The black leather sofa is not neutral. It evokes a history of middle-class desire for markers of luxury and permanence, the mass-produced approximation of elite taste. Yet its resonance extends beyond the domestic sphere. The sofa is also a familiar prop of the social underbelly: after-parties, club back rooms, and liminal spaces where intimacy and excess blur. In these contexts, the leather sofa accrues new layers of meaning, worn upholstery, cigarette burns, stains that speak of exhaustion, vulnerability, and fleeting collectivity. In such spaces, the sofa witnesses both the celebratory and the abject, the promise of belonging alongside the inevitability of disintegration. Culver’s act of tipping the sofa onto its side is therefore doubly destabilizing. It denies not only the domestic fantasy of comfort but also the illicit sociality of nightlife. The sofa is caught between these registers, both aspirational and degraded, both private and public. Its undercarriage and seams, made visible by its orientation, expose the artifice of its construction, echoing Arte Povera’s valorization of material rawness while recalling Duchampian strategies of defamiliarization. Placed upright in the gallery, the sofa becomes an accidental monument. It is monumental not through grandeur but through its sheer obstinacy—an object of leisure that refuses to provide leisure, a witness to intimacy that now faces the void of the white cube. In its absurd yet imposing stance, the sofa crystallizes Culver’s ongoing interest in aspiration, and disillusionment. By recontextualizing an object that shuttles between living rooms and after-hours spaces, Culver invites the viewer to confront the unstable cultural codes embedded in everyday things and the precarious desires they represent.