This is my mom’s old rocking chair. She rocked all her babies in it. And then, in the 70s, she had it reupholstered with a pattern we disagreed on. But it was her chair. And then she rocked her grand babies and eventually great grand babies in it. It sits in my studio because it’s still a damn comfortable chair. But I still disagree with the pattern.

Here’s an old photo of the original chair with its original inhabitants—my mom and an ever-so-much cuter me.