Plucking the Petals
of Dominik Tarabanski’s
Roses for Mother by Karen Wong

During the hundred years of the Dutch Golden Age, flower paintings emerged as a genre of delight and desirability. The burgeoning middle class created a demand for a dynasty of skilled painters whose masterful renderings of dozens of floral species infused religious and philosophical meanings into highly organized depictions. These arrangements felt abundant and wild as if they were bursting at the seams. They were lit with a dramatic ambiance, each blossom vying for attention against sumptuous velvety backgrounds.

One of the sought-after still life painters of that time was Rachel Ruysch (1664-1750), who began her illustrious career at fifteen and worked well into her 80s. Atypical of the period, Ruysch took the cut flowers out of the vase and placed the drooping stems on a stone slab creating seemingly casual yet compelling compositions.

Rachel Ruysch (1664-1750)

Still Life with Rose Branch, Beetle and Bee. 1741, Oil on canvas, Courtesy of Kunstmuseum Basel

One can trace the tension between the organic state and the obsessive control of this Dutch Golden Age painter to the present-day artist Dominik Tarabanski and his photographic series Roses for Mother. From 2018 to early 2020, after finishing his day job as a fashion photographer, he was left with the vestiges: unwanted flower displays, plastic bags, metal clips, gaffer tape, fruit nets, rubber bands, and twist ties. With these materials, the photographer pivots to a sculptor, substituting his animated human shape for a withering floral object. Like the still lifes of the Dutch Golden Age, Tarabanski constructs artful tableaus of beauty that belie an additional reading of melancholy and isolation. Leaning into an aestheticized anthropomorphism, he tapes and clips his subjects like a model of yesteryear. Tarabanski contorts, stretches, and molds his flower characters with a sense of humor and pathos, reflected in drooping petals like bowed heads shedding tears.

Tarabanski’s ability to choreograph his flower subjects recalls the work of Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858), the last master of the ukiyo-e tradition. Hiroshige’s woodblock prints and paintings often depicted flora, fauna, and landscapes of his travels. In his renderings of branches, birds, and fishes, Hiroshige employed strong diagonals that produced a sense of urgent movement. He was undoubtedly instructed by the tradition of ikebana (making flowers alive), emphasizing the totality of the floral specimen. Tarabanski has spent significant time in Japan, and by osmosis or deliberate homage, he uses a similar minimalistic language as Hiroshige, highlighting the slant of a leaf or the angle of a twig. His photographic results eschew the symmetry of classical flower arrangements for something stranger and operatic.

Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858)

Wagtail and Iris, 1830
woodcut print

One usually doesn’t associate sounds with flowers as foliage is silent in its ability to convey a range of dispositions. German artist Isa Genzken defies this broad assumption in her series of monumental public sculptures Roses and Two Orchids. Steel structures three stories high clear their throats and announce, “I am flower, see me roar.” By isolating each floral stalk and concentrating on nature’s architecture, Genzken achieves a sentinel-like authority via massive size. Tarabanski also leans into the flower’s structure and engineers a voice through his ability to manipulate his specimens as puppets, with stems outstretched and buds singing in unison, or a bloom calling out for love.

The enchantment in Roses for Mother is the activity that takes place before Tarabanski snaps the photograph, which ultimately is an archival product of an arduous creative process with numerous false starts and finishes. These diorama meditations require him to access a variety of skill sets; perhaps the most natural one is akin to the fashion designer. Key to the trade is the sculpting technique of draping fabric over a mannequin until a form materializes, such as balloon trousers or a couture dress.

Isa Genzken (1948)

Two Orchids, 2014/2015 Cast aluminum and stainless steel, lacquer, Courtesy of Parrish Art Museum

Rachel Ruysch (1664-1750)

Still life of Carnations, Hibiscus, Morning Glories, and other flowers on a ledge, with a butterfly, undated, oil on canvas

Tarabanski, with an array of remnants from his day shoots, spends hours nipping and tucking his flowers with clips and tape. In New York 2018, a wine cork is a counterweight for four pods of tiny floral spikes of Banksia hookeriana, a well-regarded blossom in the cut flower industry. Minute rubber bands hold the twigs in place while Tarabanski draws viewers’ eyes down to the roots with a single unopened Cyclamen bud. The artwork suggests that all life is a balancing act. The tortured composition of West Bengal 2020 features arcs combating verticals as a shriveling Etlingera blossom stands in for a fading sun, all while the cantaloupe moon readies for orbit. In Paris 2018, a single metal clip holds together an unlikely pair — a Medinilla magnifica with regal leaves embracing the delicate Lilium candidum. The Medinilla’s stork-like stance protecting the foundling gives rise to the motivation of this series: a son’s bond with his mother.

