"Iris Field with Sheep, Tangier", 2007
2007, wallpaper, size variable

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Iris Field with Sheep, Tangier", 2007
2007, wallpaper, size variable

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Field of Irises, Tangier", 2007
60 x 60 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Field of Irises, Tangier", 2007
60 x 60 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Bouquet of Irises, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, c-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Bouquet of Irises, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, c-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Vacant Lot, #2 Rue de Fes, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Vacant Lot, #2 Rue de Fes, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Iris Foetidissima, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Iris Foetidissima, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Literature Student, Perdicaris Forest", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Literature Student, Perdicaris Forest", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Sheep Market, daytime", 2007
C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Sheep Market, daytime", 2007
C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Oxalis Ladder Portrait, Perdicaris Forest", 2007
125 x 125 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Oxalis Ladder Portrait, Perdicaris Forest", 2007
125 x 125 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Field near Free-Zone, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Field near Free-Zone, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Three Eucalyptus Stumps, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Three Eucalyptus Stumps, Tangier", 2007
80 x 80 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"The Picnic, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec face, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"The Picnic, Tangier", 2007
100 x 100 cm, C-print on diasec face, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Déjeuner sur l'herbe, Perdicaris Forest, Rmilet, Tanger", 2007
2007, 150 x 150 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.
"Déjeuner sur l'herbe, Perdicaris Forest, Rmilet, Tanger", 2007
2007, 150 x 150 cm, C-print on diasec, framed

Iris Tingitana Project


IRIS TINGITANA is one of Tangier’s native flowers, and takes its name from the city’s Latin one. The Tingitane peninsula of northern Morocco is a place of great biodiversity, home to the highest concentration of indigenous species on the Mediterrenean. Since long before the Romans, human development has left its traces on this environment without defiing it. Over the past ten years, though, marketplaces, pastures, and formerly protected forests and historic buildings are being handed over to developers of hotels, housing, and shopping malls, in a fast-forward push to replicate the spanish Costa del Sol, a high-density suburban sprawl of mass sunshine tourism. The decisionmakers’ broader goal, conscious or not, is a new, clean, globally marketable Morocco in which the only indigenous species visible in public are those branded by modernity or neatly framed by their folkloric status. Wildflowers, like street kids, men napping in parks, roadside picnickers, farmers selling produce, and clandestine pastoral lovers, will soon have no place. Flowers are wrongly considered inherently poetic. Here they have quietly become political. The overnight appearance in Tangier’s traffic circles of thousands of pink geraniums, in aseasonal full bloom, or the quick march of imported palm trees from the south along the corniche of Tangier speak in botanical code of the new grammar of power. January is also the month in which the local Irises bloom, and this year, in in-between spaces ­ on rutted consruction sites, along incomplete highway spans and in the remaining graveyards and grasslands -- the surviving endangered wild iris, sage, and pines still bore stoic witness to their city’s irreversible transformation.