Selections from a series of abandoned couches and chairs in one neighborhood of Hollywood, since 2002.
Dragged out and dumped on the street, discarded couches and chairs are ubiquitous urban outcasts, threadbare but imbued with the imprints of a life left behind, or, in their case, a behind that left.
Outside, in the curbed refrain of a last hoorah, they sit out their final chapter. Couched in meaning, some embody the alienation and dashed dreams of a Hollywood quest, while others abide with an unflagging sense of potential.
Most are older, ragged and unseamly, while a few are perfectly fine, just past their prime but now irrelevant. Some uphold fraying dignity weathering the elements; others are exposed and pillaged. Often one will draw others and create spontaneous community for a little while. Every so often one is rescued, recovered, and will be cherished once again. A few find their match when nobody would have guessed it possible any longer. Most remain alone. One day they’re gone.