Karen Wong is the former Deputy Director of NYC’s New Museum and cofounder of GBA/Guilty By Association.

Roses for Mother

by Dominik Tarabański

Paris 2018
Medinilla magnifica, Lilium candidum and a metal paper clip

Singapore 2020
Alstroemeria ligtu, paper tape, rubber bands, a metal clip, a plastic net, a plastic tie, and glass

London 2019
Rosa kordesii, metal paper clips, gaffer tape, and rubbers

Brooklyn 2018
Phalaenopsis, Cortaderia selloana, Ipomoea batatas, Prūnum, tape, a rubber band, paper straw

Stockholm 2018
Phalaenopsis, Zantedeschia, a metal paper clip, a twist tie and a gaffer tape

Copenhagen 2020
Proteaceae Protea, Tradescantia pallida, Asparagus aethiopicus, a tape, a metal clip, a twist tie

West Bengal 2020
Etlingera, Heliconia rostrata, cantalupo, a gaffer tape, a quill, a nylon wire and rubber bands

Singapore 2020
Strelitzia nicolai, Heliconia rostrata, a gaffer tape and rubber bands

New York 2020
Lathyrus odoratus, a double-sided tape, adhesive tape, and a sheet of paper

New York 2018
Lilium orientalis, Aloe ferox, Sansevieria kirkii, gaffer tape, twine and a metal bottle cork

About Roses

There is a Polish expression:

“You can get infected by someone else’s optimism.”

Perhaps I was born optimistic, or I may have been slowly “infected” by my mother’s way of seeing the world. She finds the positive in any situation; even when it’s cold, gray, and raining outside, she will say:

“What a beautiful downpour!”

We are divided by thousands of kilometers, but what connects us is our shared love for life and the letters I send her while I travel. She can’t join me, although I would love to take her with me everywhere.

It is she who taught me how to be curious, look for beauty, and pursue the joy of life. A part of her continues to push me forward, and in return, I send her fragments of the world I see.

Created in solitude, enclosed in the act of photography—my arrangements of space, the fragile, temporary sculptures with a short lifespan—built inside hotel rooms and places I have stayed for the night.

I collect sticks and flowers and compose them patiently, using what I bring home with me from the grocery store.

Minor, ordinary marks of daily life: a used-to-be asparagus rubber belt holding a bunch of chubby greens together, plastic veils covering the faces of fruit, twisted ties.

The sticks snap, the flowers bend and die, rubber bands break, tape fails to hold the composition, and things fall apart before I’m able to capture their image. I sit there, patiently starting over, humbled by the process that asks for patience, and I never forget who told me to believe that everything is possible.

I would love to show my mother all the capitals of the world. Until I can do this, I will continue to share my letters with her—the images of flowers I collect along the way—Roses for Mother.

Woodstock 2018
Nepenthes alata, Lathyrus odoratus, Iris germanica, a gaffer tape, and rubber bands

Warsaw 2018
Metrosideros excelsa, Papaver somniferum Hippeastrum amaryllidaceae and a rubber band

London 2018
Annona muricata, Paeonia officinalis, gaffer tape, a rubber band and a metal clamp

Himalayas 2020
Nelumbium speciosum, gaffer tape, twist ties, metal paper clips, and rubber bands

New York 2018
Banksia hookeriana, Cyclamen a gaffer tape, a wine cork and rubber bands

Tokyo 2019
Cypripedium pubescens, plastic fruit nets, pins, gaffer tape, twist ties, and a ceramic saucer

Miami 2019
Paeonia lactiflora, Anthurium, gaffer tapes, a cotton rope, plastic nets, two marble cylindersties

San Diego 2020
Strelitzia, a gaffer tape, a plastic bag, and a marble cylinder

New York 2018
Cotinus coggygria, Iris germanica, a gaffer tape, metal paper clips and rubber bands

Exhibitions

2022

Zitadelle Spandau Centre for Contemporary Art
Berlin, Germany

2020

The Gallery of National Philharmonic Hall
Szczecin, Poland

2019

6x7 Gallery Warsaw
Warsaw, Poland

1. Paris 2018 — 2. Copenhagen 2020, — 3. West Bengal 2020 — 4. New York 2018 — 5. New York 2018 — 6. Singapore 2020 — 7. Avery Island 2019
8. Stockholm 2018 — 9. Brooklyn 2018 — 10. Woodstock 2018 — 11. Warsaw 2018 — 12. San Diego 2020 — 13. New York 2020 — 14. Singapore 2020
15. London 2019 — 16. Himalayas 2020 — 17. Key West 2019 — 18. Miami 2019 — 19. London 2018 — 20. New York 2018 — 21. Tokyo 2019

Editions

Artworks are available in limited editions. Pricing upon request.