I photographed these big old beauties over a number of days as they weathered in an old Crown Lynn vase.

I couldn’t decide if I loved the soft burnished caramel hues or the black and white so decided to release an edition on both.

I very much hope they move you as they do me.

I come from a long line of floral magnets and I guess most influenced by my late Mother, Pam.

She was a keen gardener and growing up in Wellington, I was often witness to her frustration as the wind bore down on her blooms … year after year.

A weathered bloom is probably my most favourite stage of these beauties.

Dutch Love was inspired by a large oil painting of white roses that hung in my Great-Aunt’s house. She was a fairly prolific still life New Zealand painter, back in the 1940’s and 50’s. Arranged in an old black Crown Lynn urn, these soft, gossamer-like Iceberg roses draw you in deeply.

This gorgeous old Hybrid Tea rose, I captured in a friend’s garden. The bush is so prolific when in bloom, hanging heavy under the abundance of these heavenly creatures, week after week. Truly Endless…

And yes I guess I do have a rather large obsession for roses.

From my earlier Hydrangea series, Inner Beauty reflects the importance of a pretty heart and a pretty soul. These beauties, picked from a friend’s lovely garden, have always been a favourite of mine. And like a lot of this work, I adore the lush colours and play of light on dark.

‘In the Pink’ doesn’t really need too much introduction.

I sprayed this old urn of my Grandmother’s a hot pink. She would have loved that! She was of Māori decent and was always attracted to eye-watering bright colours. So Gran, our Taranaki Queen … this one’s for you.

Spilling over with the abundance of Crabapples from our garden, it sure makes a statement. It’s an installation in itself.

Did you know the noble Dahlia is native to the high plain regions of Mexico and was imported across to Europe in the late 18th Century? I captured this huge, regal beauty in the wee botanical gardens in Hastings, Hawke’s Bay where we now live. Early morning dog walks, armed with my lens, inevitably deliver dewy, botanical abundance in very soft light.

I captured this shot after grappling with an old wire flower-stay of my Mother’s, for what seemed like hours. These stays, along with metal and glass flower holders, were used back in the day, prior to oasis and the far easier flower arranging techniques used today.

Anyway, after walking away in frustration and leaving it be, I wandered back into my studio, as the soft afternoon light was falling, and there was my shot.

It’s true to say, that as an artist, to step away from your work and to return, usually offers a fresh eye and further inspiration.

This fabulous Dartmouth Devon urn of my Grandmother’s, fell prey to a little paint zhooshing, and like the other refurbs. I have done, Gran would have been up for a ‘zhoosh’ in a bright colour!

These soft, ageing, billowing Iceberg roses were the perfect storm for this teacup.

I left these stunning Comte de Champagne, David Austen roses for a good few days, to open and soften. I adored their voluminous, soft blush tones playing on the dark background. Their time was brief and precious, but so memorable. And like many wonderful things, they needed to leave so they could come again and visit…

The Shorter and Son vase belonged to my Great-Aunt, herself an artist.

It was always billowing over with flowers, as she sat painting at her easel.

Here, Aotearoa, Peace and Compassion roses, by tradition, grace this very large urn.

Soft, dreamy Icebergs and a promising Peace rosebud fade gently and almost whimsically into darkness. I always feel a little regretful after spending long periods of time with these blooms, knowing that their life will be short.

I think that’s why I love capturing them in all their stages of ageing beauty, but always remind myself how lucky we are that they will come again.