My Process

Cyanotype is one of photography's oldest printing processes, dating back to the 1840s and instantly recognizable by its deep Prussian blue. Every piece I make is a one-of-a-kind original, created with real botanicals, sunlight, and water. Here's how each one comes to life.

It starts in the garden

Most of my work begins in my own garden, where I grow the botanicals that appear in my pieces — Queen Anne's lace, lavender, and chamomile are favorites. When they're in season, I sometimes work with them fresh-picked; more often, I press and dry them to preserve them, so the garden can find its way into my work year round.

Coating by hand

I mix my own cyanotype chemistry and hand-paint it onto watercolor paper, specialty papers, or fabric. In the traditional process, the coated surface dries completely, leaving it light-sensitive — and ready.

Sunlight does the work

I arrange the botanicals on the coated surface, composing each piece by hand, then expose it to sunlight or UV light. Wherever light reaches the surface, it transforms the chemistry; wherever the plants block it, their silhouettes remain. This camera-less image is called a photogram — a direct impression of the plant itself, at true size.

Breaking the rules

Not every piece follows the traditional path. In my wet cyanotype work, I expose the piece while the chemistry is still wet on the paper — deliberately disrupting the controlled, predictable process in favor of adventurous rule-breaking and experimentation. I may pour or spray the chemistry irregularly, or introduce additives like natural inks, spices, vinegar, lemon juice, or salt. The results are unpredictable and serendipitous, with a far greater variety of tones and textures. In some pieces, called chemigrams, the chemistry and its interaction with additives and light become the subject matter itself.

The reveal

A wash in plain water rinses away the unexposed chemistry, and the image emerges in that signature blue. Over the next 24 hours, the color deepens as it oxidizes — a chemical reaction that becomes part of the paper itself. This is my favorite moment in the process: no two pieces ever develop quite the same way.

Beyond the blue

Once a piece is finished and dry, some works go further. I hand-paint over the developed image with watercolor and gouache, adding realistic color and transforming the piece into something between photograph and painting. Other works are toned with botanicals, shifting the traditional blue into unexpected hues.

Every piece in my gallery was made this way — by hand, with sunlight, one original at a time. If you'd like to see new work as it emerges from the wash, [join my newsletter].