Weeds, the outlaws of an ordered society. Outcast plants that ought not to be sowed into our pure soil. To be a weed is to be free from human control. We see weeds as leaches, parasites, plants that do not belong. Weeds have been defined as “a plant not appreciated for its beauty or it's use”. Well I'm here to tell you weeds, you are gorgeous! Screw the beauty standards. I'd take a sea of Black Nightshade over a sprawl of Daffodils any day. Why are we so intimidated by an independent plant? The luscious flowers of the South African Milkweed are surely as beautiful as the bulbs we see in the Bunnings isle.
It is it's willfulness to create it's own beauty that makes it a weed. They live their live so resourcefully that they don't need us. Weeds create they own glory, they don't ask for help, they simply get on with the job.
This project saw me dive headfirst into human's most domineering architectural forms, the strong monolithic shapes of brutalism. A brutalist building is a statement of humanities self importance. A monument to say I (A HUMAN) WAS HERE. Inspired by the shape of these concrete sarcophagi I made my own ceramic vessels. I thought it would be funny to take such a human driven form and populate it with the most wild, inhuman flora.
I filled these empty structures with a balanced mix of soil. Rock's and charcoal formed the foundations, allowing water to flow and filter. A mix of manure and soil formed the center, to provide a free buffet to the plants. Atop of this whole charade I placed a coat of sphagnum bryophyta. This thick wooly moss would hold the moisture, like a jumper holds warmth. This perfect concoction of earthly delights were left to sit. I placed the planter lacking plants, in the darkest corner of my Melbourne garden. For nine months both I and the vessels waited. These athropogenic shells quickly became homes to wilder forms. From planning to documentation this project was a fruitful twelve months. Even though I've already snapped the photos, this is merely just the beginning of this project. I can't wait to see the communities that these plants will mutate into in another twelve. It's fun being in the garden, not playing the hand of god but simply documenting as an observer.
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