In the hot Florida summer of 2012, as I found myself stuck in the middle of my journey through art school, a different kind of education began - I discovered the art of gardening. Like many parts of my life, it was unplanned, but it unfolded alongside my artistic vision. As my eyes started seeing like an artist, my hands got dirty in the soil. These twin passions tangled together and provided a rich foundation for a new project.

Each summer, I became a quiet observer of the sunflowers in my backyard as they put on a show - a ragged, beautiful mess. They dragged me in and made me want to freeze their rough elegance in photographs. Gardening became an unexpected teacher, revealing the enduring patterns and rhythms of nature. It taught me about hanging in there and the value of steady, deliberate action.

I make big, bold photographs of the sunflowers I grow, each sprawled on a white background, bathed in natural light. The loud colors, bright yellow to crimson with a golden edge, seem to scream into the world without making a sound. They display an imperfect symmetry, akin to the unpredictable course of life, as they gaze out like large watching eyes.

My path reflects a mix of nature's fleeting beauty and the lasting struggle for artistic expression. That is what I try to do. Blend my rough-around-the-edges gardening with my art, making something that feels real.