Current Exhibitions

At the Museum of Everyday Life in Glover Vermont:

June 2025 – Present 

Stains conjure all kinds of associations. Initially we tend to think of them as accidental and sometimes disgusting – evidence at a crime scene, the residue of shameful excess, or the result of comic mishap. But some stains are intentional – think of the carefully applied stain that brings out the grain of fine wood, or the bright intricate patterns on batik and tie-dye textiles, or the glory of a stained glass window in sunlight.   This year, we will look at all things stain-related, everything from the Shroud of Turin to the grass stains on worn out jeans that evoke the final days of summer from childhood long past. In a time when the unimaginable seems to happen every day at a breakneck pace, stains teach us about what can and cannot be erased, invite us to contemplate smears and smudges and disfiguring blights, and ask ourselves at what point does a stain obliterate a surface and wholly transform an object? Where does the object stop and the stain begin?

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At ArtYard in Frenchtown, New Jersey:

October 18th 2025 – February 4th 2026

The creation and evolution of the chair springs from two distinct human desires: to rest while remaining upright and to elevate oneself off the ground. That act of elevation, of resting higher up, means that the story of the chair is in part a story about power. The earliest attempts to sit off the ground involved rocks – remains of Neolithic villages show evidence of people using flat, rounded stones as seats. In ancient Egypt, early stools evolved into the first known chairs. Even then, chairs were for kings and nobility; common people remained on the ground or on simpler, lower stools. In ancient Greece and Rome lowly plebeians sat in simple chairs, but the more elevated and the more ornate the chair, the more powerful the Greek or Roman sitter. Power also manifested in the creation of chairs for torture and punishment in Medieval Europe; their descendent endures in the electric chair. Modern colloquialisms reflect the continued marriage of chairs and privilege: to “chair” a meeting means running it; if you are the “chairman” of an organization, you are the boss.

But chairs also comfort and minister to the human body. There is something merciful in the way that chairs respond so clearly to human exhaustion and the need for repose. Mothers soothe babies in rocking chairs; workers sink into armchairs or recliners at the end of a long day. Inevitably, chairs become associated with those who sit in them. We see the contours of a loved one’s body echoed in the gentle depressions in a chair’s seat cushions and arm rests. Empty chairs conjure memories of people who are no longer present, with a poignancy that few other pieces of furniture can match. Chairs also signify belonging- the proverbial “seat at the table.” Surrendering a seat or offering a chair can be a strong sign of respect or a signal of inclusion. Removing a seat does the opposite; remember the harsh process of elimination in a game of musical chairs.

In the midst of life’s hamster wheel of obligations, chores, and frantic entertainments, chairs offer stillness. They provide a refuge from activity, a pause. This means they also can signal the stagnation or complacency of those who are too comfortable, as in Rimbaud’s poem “The Sitters”. Yet wheelchairs do the opposite, restoring motion and freedom to those unable to walk but yearning for mobility.

Perhaps the multiplicity of meanings inherent in a chair is what has generated the stunning variations in chair design over millennia. Simple or elegant, rough-hewn or gilded, chairs uphold us in our moments of vulnerability and power, work and recreation. Thus the Museum of Everyday Life celebrates the chair, mundane companion answering to the best and the worst of our impulses, stalwart supporter in moments of need.

Click HERE for Photos