Sometimes I Hear the Greenhouse Weeps
(ongoing)
Everything in the greenhouse is perfectly fabricated, yet this impeccability exudes a distinct oddness. Artificial insects, decorated infrastructure, uncommon neighbouring plants.The arid leaves make no sound, amid the stringently conditioned atmosphere in the early hours of a cloudy day. Tourists are scant, making brief visits to each room. The silence feels subtly unusual. There is a sense of stiffness - almost suppression - bouncing within the metal frames as the architecture expands.
The botanicals stand still within humanity’s voracious scientific gaze, far, far, far away from home, marginalised. Who are these heavily guarded specimens, cosmetically composed, yet deprived of total freedom? The temperate peace and placidity are orchestrated projections funded by out entrance fee. Sometimes I hear the greenhouse weeps, just slightly softer than the ventilating machine.
Melancholy is a greenhouse.
← Selected images (Oxford Botanical Garden, 2019; Cloud Forests Singapore, 2025) →