My Garden
My Garden is a personal series developed over two years, created using only what I find in my own garden at a specific moment in time. The project is rooted in an ongoing relationship with a place and its gradual transformation.
What began as a raw, untouched garden became both subject and collaborator. As we worked on it, introduced new plants, and watched them grow—or fail to grow—the garden slowly evolved. Along the way, it became an active ecosystem where birds, insects, fungi, mold, and weather interacted.
The series follows a simple rule: every image is created using only what is present in the garden at that moment. This limitation turns the work into a visual diary shaped by time, seasons, and natural change.
As the seasons pass, the garden shifts between abundance and restraint, energy and stillness. Colors emerge and fade, textures dry out, forms soften or break. Working under these conditions required me to slow down, observe carefully, and pay attention to small details that might otherwise go unnoticed.
Composition becomes the main tool to transform ordinary elements into playful, minimal images. Rather than seeking control, the process embraces adaptation, patience, and curiosity.
In the studio, elements are carefully taken out of their original context and combined with other plants, rocks, wood, or organic matter found in the garden. Through composition, scale, and balance, these fragments are arranged into sculptural constructions, where light plays a defining role. Shadows, textures, and color interactions shape each image, turning familiar materials into abstract, almost architectural forms.
The project began shortly after moving from the city to a small town and having a garden for the first time in my life. Working with this space became a way of connecting with my new surroundings and with a quieter pace, very different from the urban environment I had always lived in.
My Garden reflects a personal transition as much as a visual one: a way of learning to look closely, to accept change, and to find beauty in what is already there.
Early spring marks the awakening after winter. The first flowers begin to bloom, their shapes slowly forming before fully opening. What was mostly green starts to populate with bright colors, appearing one after another to attract insects. Energy builds gradually as the garden shifts from restraint into motion and growth.
Late spring is a moment of abundance and confidence. Flowers reach their full size, colors intensify, and growth feels assured after weeks of rain and sun. The garden becomes generous and almost majestic, overflowing with life, movement, and constant change, surprising me daily with new shapes, scales, and color combinations
After a few months away from the series, returning at this peak moment felt especially rewarding. The garden was overflowing with life, shaped by mild weather and generous rainfall. New species had just been introduced, bringing unexpected colors, fresh forms, and the excitement of discovering how they were beginning to settle and grow.
This one was shot just after the a strong period of very warm weather with temperatures suddenly getting lower. It was summer’s last portrait, a little unruly and a little dry.
The end of summer came with some fading colors, textures that look more dry, everything slowing down. The garden showing that unmistakable Spanish summer look—sun-kissed and slightly overcooked with all its signs: leaves crisped at the edges, flowers making their last effort and the ground thirsty.
Early Autumn was the beginning of the series. The garden was untouched, raw. We hadn't done any work on it yet, but the magnificent, mature trees and bushes were large, wild, and beautiful. Everything was new to me, and I really enjoyed the detailed exploration and mindful attention I had to give to every living element: the colors, the shapes, and the textures. This image set the direction to follow in the rest of the series.
Late autumn arrived with moisture and deep, earthy tones. Mushrooms started popping up as if they already knew the place, some in the garden, others in the nearby forest I think of as its extension. Their unexpected shapes and textures revealed a hidden world beneath the surface, full of quiet connections and tiny universes waiting to be discovered
Winter arrived This time with one special guest: fresh snow. It fell overnight, and I woke up to a beautifully white landscape. I couldn't miss the opportunity to include it along with whats left from the snow and the few fruits that you can still find to feed birds before it all disappears into the deep cold.
Some BTS
Thank you very much for your appreciations!