The Couch

 

16x12 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper with watercolour wash (Click on image to enlarge)

The couch, like my mind, is a seat for many encounters; conversations, debates, drama, lazy afternoon siestas, teasing, loving, hating, staining, excitement, boredom, rejection and seduction.  The couch touches strangers and loved ones with the same intimate caress. It is a symbol of privilege and comfort. It is the halt between the entrance door and the bed. It is private and not so private at the same time. It allows us to just exist without being productive, becoming a couch potato. It also is the seat of power and power games as in the casting couch. But beyond all this, the couch is a receptacle for idle thoughts, day dreams, pleasure, pampering, relaxation, entertainment, eroticism, pain and sorrow. Couches are soft with memories without the lumps of judgement. They are cushioned for the depressed, plush with first kisses and frayed with troubled tears.  The couch takes the place of lost comforting embraces and companionship in solitary existence.