Nobody has ever taught a sunflower restraint.
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500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Estate series · 16 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 080 of 100.
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It will stand four times your height. It will turn its head all morning to follow the sun the way a class of well-trained pupils tracks a teacher. It will be louder, in colour, than anything else in the field without ever raising its voice. At the end of August it will drop a thousand seeds, most of which somebody else will eat by October.
Two of them in a field somewhere in Italy, in the last weeks of their work. The sky behind them has started to soften. The harvest is close. Nobody has ever taught one of these any restraint and nobody is going to start now.
A natural fit for East of Eden by John Steinbeck, Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus, or any book read in the last full week of summer.
The summers you actually remember are usually three or four days of one specific summer. A particular town. A particular light. A particular evening when nobody was in a hurry. The rest of June, July, and August blurs into a single warm continent of weeks. The point is that those three or four days happened, and that the year refused to end for as long as they lasted. You spend the rest of the year hoping to bump into them again.
