Do you see urban plants in this picture? What about graffiti?
My sharp-eyed sister Phoebe did. She observed some interesting sidewalk phenomena during a recent visit to our childhood home:
How many different succulents can you count in this picture? I tried to count them all and lost track. This incredible garden, which Sara and I saw as we visited a rustic little beach by Half Moon Bay on New Year’s Eve, is clearly the product of human intervention. I highly doubt any natural seaside cliff would be so diversely and densely populated.
Once in awhile, in addition to 3d, living plants, I document depictions of plants, too. After eating some fantastic tacos in Santa Cruz early last month, I noticed a blobby little urban mural cactus hiding behind the Christmas decor.
Spotted last month on Soquel Avenue, the main drag in the sunny beach town of Santa Cruz, California. This luxuriant viny plant is hurrying up a high wall to join hordes of fellow plants, sitting in a row in little pots. I would love to go back in a year and see if the vine has reached its goal! For that matter, I’d love to go back right now – here in 15 C-below-freezing Berlin, there’s not much greenery to observe or much motivation for going outdoors.
The amazing Megan of Megamoog recently photographed this bizarre-looking green roof and shared it on her Flickr photostream. Though I have been feeling like there are just too many stories about green rooves in the news these days, this one had such a cute, alien, submarine-spaceship look that I had to find out more, so I asked Megan for the scoop. It turns out that this is no average green roof, but something much more wonderful.
Posted in From our contributors, Plants elsewhere in NYC, Projects from others, tagged art, California, installation, park, photography, plastic bag, redwood city, sculpture, train station, tumbleweed, weeds, wild west on 22 June 2009 | 7 Comments »
Traveling back each year to the place I grew up, I notice changes in the commercial and residential landscape: bookstores that have gone, chains that have moved in, friends’ families who have moved away, the spreading of the suburban perimeter. I notice new traffic lights and speed bumps while driving through the old neighborhood. But until the birth of Urban Plant Research, I largely took for granted the strangeness of American suburban landscaping and the role plants play in setting the tone of this environment. This time I began to look.
Among tidily-kept lawn-shapes and bush sculptures, rock gardens and cement-scapes, here and there I found an errant wildness, like this lovely tree spouting fiery plumes from within the confines of a nondescript roof.