This was my second winter back in New York, and it was unyielding. There is a certain kind of winter amnesia that sets in when you live here. Each year, we seem to forget the physical weight of the cold, the prolonged absence of the sun, and the simple luxury of standing comfortably outdoors. Eventually, the eye starts searching for a break in the gray. You look for green. A sudden pink, a wash of yellow.
With the season finally shifting, I’ve been thinking about the architecture of spring. There is a quiet intelligence in the structure of a flower. It is deeply technical, yet entirely organic. Much like working with natural textiles, I find myself wanting to look closer... zooming in to study the raw textures, getting lost in the way a yellow might bleed into the orange, much like the flows of natural dyes. And then, zooming out, watching those individual elements weave into a larger, complex pattern.
I took these photographs last spring at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. They serve as a gentle reminder of what is always waiting just beneath the frost. I’m looking forward to walking those paths again soon.
