Edges of Illusion
A garden is an edge defining the transition between the built and the natural world. Water, rocks, and plants merge to create spaces that provide a sense of place and engender a feeling of belonging.
We cover the natural world with concrete; we push it aside with buildings. After we vanquish it, we then invite back it into our lives, but on our terms. Some of the most important public spaces are our gardens: large formal gardens for strolling, gardens with broad open spaces that demand running and sledding and kite-flying, gardens carefully planned to look like wild areas, small pocket gardens on which to rest the eye momentarily as we pass by. But our feeling of control is an illusion. Eventually the natural world reasserts itself in small, but persistent, ways; changing what we have built.
Gardens change on a time scale that is a human timescale. Day to night, autumn to winter to spring; the rhythm is what draws me to the garden. Just as these gardens are an edge and mark a transition, the photographs in this series mark the transition at the edges of the day. This is a time that I enjoy for the sense of expectation it produces. I eagerly anticipate the way the changing light transforms the world. In these photographs I use this different light to remove distraction and focus attention.
