In a previous blog post I mentioned my walks in the forests at the edge of the Wollemi National Park during a 2014 artist residency at BigCI. It was not all walking though. There was a lot of clambering up and down the rocks and making my way through the thick undergrowth. Often I sat on the rocks for hours; contemplating, meditating till the insects and birds drew nearer thinking I was part of the natural flora and fauna. And of course I filled pages and pages of sketchbooks with drawing and scribbling.

Over time one subject that kept showing up in my sketchbook was the fascinating plant life. I loved some of my drawings but others did not have that “feeling” that had inspired me to draw them in the first place. I had to ask myself what was this essence that I was trying to capture on my sketchbook page. And then it came to me. These plants, wild and chaotic as they were, seemed to grow in accordance with an internal order, a grace that is so obvious to see yet hard to put into words.

This astounding array of plantlife is the outcome of centuries of adapting to the environmental conditions in the region, every mutation leading to another new variety. (In my last blog post I mention that this part of the world has the largest variety of flora in the world after the Amazon Basin) Even as I walked around I saw evidence of adaptation and resilience everywhere. In many places one can still see the ground charred black by recent bush fires but a green forest had sprung up over it. I saw tall trees growing leafy and abundant at the top but with their entire trunk hollowed out by fire. I saw some trees growing on other trees that were rooted in the rock-no deep roots to sustain the enormous structures.

Resilience perhaps is the source of their wild beauty? In every moment their growth patterns are dictated by the environmental conditions that they sustain and overcome. Flexibility in adapting to their surroundings manifests itself in a grace that is visually perceptible.

Something else about these plants also left a lasting impression. As I walked around I saw how plants in the wilderness blossom and flourish in their fullest splendor. But when I walked by the same spot on the next day I would be shocked to find that what had caught my attention yesterday was often lost forever or completely changed by the forces of nature. The abundance flourishing in the face of inevitable transience gave me pause for thought.

Some of the walls of the Art Shed at BigCI are made of whiteboards –the same whiteboard that we use in our offices and schools to present our thinking to an audience. Whiteboard and whiteboard markers are a hard, cold, industrial material so different from the organic materials I gravitate towards in my work. Yet the fact that something drawn on a whiteboard is erased in seconds made this material appropriate for what I had to express about these experiences. I painstakingly recreated my sketches on the huge whiteboard wall. Seeking to recreate the intangible rhythm of the forest with whiteboard markers was a challenging experience. The process was a personal journey of attempting to reconcile my urban existence with the lessons I learnt from nature. As I gave my self over to the process, the experience changed me forever. 

Why Dead Plants?

This work was done during a November 2014 artist residency at BigCI (otherwise known as Bilpin International Ground for Creative Initiatives). BigCI is located at the edge of the Wollemi National Park (part of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area in Australia). I was told that this part of the world has the largest variety of flora in the world after the Amazon Basin. I would walk for hours in the “bush” (Australian for forest) soaking in the natural beauty of the area, often stopping to sit on a rock to sketch or write something in my sketchbook. On one of these walks, some dead plants wedged between tall grass and shrubs caught my eye. They just lay there almost invisible amongst the amazing vegetation that grew all around them. Fascinated by their fragile unique beauty I took them back to the studio and started studying them through drawing.

After that day, every time I was outdoors I started noticing more and more of the dead plants. Their woody rhythmic shapes, the forms of their leaves, pods and branches all fascinated me. The very fact that I often trod on them as I navigated my way through the bush brought home the humility and fate of these amazing creations of nature.
 
Every walk ended with me bringing more of these plants back to the studio. I laid them out before me on the floor and the tables and suspended them in the air. I wanted to see them in their uniqueness –freeing the forms from the clutter of an abundant forest. 

Cycles of Life

Working in this way I pondered the ultimate destiny of my dead plants- to be absorbed back into the earth from which they had grown. Yet in their ceasing to exist they would provide nourishment to the next generation of forest undergrowth and even the tall trees of the bush. 

The nature of life is cyclical whether it is plants or humans. I thought of the floral veils that are used to decorate a bridal home in India. The fragrance and colour of the flowers are intrinsic to the bridal festivities. Yet on the day after the wedding when the bride leaves her parent’s home and goes to her husband’s house these flowers are already wilting. As the floral veil is taken down to be thrown away there is a melancholy associated with the act of saying adieu to a daughter or sister. But even in the midst of this sorrow one looks forward to happier events around the corner as she embarks upon a new life. Influenced by memories of floral veils, the work took on the form of a veil. 

The Urban Veil

One of the dictionary definitions of a veil is “something that conceals, separates or screens”. A city dweller often views the natural world on a handphone, a computer or the television. Even when we get closer there is often a camera lens or a car window that separates us from nature. All these “screens” conceal from us our connection to the natural world. How often are we able to enter into natural surroundings and know ourselves again as a part of it?