My goal is not aesthetic, but to create a sense of intimacy.

Introduction

Flowers evolved to attract pollinators; humans evolved to be attracted to flowers. There were sound reasons. The first was survival: flowers presaged seeds and fruits that would later appear, the shape and colour of the blossom signalling the palatable from the poisonous. But more fundamental phenomena were at play. The brain is hardwired to certain stimuli. We are drawn to symmetry, contrasts, novelty. Colours and fragrances can affect mood as they stimulate the release of serotonin and dopamine. As humans evolved and cultures developed, these inherent responses were woven into rituals and belief systems, into art and design, into expressions of love and condolence. Flowers are, at their essence, reminders of the transience of beauty, of life itself… but also of the cycles of Nature that renew, that carry on. It is that impermanence that lends poignance to their beauty, which is all the more intense because of its brevity. It is little wonder then that flowers have become a near-universal language of emotion, that innate intelligence which guides us when reason alone cannot.

It is these complex yet familiar attributes of flowers that the artist Anne Skoogfors draws on in her imagery. She takes a mundane technology of mechanical reproduction and finds within it a means to the allusivity and irreducibility of the poetic. The unconventional mode of their creation lends each floral arrangement qualities that are both graphic and elusive. The botanical forms are at once familiar and yet a little mysterious – uncanny even. Untethered from the earth, they float in a netherworld of deepest black, their vibrant colours dissolving into shadow as if they are already in the process of quietly departing – the intimacy of non-becoming forever stilled by a sweep of light.

Alasdair Foster

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Interview

What first drew you to artmaking?

I don’t really know. I have memories of drawing at a very early age. But no one in my immediate family made pictures, so where I got my impulse to artmaking remains a mystery to me.

You were initially a painter and printmaker. What led you to take up photography as a creative form?

I already had an interest in the effects of light. I had played with photography as just another form of visual observation since high school, but it had never been my primary form of expression.

However, in the early 1990s, I was exposed to toxic chemicals used in the renovation of a work environment. This left me highly sensitive to solvent-based art materials and forced me to abandon working with oil paint and inks. While I had some experience of digital photography, I had only ever used it as a recording tool…

The exposure to toxic chemicals that forced you to abandon painting and printmaking must have been traumatic.

It was. The chemicals affected the way my brain works, compromising my memory, my ability to process information. It was difficult to carry on a conversation. But Nature has always been a source of inspiration for me… it does not need words. Being out in Nature felt safe and nonjudgemental. I was also highly sensitive to all forms of fragrance and the kind of chemicals so often found in indoor environments. So, being out in Nature was more comfortable for me.

In the end, it was my creative spirit that saved me. There were so many ordinary activities that had suddenly become a threat, triggering dizziness and confusion. Creating art became my world – a realm where I had some sort of control. I often wonder if whatever compelled me to draw and paint as a child has come into play here. Perhaps I was reaching back into myself to interpret what I was feeling and found solace in the act of creation. Maybe my safe place was always making art.

Was that when you began to explore photography, making digital images?

Currently I make images in two distinct ways: with a digital camera and using a scanning device. I think I have gravitated to photography because there were many wonderful photographs in my grandmother’s home, where I grew up. They were mostly in boxes in the attic. And, while my art studies did not formally include photography, I later met people who had a more serious relationship with the medium, which I am certain influenced this new phase in my creative life.

What do you use?

It was almost by accident… I had a scanner on my desk, a garden outside, and my ever-present curiosity. I was intrigued to find out how the scanner’s artificial light would capture the image of a flower. I placed a bloom on the glass platen, closed the lid, and scanned it. The result had a strangely graphic quality that I liked. Over the next few years, I experimented with this new source of image making, and, in the early 2000s, botanical scans became the core of my artistic practice.

What qualities of scanning appealed to you?

It intrigued me. Working with a scanner there is a very concrete set of limitations. But I enjoy that challenge. My habit when faced with a difficulty is to ask, ‘what if…?’ and go from there. I liked the way the black background emphasised the graphic quality of the image. It reminded me of the photograms of László Moholy-Nagy and Man Ray, which in turn provided a sense of artistic heritage to build on. And, with so much precisely rendered detail, they reminded me of classic botanical illustrations.

Have you always been interested in botany?

As a child, I loved examining flowers or insects, butterflies, birds. I grew up in my maternal grandmother’s house. An avid gardener and observer of Nature, she was eager to answer my endless questions on these topics. The neighbourhood in which I grew up is known as Philadelphia’s Garden District. It is a beautiful area filled with ancient trees and cultivated gardens, so it is not much of a stretch that I found Nature of interest. It was all around me and my fascination was enhanced and encouraged by my grandmother. I developed a kind of need to observe the natural world close up, as though it held some important secret to be learnt.

What do you want to express through your images of flowers?

I seek a sense of similitude. I am drawn to the way in which all living things are intertwined. It’s like making a portrait. I want to capture the true essence of the subject – that living being – in this case, a flower. What has come to intrigue me of late, as people respond to my images on Instagram, is the process of seeing. It is like all experience really, we each bring our own interpretation to what we perceive, be it a picture, a song, or an event. So, ultimately, I think the important thing is to remain focused on your own perceptions as the creator, the energy that sparks in you this deep need to express!

