Quarry Park, Monterey, California
I swore I’d never photograph flowers. They seemed like an easy target, and they’ve been studied and shot so well by so many. My instinct was to search for the less noticed magic in the world, the power and strength poking through the common, the beauty and innocents in the overlooked ordinary. Then, one day, I saw a forgotten California Poppy reaching through a crack in the sidewalk, sparkling with dew, and I couldn’t stop myself.
My wall of resistance began to crumble at the sight of what I call street flowers, flowers growing helter-skelter, colorful petals surviving against all odds. Their short life suggests appreciation, enticing me to accept the rose with the thorn. From the tight new bud to the full open magnificence, and finally, to the falling petals of acceptance, I find myself lost in their wild allure, individual splendor, and expression.