I don’t think there can be any neutral reactions to this picture. Either you immediately are enamored with the uniqueness of the coffee table or you are abhorred at the cruelty displayed towards the animal, without any in-between. Is that correct? For me, though I am certainly not belonging to any animal activist groups, there is a feeling of dread every time I come across this picture. Of course it is not the corpse of a real bear, but I cringe when considering the eternal posture that’s fixed upon its fate for the rest of eternity.
A bear, on its back, always. A bear, as a slave, forced to labor to satisfy our stylish preferences. Every time a sip of coffee is taken, and we place the mug back on its paw, is another moment when we chose not to save the polar bear drowning under a sheet of ice.
Some people say I am much too sensitive; some say these kind of thoughts are the reason why I can not progress because I attempt to read hurt into every interpretation; some say I eat chicken, which is way worse than what is happening in this furniture; and some even say that I am just pretending to support a cause in order to be fashionable.
My psychologist, if I had one, would say that I am actually portraying myself in the role of the bear.
I say that these kind of pictures make you guilty of a crime that cannot be proven, committing cruelty that is not physically real, leaving you languishing in a mental prison of debate as forever as the bear’s plight. These kind of pictures are most difficult to interpret because of the fear of committing to an identity. These kind of pictures are used both as a barrier to heaven’s stairway and hell’s gates, in fact forcing us to stay in-between and reconsider our previous biases and preferences. These pictures are why we live life and breathe irregularly in its philosophy.