Over the past year, my studio transformed and became what I like to refer to as my ‘magic garden’. An environment of fantasy and wonder where I found myself spending hours exploring and playing. I found beauty in my artworks and the various materials that surrounded me.
Like a garden I need light, and I allow this light to shine out of my work. Love is light.
This body of work is a celebration of life and it’s fragility.
The series of monoprints began evolving last year as a response to the death of my Mother. Her passion was her garden. Unlike the wild indigenous garden that I have surrounding my home, my mother’s garden was an English country-style garden, comprising of many exotic plants carefully pruned into compliance. She spent hours maintaining her garden, she planted in ‘beds’, along boundary walls and around the house: neat, orderly and clipped back.
My images of peonies, poppies and dahlias are a nostalgic reference to these past memories. Juxtaposed with images from my own indigenous garden, which is wild, unruly and left to self-seed and regenerate, as the seasons come and go.
The Iris, referenced in my “Lie of the Land” series, represents a colonial, bygone era, blooming only for a short period of time. Its exotic, foreign beauty strangely out of place in the harsh highveld landscape.