When I was growing up, my family had this orange leather chair in our living room. I remember spending many a morning squished into it with my older brother watching cartoons or even holding my baby brother and feeding him a bottle for the first time. I never knew the connection one could have to a piece of furniture until a few years ago when the beloved orange chair finally ripped at its seams. I was profoundly affected by this, and wanted to memorialize the chair in a special way. I took this portrait, entitled Where Orange Chairs Go to Die, in the middle of my childhood street before the chair was to be sent to the curb. This photo displayed in a Washington, D.C. museum for a short period of time. I know my cherished chair got the memorial it deserved.