Dreamy Whites.

A bouquet in five frames.
A study in white, cream and green. Gosh I miss dogwood already.

There lies the poetry about working seasonally I suppose, whether it is with food, flowers, gardening, painting, walking...one aspect quietly ends just as the next is unraveling before you. Fleeting moments, flash storms, falling petals. But capturing them in a photo is like taking a little piece of the season and placing it in your pocket, a little souvenir of time and place. I alternate between being exasperated by our need to photograph everything all the time, leading an Instagram Life (why does everything have to be recorded, why can't we just be in it!?), and also loving it (yes, addicted to Instagram). Alain de Botton touches on this in his "The Art of Travel" - that idea that as tourists we travel across the globe in search of new places, new experiences, and we are so hell-bent on preserving that experience on film that we forget to just live in the moment, really breathe in that place, really see it. But perhaps it's also about the desire to share our experiences with others, and the desire to re-visit those moments without them fading, an attempt by us to slow time and have it loop around again. In any case, for me these photos are also a kind of homage and thankyou to all the flowers, now long-faded, that have lent their beauty along the way.
Oh, and also, I'm SO damn busy at the moment bustling around with flowers, that if I stopped photographing stuff I'd be like those people that came out of the acid haze of the 60s and didn't remember a thing.