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B. N. Goswamy on the symbolism of the chair in art and literature
Chairs: one does not ordinarily give the subject much thought, but Arthur Danto, Professor of Philosophy at the Columbia University, once wrote a long, thoughtful article on them, filled with wit and perception. He began on a light, almost flippant, note, speaking of the manner in which his own, almost illegible, signatures have appeared for years over the word ‘Chair’ — the accepted American usage for ‘Chairperson’ — on official stationery, but then moved quickly beyond the area of academic chairs, and on to graver matters. To the word cathedra, which in Latin means chair, and therefore leads one towards ex cathedra pronouncements, and cathedrals, with their air of authority, "majestic, soaring, standing against the sky like a filigreed exclamation point". From these, on to other chairs: regal thrones, the judicial bench, the congressional seat, and the like. And, further, to the sitting position, in philosophy designated as "the seat of the soul, or of intelligence, or of wisdom or reason". Authority, domination, autonomy, and power, he says, is what come ultimately to mind when one thinks of chairs. In his words, "the chair is something more than where we place out bottoms." In India, almost everyone knows this well, for the chair, as kursi, is part of everyone’s awareness. It enters our daily parlance, carrying the aura sometimes of awe, sometimes of derision. Kursi ko salaam; qissa kursi ka: these have turned almost into proverbs. But, to go back to Danto’s engaging essay. His aim is to focus on the chair in artistic representation: the chair in art, as different from the chair as art. The latter is an area of design, and there one moves into a different world, that of function and commerce. What interests him is the manner in which, in art, statements are made, symbols created, and meanings established around the chair. He picks three chairs to talk about, and each of them has a different quality, a distinctive air. First, an early representation of a ‘chair’ — we would have designated it as a simhasana — in a carving from the Buddhist stupa of Amaravati, going back to around the first century. Here, in this magnificent piece, a chair, placed below a tree, is flanked by a group of alluring maidens, their bodies lush, their gestures inviting, while in the background can be seen riders on elephants and other figures. The scene one knows well: it is a temptation scene, the god Mara sending his daughters and their companions to distract the Buddha, as he sits in meditation, from his resolve by seducing him. But one does not see the person of the Buddha, only an empty seat with a cushion on it, symbolising his presence. Danto does not read details in this carving, and the suggestions it contains, accurately, but he is deeply moved by it, declaring that here "the sculptor overtakes the poet". "I know of no more powerful representation of transcendence than the empty throne in the great relief of Amaravati", he says, and continues: "It bears comparison in religious power to the staggering Resurrection of Piero della Francesca in Borgo Sansepolcro, in my view the greatest painting of Christendom." The second chair that Danto speaks of is also empty: the rustic chair in yellow that Vincent van Gogh painted in 1888. It is one of the best known among the works of that errant and troubled man: a lonely, unoccupied piece of furniture with only the painter’s familiar pipe resting on it. There is much to see in the painting: "the celadon and turquoise of wall and door, the red and green of the tiled floor, the yellow with blue aura around the legs"; but also, as Danto points out, something about the painter, a man of "conspicuous humility", who identifies himself with simplicity and want. One might be reading too much in the work when one says this, but there is no escaping the fact that at this very time, Van Gogh had painted another chair — that belonging to Gauguin who was visiting him then — also unoccupied but far more elaborate, full of an air of authority, or arrogance, that was not his own. Danto refers to Van Gogh’s painting of his own simple perch as "Self-portrait as Chair". And then there is the "final" chair that he draws attention to: the electric chair that the pop artist Andy Warhol used in 1967 in different formats. Macabre and rich with associations as the object is, capital punishment/execution being its function, Danto sees in it an ‘obscene’ and ‘terrifying’ image, brought in as an indictment of the system. But, significantly for him, it is a chair, not a flat bed or electric noose, that the penologists thought of. One can see that the meanings of that piece of furniture keep changing: from transcendence to humility to barbaric cruelty. Who would have thought that when one started speaking of chairs? |
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