Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the first day of the garden

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the last day of the garden assembled, 2 1/2 months later, before it was dismantled and taken to the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden roots on the plexiglass.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden
Garden

 

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden
Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the first day of the garden

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the last day of the garden assembled, 2 1/2 months later, before it was dismantled and taken to the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden roots on the plexiglass.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a detail of the garden assembled within the gallery.

Garden

 

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

Garden

Plants, Paper, Wood, Metal, Soil

96 1/2"x95"x 132"

2016

 

Photo Credit: Eva Kloiber

 

Garden” is made from seeds and soil gathered from abandoned lots in Seattle. I nurtured the weeds for three months, recording its growth through drawings, paintings, and photos. By planting weeds, I explore the tension between nurture and neglect, in addition to engaging with impermanence and acceptance, fostering botanicals that are normally ignored through daily rituals, and revering them through the daily act of care and observance. As an extension of the home, the garden signifies femininity, in addition to personal and domestic space. The slowness of growth requires a patient and caring stability often overlooked and undervalued.

            

Sheets of paper were buried underneath the soil to create a print of the unseen elements of the garden as it grows.  The print allows the plants to document their own progression. Like the much of history, the plant's document--the primary source--has deteriorated to the point that much is now gone. One is left with pictures, a physical memory documenting its growth through my subjective perspective. The resulting portrait is both of the garden and of the relationship I have developed with it. 

 

This is a garden illustration recorded during it's growth.

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