It started with a single cushion propped up against a tree at the side of the world. Like a herald signaling that something was approaching from a short distance.
So over the last few days I've had another birthday woosh by. But the universe is kind and during this time I have also stumbled over a parade of abandoned couches.
And you, my regular visitors, know how much I love the beautiful ennui of the abandoned couch.
The first one I spotted was on state highway one in Foxton (the foxy town). I almost kept driving but in the end I backtracked to snap off a few shots.
While I was busy clicking off shots this the owner of the house came out - a large woman in her dressing gown - and I asked me what I was doing. To be honest it was a difficult to explain. I just feel compelled to capture them on film. Like the lifespan of the mayfly or the blossoming of the mighty rotting corpse lily the existence of the abandoned couch is fleeting.
I have discovered that if I don't photograph them the minute I see them they will be gone. I might think to myself "I'll take the picture on my way back" but by the time I return the couch will always have vanished. Having mysteriously moved on to the haberdashery graveyard.
The next couch I spotted was in Auckland, hidden down a road I very rather travel. Across the street from the house of a woman I once kissed and then never kissed again.
Finally the last couch appeared outside the church hall in Kingsland where they have the Craftbomb fairs.
There was a pretty spectacular FREE sign on this one.
As J. Alfred Prufrock measured his life in coffee spoons maybe I am measuring my life in abandoned furniture. Which begs the question - am I documenting them or are they documenting me?