It would make a wonderful naughty chair. It’s huge and wide-seated and
made of barbed wire. And I would love to see my most hated teacher from
school sit down on it as a punishment. She was a boho who skimmed
down corridors leaving long colourful delicate scarves floating in her
wake. And yet, she would have had us “ooh” and “aaah” at the chair as a
great invention. With her, we had to worship the twentieth century.

“Well, worship that, Teach!”

I can see the big red “O” of her mouth in a huge howl of pain as big as
the chair. I step back and admire the woman I’ve compelled to sit on a seat
with painted metal spikes that stick into her pale pasty flesh.

That’s Art for you.

Ignoring her pleas to be let off the chair and the small first trickles of
blood beginning to run down the huge grey wire wheels of its legs.

I have no pity for her.

But, she makes a wonderful exhibit.

I arrange for the gallery staff to tie her into the chair overnight and
walk away.

Inspired by razor wire chair, Subversive Design exhibition

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