This … Fishbone Chair. I handed it over to her for wood burning touches. Her work makes the thing look more intentional, less slapdash. She adopted it as her office chair.

Crowning glory. The lush blue velvet seat made us think of royalty so Bon addeed a crown to the top rail.

The few others on earth who’ve seen it in person reacted positively, to my surprise. It must be the funk factor. My own fondness for it combines sympathy and amusement, kind of how you feel about particularly curious-looking dog. A blatantly blue velvet dog.

It’s greatest value to me is what I learned from making it. It’s a chair that I designed by making it. While I won’t make another, I’ll incorporate elements of it in other builds.