“Dad, what is the definition of lazy?”
“Me” he said, while reclining in his chair, the game on tv.
A Lazy Love explores the relationship between labor and rest, love and loss.
In a consumer culture of constant production and work, inevitably comes the question, “What’s next?”
Honestly, I just want to sit. I want to rest.
After a long day’s work, I like to treat myself to a free 90-minute massage at Nebraska Furniture Mart, “America’s Largest Home Furnishings Store.” While vibrating in a massage chair for sale next to pregnant women and construction workers, single dads and 83-year-olds, I let the voices of couples shopping for La-Z-Boy recliners drift me back into the middle class. I call this Lazy Boy Poetry.
Oh my word this feels so nice. My back is in heaven. I don’t want to lose you. Sit in it with me.
As the dialogue of couples searching for the perfect chair washes over me, I contemplate my own love life from afar. In my relaxed position, I start to see each La-Z-Boy recliner as a literal lazy boy. Like a dating app, chair after chair is for sale, screaming try me, feel me, buy me. Swipe left, swipe right. What’s next?
What am I looking for? What makes a good chair? The most compatible partner? Do I have a type? Am I too comfortable? Is this the one?
PLAINS ART MUSEUM, FARGO, ND
Woven into the fabric of each La-Z-Boy recliner, I render the faces of past relationships. Through drawing, as a type of meditation and reflection, these delicate graphite drawings reveal an intimacy through time. The empty chair references the loss of what was, while simultaneously embodying a former lover and/or friend. The chair becomes a container for past conversations and connections. Similar to how memory fades, I intentionally leave each drawing “unfinished” to reflect upon an incomplete or lazy love.
Love is sad, at least at the end.
Graphite drawings, 11” x 14”
Father, 2023, photograph printed on mirrored metal
During the pandemic lockdown, I used our government stipend to purchase my own massage chair to use from home. This chair became a temporary substitute for human touch. In the video, A Massage Chair Without a Body, the machine is programmed to vibrate, mechanically inhaling and exhaling unaware of its lack of a body to embrace. Koi fish swim in and out of the scene, revealing a feeling of longing for love and friendship, as the leather chair morphs into the skin of my grandmother’s chest searching for breath on her deathbed.
Excerpt from A Massage Chair Without A Body (Full Video 11:51 min)
Massage Chair Drawings, 2023, pastel, 11” x 14”
Left hand, Two Fingers, Two Thumbs, I sit in the chair and receive a massage. With my fingers dusted in pastel, in turn I massage the paper, letting the chair dictate the drawing.
My Lazy Boy is Pink, Silkscreen & spray paint, 20” x 30”