The Allotment Labyrinth
Analoque photos of the second growing season, july & august 2023
The second growing season of the labyrinth unfolded as a dynamic interplay between control and surrender. Plants from the previous year reemerged naturally, self-seeding and establishing themselves in unexpected places, creating surprising combinations and layers of growth. Alongside them, weeds took root and grew vigorously, asserting their presence and reminding us of nature’s persistence, resilience, and autonomy.
This season was defined by a constant negotiation: when to intervene and when to step back, when to guide growth and when to allow it to follow its own course. The garden expanded beyond the paths initially laid out, growing into uncharted corners and weaving into spaces left untouched. In this tension between intention and spontaneity, unexpected beauty emerged — wild, untamed, and unstructured, yet deeply compelling.
Amid the interplay of planning and self-willed growth, the labyrinth became a space where human care and the autonomy of the living world coexist. Overgrowth, entanglement, and emergent forms revealed that unpredictability itself can give rise to beauty, and that growth beyond the expected paths carries its own richness, vitality, and energy. The season highlighted the delicate balance between shaping a garden and being shaped by it, where attention, patience, and receptivity are as crucial as intervention.
After this second season, I decided to step away from the labyrinth at Hoogcruts. The increasingly wild and untamed character of the garden did not align with the expectations of the site’s caretakers, and I was not willing to compromise the project’s integrity or its approach to natural growth. Rather than altering its character, I chose to continue this exploration elsewhere, developing the project in collaboration with Beatrice Pittman as Project Wilgenvrouwen. This new iteration allows us to pursue the same themes of cultivation, reciprocity, and relational engagement with the land — including gardening, sharing food, and artistic practice — in a context that embraces spontaneity and wildness as essential elements of the work.
This season was defined by a constant negotiation: when to intervene and when to step back, when to guide growth and when to allow it to follow its own course. The garden expanded beyond the paths initially laid out, growing into uncharted corners and weaving into spaces left untouched. In this tension between intention and spontaneity, unexpected beauty emerged — wild, untamed, and unstructured, yet deeply compelling.
Amid the interplay of planning and self-willed growth, the labyrinth became a space where human care and the autonomy of the living world coexist. Overgrowth, entanglement, and emergent forms revealed that unpredictability itself can give rise to beauty, and that growth beyond the expected paths carries its own richness, vitality, and energy. The season highlighted the delicate balance between shaping a garden and being shaped by it, where attention, patience, and receptivity are as crucial as intervention.
After this second season, I decided to step away from the labyrinth at Hoogcruts. The increasingly wild and untamed character of the garden did not align with the expectations of the site’s caretakers, and I was not willing to compromise the project’s integrity or its approach to natural growth. Rather than altering its character, I chose to continue this exploration elsewhere, developing the project in collaboration with Beatrice Pittman as Project Wilgenvrouwen. This new iteration allows us to pursue the same themes of cultivation, reciprocity, and relational engagement with the land — including gardening, sharing food, and artistic practice — in a context that embraces spontaneity and wildness as essential elements of the work.
