Cultivated Chaos unites the work of three unique artists, each interpreting plant life through diverse techniques—from ceramics and cyanotypes to painting and mixed-media collage.The artists share snippets of their favorite gardens, whether carefully cultivated or wildly untamed - to explore the many stages of growth and decay. From the emergence of new growth to exuberant flourish, decay and quiet renewal. Together the work forms a living tableau, an organic array that celebrates the beauty of impermanence and the perpetual life cycle in the garden. Whether rough or refined, chaotic or composed, this exhibition invites viewers to linger in the in-between spaces—where growth meets decay, and endings are never truly final.

Read on below to learn more about each of these artists and their process and get the answers to a few of our questions.

Cora Morris is best known for her cyanotypes enhanced with hand painting, a process that merges historic photographic techniques with contemporary mark-making. Using environmentally conscious, light-sensitive chemicals, she exposes locally gathered plant life to sunlight, allowing nature to actively participate in the creation of each piece. Once developed, she hand-paints and layers the surface, building depth, texture, and personal gestures. Morris’s collection of work included in Cultivated Chaos is inspired by the water gardens of Giverny and the Biltmore Estate - places whose beauty is inextricably linked to their rich histories. Through the  interplay of cyanotype and water-based media, Morris’s work celebrates the continuity of care, creativity, and observation that allows beauty to endure.

The creative process and manipulation of materials fuels Teresa Roche’s work. Her paintings are not planned but are the result of experimentation and working with a combination of unlikely materials. Roche’s work often reflects a period of time or a memory, but the process of allowing paint, tools, and materials to come together in unexpected ways produces an abstracted form of a vivid recollection. Roche often pours high flow acrylics combined with water onto a surface which is a way of going into the painting – the pouring acts as a stain whether on paper, wood or canvas. Charcoal, pastels, and conte' are added in both the wet and the dry phase of the painting. In the final stages of a piece, Roche tears papers and fabrics that she re-connects to the surface with thread, constantly working the resolution of the piece as though it's a puzzle. 

Laurel Siwicki’s recent work signals a shift in her practice from figurative sculpture to expansive floral landscapes formed from clay. This departure marks a move away from the human figure and toward an exploration of nature as a living, evolving presence - one shaped by resilience, chance, and quiet transformation. Siwicki’s work is rooted in close observation of natural shifts, particularly the ways plants adapt, migrate, and flourish in unexpected places. The body of work included in Cultivated Chaos is inspired by flora growing in overlooked or uncultivated environments like roadsides, cracks in pavement, abandoned lots—places where gardens are not planned but emerge nonetheless. Through sculpted ceramic forms and carefully porcelain-dipped botanical elements collected from these sites, immersive landscapes that blur the line between the natural and the constructed emerge. Siwicki’s works consider the idea that gardens can exist anywhere, thriving beyond traditional boundaries. In translating these fleeting moments into clay, Siwicki’s practice becomes an act of preservation, honoring growth that is both fragile and tenacious.

Q: Can you explain how the cyanotype process works?  

CORA: The cyanotype process is an early photographic technique that uses light-sensitive chemicals and sunlight to create images. I start by coating paper or fabric with the solution and then place

leaves, flowers, or other natural materials on top and expose it to the sun. The sunlight turns the

exposed areas a rich, deep blue, while the areas where the plants or objects were resting remain white, creating a silhouette. After rinsing in water, the image is revealed, with the shapes of the objects clearly visible against a vivid Prussian blue background.

Q: What role do gardens play in your life and work, and how does that translate to this show?

TERESA: Gardens have always been a constant in my life - passed down from my grandmother, through my mother, and now tended by me. Gardens have shaped not just what I see, but how I see.  

I love gardens in every phase - they are in a constant state of becoming. The blooms are beautiful but it is more than that -- I often see flowers tossed aside after an event or a wedding and I wonder, "Where do the flowers go?" I once saw the Madrid Botanical Gardens in the heat of the summer. Somehow, I saw so much beauty in the parched and dried blooms and leaves - the colors were different and better.

Q:  Your recent work shifts from figurative sculptural pieces to expansive floral landscapes formed from clay.  What prompted you to make this shift? Do you think you’ll keep going with the landscapes for a while or are you ready to return to the figure?

LAUREL: Floral elements have long been woven into my figurative work, but for this exhibit I wanted to give them the full spotlight—allowing viewers to experience them on their own terms, without the figure as the primary anchor. It was a fun process allowing floral landscapes become their own story.

This shift has been energizing, and I’m enjoying exploring this new direction. I don’t see it as choosing one path over the other, though. Instead, it opens another avenue for me to move between—letting the figure and the florals inform each other in new ways.

Q: How do you choose the plant life that you use in your cyanotypes? Are you drawn to the plant for its shape and the way it will look in the cyanotype or do you choose plants because they’re meaningful to you in some way?

CORA: Simply put, I’m drawn to whatever environment I’m in—whether it’s my current home in the Southeast, my birthplace in the Northeast, or somewhere in my travels. 

I’m naturally curious about the plants I find and what they might become in a cyanotype. Sometimes it’s their shape or structure that catches my eye, and other times it’s the feeling or sense of place they carry. What excites me most is the sense of possibility they bring, and how they translate into my final painted cyanotypes, continuing to evolve and challenge me throughout the creative process.

Q:  Did you find that working with the other artists in the exhibition to create a cohesive theme provided inspiration and sparked ideas or was it challenging to your creative process?

TERESA: I never find it challenging to work with other artists; I love collaborating and doing shows with other people.  I have been so encouraged and inspired by Laurel and Cora and doing this show with them was a beautiful and productive experience.  I love how we captured the garden in every phase and explored how gardens can be simultaneously tight and neat yet cultivated and free.

Q: You often include found materials in your ceramic sculptures. How do you choose the materials that make it into your work? Do you know when you find something interesting that you want to incorporate into your work?

LAUREL: I love the process of discovering the found materials that eventually become part of my ceramic sculptures. These objects don’t just add visual interest—they carry stories. I’m always drawn to pieces that feel like they’ve lived a real life in someone’s home, objects with a quiet history embedded in their surfaces. When I find something like that, I can almost imagine the rooms it sat in, the hands that used it, the moments it witnessed.

I collect these materials with the intention of continuing their story. Some pieces immediately spark an idea and find their place in a sculpture right away. Others rest in my studio for months or even years until the right moment arrives—when their history, shape, and texture align with the narrative I’m building. Eventually, the object and the clay meet in a way that feels inevitable, and together they become one story.