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Recent work in Botanical Readiness Vol.1 Spring unto Summer, 2024
From Seed to Earth
Recent work in Botanical Readiness Vol.1 Spring unto Summer, 2024
From Seed to Earth
Excerpt:
In the outdoor space of 4529 Homer St, Los Angeles, CA
This garden.
My garden.
But it was never mine.
I used to think I had control, but the more that I relinquish, the more I see complex relationships between the multitudes of creatures who reside on this tiny plot of land.
The garden is a pedagogical site. Even though many would consider me a seasoned gardener, I feel like a student when I tend to the Earth. I’ve given up on the idea of a designed space— nothing is manicured on this plot of land. But that’s what I am finding to be so much more interesting: the garden is an active space where many of the decisions are not made by me. Instead, it is the insects, birds, mammals, reptiles, fungi and plants who decide whom will thrive and survive, and whom will perish for the benefit of the other community members (even though I do not agree when my vegetables are the ones who succumb to disease or are eaten for the betterment of an invasive insect).
We as humans spend very little time in these garden spaces. We are used to controlled environments: those that shelter us from cold and heat, rain and sleet, intense sun and moisture. Even though we “own” or “occupy” these properties, we spend very little of our time outside on them.
The opossum I saw saunter down the driveway and through the gate knows the yard more intimately than I do. His livelihood depends on, it whereas for me it is a place of pleasure. Two baby opossums have taken to eating the loquats outside the studio. They only know the flavor of the ripe fruit. Out in the middle of the day, I assume their mother has either abandoned them or was killed. This garden is their nursery. And even though I see the unripe fruits perish under their ravenous mouths, I can’t bear to remove them.
But as the days pass, they are still emerging during daylight. They? Or is it just one now? A trap is set and a sole tiny creature drops into a bucket. It is taken to an opossum rehabilitator who will make sure she will be strong enough to be released into a more habitable environment.
I’m still unsure if this was the correct decision. Could she have survived if she was left within the confines of the garden? Or would her death have supported another’s life? I am well aware that my actions in the garden impact many more lives than I could fathom.
And so, I continue to learn and observe from all of these creatures as I attempt to facilitate an equitable situation. There was once a lack of life since the backyard was completely concreted over. It took years and many hours of work to remove the cement crust and to exposure the Earth below it. As plants began to sprout from the soil, all sorts of critters and organisms began to nest in the space. I assisted this transformation by letting the soil make contact with the air, which has created an increasingly active garden. I am forever in awe of the numerous creatures who I have the pleasure of encountering and will continue my deep observation of their impacts on this communal habitat.
In the outdoor space of 4529 Homer St, Los Angeles, CA
This garden.
My garden.
But it was never mine.
I used to think I had control, but the more that I relinquish, the more I see complex relationships between the multitudes of creatures who reside on this tiny plot of land.
The garden is a pedagogical site. Even though many would consider me a seasoned gardener, I feel like a student when I tend to the Earth. I’ve given up on the idea of a designed space— nothing is manicured on this plot of land. But that’s what I am finding to be so much more interesting: the garden is an active space where many of the decisions are not made by me. Instead, it is the insects, birds, mammals, reptiles, fungi and plants who decide whom will thrive and survive, and whom will perish for the benefit of the other community members (even though I do not agree when my vegetables are the ones who succumb to disease or are eaten for the betterment of an invasive insect).
We as humans spend very little time in these garden spaces. We are used to controlled environments: those that shelter us from cold and heat, rain and sleet, intense sun and moisture. Even though we “own” or “occupy” these properties, we spend very little of our time outside on them.
The opossum I saw saunter down the driveway and through the gate knows the yard more intimately than I do. His livelihood depends on, it whereas for me it is a place of pleasure. Two baby opossums have taken to eating the loquats outside the studio. They only know the flavor of the ripe fruit. Out in the middle of the day, I assume their mother has either abandoned them or was killed. This garden is their nursery. And even though I see the unripe fruits perish under their ravenous mouths, I can’t bear to remove them.
But as the days pass, they are still emerging during daylight. They? Or is it just one now? A trap is set and a sole tiny creature drops into a bucket. It is taken to an opossum rehabilitator who will make sure she will be strong enough to be released into a more habitable environment.
I’m still unsure if this was the correct decision. Could she have survived if she was left within the confines of the garden? Or would her death have supported another’s life? I am well aware that my actions in the garden impact many more lives than I could fathom.
And so, I continue to learn and observe from all of these creatures as I attempt to facilitate an equitable situation. There was once a lack of life since the backyard was completely concreted over. It took years and many hours of work to remove the cement crust and to exposure the Earth below it. As plants began to sprout from the soil, all sorts of critters and organisms began to nest in the space. I assisted this transformation by letting the soil make contact with the air, which has created an increasingly active garden. I am forever in awe of the numerous creatures who I have the pleasure of encountering and will continue my deep observation of their impacts on this communal habitat.