A ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE. A CHAIR IS A CHAIR IS A CHAIR?

Gertrude Stein once wrote, “A rose is a rose is a rose.”

At first glance, it feels obvious.

But like most things in life and literature, it’s anything but.

She wasn’t talking about flowers.

She was talking about identity.

About essence.

And not the essence of a rose.

The idea that

a thing

is

what it

is.

That when we say rose, the word itself holds the full weight of meaning.

No symbolism.

No poetic bla bla bla.

Just rose.

And then we started counting petals, and asked ourselves... If a rose is a rose is a rose, is a chair just a chair?

When you see a chair, do you simply want to sit?

Or do you throw your not-quite-clean,

not-quite-dirty clothes on it?

Because when you really think about it, a chair lives.

We often perceive it as an object made to serve us.

But what if it’s more than that?

Sometimes, a chair isn’t just a chair.

It’s the quiet continuation of your body.

A soft landing.

A sculptural pause.

A presence in the room that says,

“This is who I am.”

And maybe,

“This is who you are, too.”

So yes, maybe a rose is a rose is a rose.

But a chair?

We’re not so sure.

COLLECTIONAL

ROSES CATALOGUE SELECTION

SORRY, CHAIRS

By Fadi Dibs