"The Guardian" presents itself as an ordinary rusted chair, a relic of time, weathered and unassuming. Yet, as one draws closer, it reveals its unexpected presence : the quiet, rhythmic sound of snoring emanates from its structure.
The juxtaposition between the lifeless object and the human sound evokes a surreal narrative, where the chair transcends its role as mere furniture and becomes a sentient entity, a keeper of space.

The rusted surface, marked by age and decay, carries the weight of history, silently watching over the emptiness surrounding it. Its imperfections tell a story of resilience, of standing still as time and elements pass over it. The addition of sound infuses this relic with life, humor, and an uncanny sense of irony. Is this chair asleep on the job, or is its slumber a symbolic act of vigilance ?

The Guardian suggests a duality : a protector who is seemingly inattentive, yet whose quiet presence is deeply felt. It invites viewers to question their assumptions about functionality and life, imbuing the mundane with a layer of mystery and personality.

The work is a reflection on idleness and purpose, on the tension between inaction and the watchful state. Yet, It also comments on the absurdity of assigning human traits to inanimated objects, a playful nod to surrealism.

Mixed Media : Metal chair, electronics, batteries.
The structure of the chair acts as a speaker, batteries last 24 hours, all the electronics are hidden in the legs of the chair.