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Cornwall is full of aliens. The mild, almost subtropical, warm air from the Gulf of Mexico creates much rain and seldom frost. This unique climate creates conditions suitable for many non-native plant species to thrive.
Fox Rosehill Garden, Falmouth, is the UK's first subtropical garden. A melting pot of foreign flora from all parts of the world. Jumbled and mismatched together, creating a marvellous botanical circus. During the winter, some of these alien plants have to be covered up. Otherwise, they die from the cold. Creating a ghostly spectacle that I wanted to capture. |
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The biggest challenge was making the perfect composition. I wanted to be close to the trees but not too close to lose the context in the background. Also, not too far away. That'd make it feel too loose. After countless retakes, I made a balanced frame. Mission achieved. But I had another problem to overcome. |
"CORNWALL IS THE ONLY PLACE I'VE SEEN PLANTS WRAPPED UP LIKE EGYPTIAN MUMMIES!
–JACOB J. WATSON-HOWLAND
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It was challenging to identify every single plant. There were so many and I hardly recognised any. The plaques on the trees were always a helpful sight. You'd see a tree from the USA, and the tree next to it would be from the Norfolk Islands. It was disorientating. After a few trips during the day, I thought about how I could get more unique shots. How I could make these non-native plants look more extra terrestrial.
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I returned at dusk to try this. I captured the leaf of a Dicksonia antarctica, a fern tree native to Eastern Australia. It thrives in damp, humid forests. This town park was not a forest, but it was damp. This made it difficult to film a wide shot of the trees, as it was dark. There was too much tension.
I was pushing my camera to the edge of its capabilities. Instead of making a cluttered wide frame of these trees. I honed in and focused on the tip of a single leaf. |
As Andy Warhol said, 'Empty space is never wasted space.' With this philosophy in mind, I placed my subject on the extreme edges of the frame. Allowing the plant to breathe.
I always think about how I can make my art different. In this instance, I overexposed the subject. Creating a stark contrast. I did this to reflect the sense of unease I felt with these magnificent aliens. They shouldn't be here and look ominous at dusk, but are stunning.
I always think about how I can make my art different. In this instance, I overexposed the subject. Creating a stark contrast. I did this to reflect the sense of unease I felt with these magnificent aliens. They shouldn't be here and look ominous at dusk, but are stunning.
During the daytime, the alien plants stuck out like a sore thumb against the leafless native plants. It created a fascinating juxtaposition and made the non-native plants feel even more foreign. Shooting in winter was definitely an effective choice. It would've been much more challenging to encapsulate their out-of-place spirit if I had shot against a leafy spring backdrop. There were so many alien species in the understory that it was hard to show this sense of contrast. I overcame this challenge by lying flat on my back and shooting up towards the canopy.
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The more I returned, the more peculiarities I saw. Cacti that should be in deserts, succulents that could be in your room and more bubble-wrapped plants revealed themselves as I trekked along the garden's winding paths at dawn. Still in disbelief that I was in cold England, not on a tropical Pacific Island.
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Every time I noticed a new alien, I was transported to its homeland. I envisioned the air on my skin, along with the smells and sounds of the environment where the lost traveller should live. I ponder whether the plant has a surviving relative back in its native country. I wonder if I could track it down, photograph it, and display it alongside its contrasting cousin.
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"EVERY TIME I NOTICED A NEW ALIEN, I WAS TRANSPORTED TO ITS HOMELAND. I ENVISIONED THE AIR ON MY SKIN, ALONG WITH THE SMELLS AND SOUNDS OF THE ENVIRONMENT WHERE THE LOST TRAVELLER SHOULD LIVE.
–JACOB J. WATSON-HOWLAND
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The human connection to these aliens can't go unnoticed. Humans are the ones who brought these plants back with them after long voyages across the globe. In this instance, one family did. The Fox family, which the garden is named after, owned a global shipping company. They brought many of these exotic plants in the 1800s on packet ships that travelled worldwide. Robert Fox helped acclimatise many of these aliens throughout the 1820s.
It was Robert's nephew, Howard, who expanded the garden during the 1870s and is responsible for the widespread population of 'Cornish Palms' found across the South-West of England, which is actually an alien species native to New Zealand.
Nowadays, the gardens are actively managed by workers and volunteers who plan to introduce more aliens to the exotic floral city. I knew if I made no frames showing human management, I'd leave half the story behind. The best evidence of human interference, other than the mummified trees, was a taped-off corner of the park. The first time I tried to capture it, I left disappointed. I wasn't pleased with the images. There wasn't enough contrast. Not enough punch. Not enough impact. The light that day was flat. I knew to make the print I envisioned, I'd have to return at sunrise.
By 7.20am, I was back amongst the aliens. When I first arrived, it was dark and overcast. I expected another round of poor light. By 8.30am, the conditions were the same. I was ready to leave empty-handed. I decided to wait another few minutes before packing up. I'm glad I did. Sunshine pierced through the heart of the clouds, bleeding out fresh light onto the tape. This created the contrast I needed. This is just one instance of a terrific moment I've experienced in this garden. I've had so many akin to this.
It was Robert's nephew, Howard, who expanded the garden during the 1870s and is responsible for the widespread population of 'Cornish Palms' found across the South-West of England, which is actually an alien species native to New Zealand.
Nowadays, the gardens are actively managed by workers and volunteers who plan to introduce more aliens to the exotic floral city. I knew if I made no frames showing human management, I'd leave half the story behind. The best evidence of human interference, other than the mummified trees, was a taped-off corner of the park. The first time I tried to capture it, I left disappointed. I wasn't pleased with the images. There wasn't enough contrast. Not enough punch. Not enough impact. The light that day was flat. I knew to make the print I envisioned, I'd have to return at sunrise.
By 7.20am, I was back amongst the aliens. When I first arrived, it was dark and overcast. I expected another round of poor light. By 8.30am, the conditions were the same. I was ready to leave empty-handed. I decided to wait another few minutes before packing up. I'm glad I did. Sunshine pierced through the heart of the clouds, bleeding out fresh light onto the tape. This created the contrast I needed. This is just one instance of a terrific moment I've experienced in this garden. I've had so many akin to this.
"THIS IS JUST ONE INSTANCE OF A TERRIFIC MOMENT I EXPERIENCED IN THIS GARDEN. I'VE HAD SO MANY AKIN TO THIS.
–JACOB J. WATSON-HOWLAND
Although they take up space from native plants, these aliens are beautiful. My journey from a frequent passerby to a regular photographer of these exotic plants has been marvellous. Starting as mere subjects to practice on, they soon became a strong set of characters, part of an interesting story. Big things start small, and this narrative has only just begun. They deserve to have their beauty encapsulated. This is my mission when making frames of alien species. I'll be back.
