Might one approach the too-vast sublime through looking at the specifics of landscape up-close? And might studying a small plot of land help us to see the splendor of the greater world more clearly?
Instead of focusing on grand vistas and majestic skyscapes, I have turned my gaze down towards the earth, drawn to mundane scenes of decay and regeneration. There are no fast approaching storms here, no dazzling sunsets, and yet these spaces are neither uneventful nor unremarkable: rather, they mark the day-to-day erosion and regeneration of matter bound by time, the “sublime” they express is one tempered by the abject.
The organic forms embody the cyclic process of life, capturing the transition from a state of growth to one of dissolution and then, once again, regeneration. I find their dis-order to be filled with movement, pattern, and grace. First, I photograph the plants, creating “panoramic” views of the northeastern forest floors. Later, working from the photographs in my studio, I draw the organic systems, exploring the tensions between pattern and complexity, beauty and chaos.
Instead of focusing on grand vistas and majestic skyscapes, I have turned my gaze down towards the earth, drawn to mundane scenes of decay and regeneration. There are no fast approaching storms here, no dazzling sunsets, and yet these spaces are neither uneventful nor unremarkable: rather, they mark the day-to-day erosion and regeneration of matter bound by time, the “sublime” they express is one tempered by the abject.
The organic forms embody the cyclic process of life, capturing the transition from a state of growth to one of dissolution and then, once again, regeneration. I find their dis-order to be filled with movement, pattern, and grace. First, I photograph the plants, creating “panoramic” views of the northeastern forest floors. Later, working from the photographs in my studio, I draw the organic systems, exploring the tensions between pattern and complexity, beauty and chaos.
