The Red Chair is one of my favorite drawings made of charcoal and pastels. I consider it a classic from my personal portfolio mostly due to the basic elements that it possesses:  a shapely woman clothed in a suggestive costume angled effortlessly atop a well-structured chair. The indelible combination of the model’s exotic looks, her posture, and the presence of the red club chair make for a perfect invitation to draw something, and interpret something altogether timeless.

Though it is not always the case, multiple scenarios and unanswered questions come to mind with this particular drawing. Who is this seated woman with her shorn dark bob, and leg hanging astride a nostalgic red chair?  Is this a leather chair one might see in a bar, or an office, or a forgotten artist’s loft? Can this woman be waiting for someone: a john, a job, or just a break?  Or is she cooling off after a long interlude on her feet in those heels, at a club, where before this moment the chair had been empty, perhaps behind some curtains.  Is she a kind of cabaret singer, with her dress hanging out of sight, or in fact, is this the attire for her act as she sits contemplating a routine before she is roused to perform. Could she be waiting, listening for the sound of applause, a kind of encore and the promise of more work, extra tips, or an invitation for a late night drink?

Maybe she is just resting between acts and is lost in a personal reverie.

I try not to judge the drawing, but to look at it fresh as objectively as I can. Months after execution, I remain intrigued by the drawing’s moodiness, the complexity of shapes, and the subtlety of color. Like the day of the pose and the moments of study, I am still seduced by the conflagration of elements that inspired me to draw The Red Chair.