Modern Bloom
Root and Relic
A Certain Nature
My grandfather, Jack, was a man of few words. A military man, measured in his manner, deliberate in his decisions, and private in his affections. He carried a certain gravity that could easily be mistaken for severity. Yet around his home grew flowers of remarkable character. Unruly, colorful, almost fanciful in their disregard for order. He tended them with care, and through them, gave affection a form of its own. All of them grown by the same hands that belonged to a man of such discipline and restraint.
I have often wondered how much of a person remains unknown to us, concealed not by intention, but by the narrow ways in which we come to understand them. Perhaps this is why I have always found such freedom in making things. Art allows for an intimacy that ordinary encounters seldom afford, revealing parts of ourselves that may otherwise go unseen. For all that my grandfather may have kept to himself, his garden was wonderfully indiscreet.
The First Work
She was an exercise in instinct, and an unlikely assembly of shape, texture, and color. I’m grateful she was my first, for she represents what I hope Modern Bloom will always be: a challenge to convention, a study in form, and an invitation to explore.