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Digital Photograph, 24 × 16 inches, 2021
I remember one post-Valentine's day my mother looking at her dying roses and saying it was time for them to go - before she could make good on this though, I asked if I could keep them and watch them fade. I did this for the photographs of course - but also for the fascination of it all. Watching a rose crumple and dry, each day it shrinking back into itself to then become apart of the Earth once more, to then grow anew the next season - it was like a poem in motion. One without words, slow, not in any way forced. Truthfully, such a beautiful sight.
Digital Photograph, 24 × 16 inches, 2021
I remember one post-Valentine's day my mother looking at her dying roses and saying it was time for them to go - before she could make good on this though, I asked if I could keep them and watch them fade. I did this for the photographs of course - but also for the fascination of it all. Watching a rose crumple and dry, each day it shrinking back into itself to then become apart of the Earth once more, to then grow anew the next season - it was like a poem in motion. One without words, slow, not in any way forced. Truthfully, such a beautiful sight.