This series began as an attempt to immerse myself in the only nature available to me during the strict lockdowns of the past year, namely, the so-called ‘nature strips’ around my neighbourhood. Nature strips are a feature of Australian suburbia: little green patches between the street and the sidewalk, where plant life is allowed in a contained site. They are a liminal, threshold space between public and private, because they are public land, but are cultivated (or not) but the residents whose houses are closest to them.
Every day on my allotted one-hour walks, I noticed more and more untamed nature strips and other feral green corners – in vacant lots, in parking lots, behind buildings.
Physically getting into these green spaces, and immersing myself in what nature they could offer me, turned into a kind of tiny rebellion, a performative assertion of inner sovereignty, performed for self and camera. How close can I get to the natural world while living my life in the city?
This series is about a longing to reconnect with nature and the absurdity of attempting to fulfil this wish in the middle of an urban environment. It’s also about the indefatigable wild growth of the plant kingdom amongst the cement and concrete with which we are covering up more and more of the earth. I’m still not exactly sure, but maybe even a very small dose of nature can still be medicine.