Barbara Gilson
The magic begins in the garden, a seed, reaching towards the light.
Bearing fruit through the long hot summer, with the coming of autumn a trellised cucumber dries on the vine. The tendrils hold on, the last remaining fruits a bit stunted, the leaves losing their suppleness, tearing and rumpled. I tenderly release the tendrils, gather and cradle the plant in a shallow box to carry inside. A dynamic moment in time arrested, stilled.
The cucumber plant is the first of many collaborative experiments that I have brought inside my studio to place on the scanner bed. As I continued to see and collect many other plants, flowers, and herbs, I began to pay attention to so many tiny moments amidst the greater drama in the garden.
I tune into the dynamic rhythm of the plants, they give me cues, teach me patience, and another way to understand time. Some are plucked at the height of their radiant splendor, others as they decay and disintegrate, beautiful in their decline, and still others, the seed heads forming and drying, the final transformation, bringing the hope and promise for the next cycle of seasons.
In the line of a long tradition of preserving botanical specimens, it is my hope that each of these photographs honors the integrity of the plant. The photographically derived patina and artifacts in the pictures are idiosyncratic, playful, and intended to embellish and to resonate with the spirit of the subject.
As a gardener, herbalist, and photographer, I am curious and excited by all I continue to glean as I pay attention in these worlds. In sharing the fragile beauty of these plants, I am fascinated by the surprising serendipity in creating the photographs that can only be hoped for, never imagined.