Armchair (part of a set) 1749 - 1761

Editor: Here we have an armchair, made sometime between 1749 and 1761 by Nicolas-Quinibert Foliot. The materials include wood and textile. It’s so ornate, almost excessively so, with its curving lines and detailed floral patterns. I'm struck by the contrast between its rigid structure and the softness of the textile. What's your take on it? Curator: It's the essence of Rococo, isn't it? Like a confectionery dream sculpted in wood. Look closer – those aren’t just floral patterns, they're allegories, whispers of courtly love and pastoral idylls. This chair wasn't just for sitting; it was a statement. Imagine a powdered wig perched delicately upon it, the rustle of silk gowns, the murmur of gossip and intrigue. I think, really, it is more performance prop than support for the posterior. What do you make of the scale? Editor: It does seem more theatrical than functional! I guess I assumed it was meant to be comfortable, but now I'm reconsidering that. Curator: Comfort was secondary. This was about projecting status, elegance, control of line and form. The slight asymmetry, the flowing curves – it's a rejection of the rigid formality of the preceding era. It’s visual poetry written in wood and textile. Editor: So, it's not just decoration; it’s communication. A whole story told in curves and flowers. That's fascinating. I never thought about furniture being so expressive before. Curator: Precisely! Each element—the wood, the textile, the form—converges into a holistic sensory statement, like music taking physical form. It challenges our notions about functionality versus art; this chair dares you to think deeply about art's everyday pervasiveness. Editor: I’ll definitely look at furniture differently now. It’s like uncovering a secret language hidden in plain sight. Thanks!