The process itself is easy, loose, and instantly satisfyingly. We began by roaming the alley behind the Morgan, clipping bits of bushes and flowers, picking up any random piece of metal that might be lying on the ground. We then folded these bits of leaves and petals, found objects and ephemera into bundles of paper. We secured the packages with bits of string and wire, metal clips and scraps of fabric. The bundles were then covered with water and cooked in a large metal pot. A lliquor of botanical juices was produced for the bundles to marinate in and the smell enveloped us as we worked, earthy and aromatic.
The prints that resulted are both gritty and breathtakingly beautiful. I think what's so magical about the process is that it's more than the sum of its parts. You combine these simple, organic materials and wind up with something that is malleable, growing, alive. I thought my ecoprints were impressive when I first undid the ties of my freshly cooked bundles, but just a few short hours later, when I unpacked the weekend's stash of prints at home, I was amazed by how much they had changed. The printed shapes were more defined and the colors had continued to develop, like a photograph. I'm sure they will only get better with time.