I do believe that the work should be honest, by which I mean that it should show something of the essence of the flower. Roland Barthes coined the term ‘punctum’ to describe a detail in a photograph that emotionally pierces the viewer, creating a deeply personal connection that goes beyond just a general interest. I want my images to convey the lifeforce of a flower… a call to engage.

How do you go about making an image?

I rarely have a pre-conceived idea. Initially, I am drawn to colour or form. Then, as I rearrange the elements on the glass platen, it starts to come together. It’s not always a finished image in itself, but it might have the potential to be a wonderful element within a picture once I begin constructing it in a digital-editing program. So, I save that version and then begin rearranging the elements again.

I really enjoy this process. It is very different from the way in which a work develops using more traditional art techniques. Making an image digitally, you have the opportunity to save every iteration. Later, I may use a given image or put it to one side and come back to it later, taking it in quite another direction. And I can do all that without wasting materials as I would if I were working with paint on paper or canvas.

How do you select the flowers you will work with?

Sometimes I think I have impulses much as a migratory bird might. As seasons change, I find myself being attracted towards different species of flower. I live in an apartment now and do not have a garden, but I am very grateful for the generosity of neighbours who do. In many cases, my images are a celebration of the changing seasons and the flowers I see on my daily walks. And when the seasons do not offer up something locally, I buy flowers from a shop and work with them.

What challenges did you meet in using a scanner to make art?

Leaving the lid open means the flowers do not get crushed, creating a greater sense of depth. It also means the background is dark. However, initially I had problems with this because light from other parts of the room would interfere with the image. So, I built a shadow box around the scanner to isolate it from extraneous light, which gives a much richer black to the background.

As an apartment dweller, there is one very practical advantage to making art with a scanner and computer: it requires a lot less space in which to store materials and the finished work!

How do you work with the scans to create the final image?

Early on I found that pollen from the flowers and dust from the air that landed on the glass platen caught the light from the scanner, disturbing the clarity of the image. So, I researched affordable computer editing programs and learned how to clean up my images digitally. I found it to be a rich learning experience. I generally make use of these tools to clean up the image and perhaps sharpen it to emphasise the form of a flower or leaf, to accentuate a particularly beautiful curve. Sometimes I will place one image over another… It’s mostly about playing with the image and developing it as ideas strike me. The result is rarely preconceived.

Where do you present your flower images?

I have been showing this work on Instagram for several years. While I did previously present my work in more conventional exhibition spaces, health issues have made it too difficult to continue showing work in that way. And, in truth, I am so enriched by the creative act itself that for me this always comes first. When I was younger, I was intent on pursuing a path toward being ‘known’. What I need now is to find solace in life; the difficult world of commerce and reputation can come later.

How do you hope the viewer will engage with your work – find there?

When something happens that changes the whole trajectory of your life path, if you are fortunate, you come to learn the importance of simple joy, a sense of wonder. You seek a place of solace … somewhere that is not simply a blind escape…

I was recently buying flowers in a store and the woman helping told me about an experience she had had in Italy. She was looking at the works of Caravaggio and found herself crying. She felt embarrassed and confused as to why this was. The fact is that works of art have the potential – as do the circumstances of life – to touch us deeply. I am profoundly moved by the wonder of the natural world. My hope is that my work retains the integrity of Nature and elicits an emotional response in the viewer.

Social media platforms such as Instagram provide space for feedback and comments from viewers. What kind of response have you received?

I had never experienced the sense of creative community that I imagine one has at art school and had little experience of receiving feedback on my artmaking. So, before presenting my images on social media, I was not fully aware of its impact. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to share my work. The audience was welcoming and, reading their responses, I came to evaluate my work in a different way.

However, this comes with an inherent risk. An artist of any medium should not create work simply to garner the praise of others. Art must grow from a place of origins… What do I mean by that? The source must always be your own inspiration, arising from your own honest response to the world as you experience it. It fails if you simply try to please others. Of course, it is rewarding to be appreciated but when one creates with integrity it requires an openness to inspiration. One must start from a place of unknowing, otherwise one risks simple repetition. It is in what is yet to come – the newness of the unfamiliar – that one finds the path to creativity.

Your images are beautiful, but you have said ‘my goal is not aesthetic, but to create a sense of intimacy’. I love that idea.

These days, with AI, it is easy to produce an aesthetic image. Maybe it is the ‘aura’ of a life form that I need to convey, not the beauty. When a flower has a scar, a flaw, that is where we connect, where we find comfort in our weaker selves. Where we find humanity… As Leonard Cohen wrote: “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in”. It is something we feel inside of ourselves. Intimate.

There is so much to discuss, mull over… How we see, judge, come to accept… and perhaps even feel we can say ‘I love this!’

In making these flower works what have you learned about yourself personally?

I am not sure that making art has itself taught me anything. It does echo a childhood fascination with Nature, one that I have continued to draw on as the inspiration for my work. I have come to recognise that the best art is made from that with which we are most deeply connected.

But the only response I have to this question is that expressing beauty and wonder, creating a refuge from world events and life complexities, seems important right now.

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This interview is a Talking Pictures original.

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