More Garden Studies

I make high-resolution still life photographs of natural objects that tell a simple story of beauty. I use the flora and tiny fauna of a very small region, usually my neighborhood, and work on a flatbed scanner to capture these lush curious compositions at high resolution. My vision isn’t as good as it used to be, so seeing the highly magnified details of natural forms revealed in large prints is thrilling. Working with flora that actively fades, or caterpillars that move, generates challenges that I enjoy responding to.

My complex compositions reward the curious as they discover details of the natural world they may have never seen. Scale of the objects I photograph is important, especially exciting when it introduces confusion with no digital trickery; you might remember a photograph from my last show at Imogen, “Other Things that Might Be Happening During the Eclipse” showed how, on some summer days in the garden, a watermelon, picked when very young, is the same size as a grasshopper. Drawn to imperfections in natural objects that point to their lack of artifice, I seek tiny phenomenal and ephemeral events to choreograph in real time.
In this increasingly anxious world, my work grounds me, giving me at least an illusion of being in control if only on the 8.5”x11.7” scanner glass on which I compose. This simple tool allows me to mix traditional photography expertise with contemporary digital technology. Size of the images that I print is important to me in determining the finished object’s nature, whether they become large framed archival pigment prints, or smaller editioned prints housed in handmade portfolio boxes that I make. As an artist with a long background in craft, it’s important to me that my photographs are carefully considered objects. 

Last year, I won a competition to create artwork to cover the Palos Verdes Art Center, near Los Angeles. Wrapping the building with my still life images printed on vinyl has been one of the more interesting things I’ve done as an artist. On view through 2020, it was one of the few art exhibitions that you could visit freely during pandemic time, as it was outdoors and always open.  

For the past few years, I’ve been so busy making new artwork that I’ve rarely stepped back to take the time to understand how my work affects others. The connections I’ve made with collectors, with gallerists, and with other artists have allowed me to appreciate the importance a simple concept like beauty can have to others’ lives, and has allowed me to think of my work as being useful, especially during this time of pandemic. I’ve made some print sales during this time, and have been grateful to collectors who understand how crucial their support is to artists and galleries.

Creativity comes in so many different ways, this year with a more involved engagement in the garden, in cooking every single meal that we eat, and in attempting to stay engaged with friends and family. In a unique career event, publishing company Pomegranate has created a 1000 piece puzzle featuring one of my favorite images, “Siri’s Lilac”. Caught by surprise by the pandemic, Pomegranate’s puzzle business soared over 850% from prior years. I’m enjoying seeing pictures on Facebook of folks putting their puzzles together.

I have always embraced change as a motivation to discover new things in my work, so a feeling that things will be different in the future is not an unfamiliar one. I have been so grateful to live in a home that is warm and dry, with a yard to wander around in, with electronic media of all sorts to allow me to reach out and remain safe. I’ve had time to consider the things I make as an artist, and one new conclusion is an end to editioning my photographs. Each print that I make is its own original work of art, and will differ from others in ways that may be subtle, or may be dramatic. This decision to end the act of editioning has taken years to make, but is one that I feel will help me feel more like the artist I am, and less like a record keeper struggling to figure out which edition number that last one was. Some will be in beautiful handmade frames made by Fred Soelzer, and others will rely on the collector’s desires for framing. I’m grateful for the support from my gallerist Teri Sund, and I look forward to continuing to make each work of art something I’m proud of.

Deb Stoner