"Prunings"

2020-21

During Covid, we learned about supply-chain, specifically that the chain was broken. By many accounts, we were told we could lose access to fresh food. I panicked at the thought of losing the staple of my diet: vegetables. When I realized I could fight back, take control of my food, it was a revelation. I bought seeds and set about growing my favorite lettuce, tomatoes and herbs. Growing plants—growing anything—was new for me, but so was being homebound. As I prepared the soil and buried the seeds, I remembered that as a child I loved playing with dirt, getting my hands dirty. This would be an experiment and an adventure. And if all that failed, at least it would be something to do. 

At the time, I didn’t know that doctors were prescribing gardening to help fight anxiety and depression. The Rx wasn’t simply about the healing effects of nurturing something. Turns out a beneficial bacteria called Mycobacterium vaccae in soil helps promote the production of serotonin, which relieves depression. I’m not sure if it was the naturally occurring anti-depressant or the thrill of seeing the new growth from seedlings every morning (when, in contrast, everything else in my locked-down life remained the same), but it worked. I was able to grow food! I cared for those tender greens, watering and pruning dead leaves and bird-pecked tomatoes. In my own little way, I was self-sufficient. 

In my “Prunings” series, I isolate the leaves and petals from the plants, laying them flat in order to enhance their essence. At first, I photographed them with natural light on white paper discovering patterns drawn with calligraphic lines created by long leaves and stems, reminiscent of Victorian wallpaper and embroidery. Later, I added colored paper backgrounds and a strobe light, which created shadows that emphasized the dimension and vitality of the organic materials. Each photograph is a witnesses to the ephemeral harvest that sustained me. I continued this series on a regular basis for the course of ten months until I moved to New York City, where sadly I have no outdoor space for a garden. That said, I’m eyeing a few new window boxes for the spring. 

Sizes Available 

24 x 30 in., archival inkjet prints, edition of 5 with 2 Artist Proofs 

16 x 20 in., archival inkjet prints, edition of 8 with 1 Artist Proof

Above: Prunings No. 5, 24 in x 30 in archival inkjet print, with border