For quite some time I took ‘pretty’ pictures of flowers. Many of them were more ‘documentary’ than anything else. Top, side, name for more than I care to remember. There was a sterility in that. Not satisfactory to my aesthetic sensibilities. Then I visited the Bill Wykoff Dahlia Garden at the Bayard Cutting Arboretum. At the height of the season. Late in the day with the golden/red setting sun’s illumination animating all that it touched.
A sense of wonder came over me. Each blossom expressed its own unique identity. Each one different. Yes, brothers and sisters of the same family but beautiful in its ‘specialness.’ I did not take a single picture that day. But I made friends, many of them. And I SAW. Knowing their beauty was transitory I needed to capture them in ‘floral portraits’ that parted the veil.