About Greenhouses
Greenhouse (1993-2000)
When I began this work, I was primarily attracted to small, idiosyncratic enterprises, to places that were in various states of disrepair, redolent with neglect, and ready to collapse. But eventually I was drawn to vast, austere, and prosperous flower factories as well, with their tidy, interior acres, like immaculate, miniature farms under glass.
The essence of a greenhouse is a combination of luminous transparency, oxygen-rich air, and the scent of moist earth. They are paradoxical places, both closely contained and splendidly open. Greenhouses are the flimsiest of skeletons with delicate skins; they change with every variation in the light of day, yet they are bravely indifferent to the seasons. They appear to be structural parables about the mystery of illumination and the illumination of mystery.