here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
- ee cummings
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendered is the flour;
Thanne longen folk to goon pilgrimages
And specially from every shires ende
OF Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blissful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they they were seeke.
- Geoffrey Chaucer
Photographs capture a chosen moment, made precious and suspended forever. In this body of work I have used the reflected light of a flat-bed scanner on compositions of natural materials. Many of these images stand alone as botanical curiosities. In some instances, they have been layered digitally, multiplied, manipulated and combine with photographs to emphasize the fragile essence of their beauty. Some retain their original forms, while others have been transformed into delicate wispy remnants and rich tapestries of color and texture.
Photographs capture a chosen moment, made precious and suspended forever. In this body of work I have used the reflected light of a flat-bed scanner on compositions of natural materials. Many of these images stand alone as botanical curiosities. In some instances, they have been layered digitally, multiplied, manipulated and combine with photographs to emphasize the fragile essence of their beauty. Some retain their original forms, while others have been transformed into delicate wispy remnants and rich tapestries of color and texture.
Photographs capture a chosen moment, made precious and suspended forever. In this body of work I have used the reflected light of a flat-bed scanner on compositions of natural materials. Many of these images stand alone as botanical curiosities. In some instances, they have been layered digitally, multiplied, manipulated and combine with photographs to emphasize the fragile essence of their beauty. Some retain their original forms, while others have been transformed into delicate wispy remnants and rich tapestries of color and texture.
As a child, I spent many hours at the Museum of Natural History in New York, fascinated by the frozen and slightly creepy worlds preserved in dioramas. Now I can more consciously appreciate the creators' urge to seal their idealized views of nature in a timeless space. As a photographer I have the power to do the same magic, capturing a chosen moment and suspending it forever.
This series of photographs of dioramas is of anachronisms, errors in chronology, in which the past and present, real and artificial, living and dead, are intertwined. The veracity of color photography at first confuses the eye and ultimately exaggerates the contradictions.
