Observe, then a new landscape opens

Try describing with precision the last bunch of flowers you received and you will notice how badly you have been looking all this time. Getting people to look more closely at the natural world around them is what I aspire to do. Shaping what is only so half-perceived and slips away in the delusion of the day. In this way, I want to contribute to a sustainable relationship between nature and man. For a healthy earth and for ourselves.

In my mother’s garden….

Poppies are plants that spread immodestly but conspicuously in a garden. They have unsightly leaves that shoot mostly in height. It seems to be more weed than ornamental, and it is not until bud formation that something potentially interesting shows itself.

Just before summer begins, the poppies are not there one day, and the next day I saw them “suddenly” appear year after year in my mother’s garden. As if that one spring rain gives the final push. Whether the sun shone just enough that day that all those poppies collectively thought, “This is the moment. A magical moment. A moment to cherish, for a poppy blooms profusely but very briefly. Powerful is the budding of the flower bursting out of its shell, fragile is the colorful leaf. This flower will not be caught in a vase. All that remains is a desiccated seed bulb with a funny twelve-sided hat on a long barren stem. That bulb gives confidence that we can see another bloom next summer.

My works are registrations of the explorer in me. I record that which perishes. That which I see and fear I forget. As a reminder of my own impermanence. I make my own translations of nature.