Field Studies Flora

Photography by Billal Taright & Kristina Dittmar

Alex foraging in Montauk for Roman and Williams. Photo by Billal Taright.

"We often forget that we too are nature, not separate from it. The entire planet is based on reciprocal systems; a togetherness of life from fruit flies to swamp cabbage. A healthy ecosystem is one where there is mutual flourishing." - Alex Crowder

A corner of the Field Studies' studio in it's natural state: dried flora hanging from the ceiling, books and notes strewn about the desk. Photo by Kristina Dittmar.

What do you collect?

Lichen, rocks, seed pods and out-of-print books on plants. I’ve ferried all of these things home from distances great and small, either in my pockets or in my luggage.

You have a way of finding beauty in the unexpected.  For this collection you've chosen a battery acid jar, leech bowl, and champagne bucket as vases, and in your work, you push us to reimagine what we think of as florals.  What has inspired this approach and why is it important to you? 

At the studio, we describe what we do first and foremost as a “school of thought.” With every choice we make, we’re trying to teach people, or remind them, to absorb the wonder of nature that often fades into the background of daily life. Our syllabus is guided by a way of seeing and understanding your environment not as a dismissible backdrop but as a character actor in the larger story of the ecosystem. When you do this, the already-miraculous vastness of the natural world quadruples, widening your eyes to the reality that flowers and plants aren’t decoration but a life force that feeds into everything. 

How you “arrange” them should follow this path of thinking, leaning into the expansive nature of it all instead of trying to put it in a tidy box or in a coat of cellophane. You don’t need a dozen roses or a crystal vase to make an evocative arrangement! Throw out the rulebook, experiment and work with what’s around you. Embracing the unexpected; that’s really what it’s all about. 

You are based in New York, and limit the botanicals you use to those grown within 200 miles of your studio. What do you love about working in New York, and what challenges do you face? 

Though I dream of spending more time in the countryside where my soul is happiest, I love New York City and could never fully part with it. It’s an incubator here. My team gets to work with people at the top of their fields nearly everyday — leaders and disruptors in the world of design, fashion, and art. All of these people have helped me, and us, gain a platform that I surely would not have had anywhere else. 

Moving flora around this city is a huge challenge. It’s no small feat hauling a bail of weeping willow up several flights of stairs. Because it’s difficult for some of the best growers in this area to get their goods into the market or even the city, we often have to go to them. Though this is changing. And as much as I adore the flower market, and the people who work there, you couldn’t get further from the natural state of flowers - plastic wrapped bundles of blooms stacked on metal carts in cold storefronts with buzzing fluorescents in an area of Chelsea with constant construction. It’s a far cry from a flower farm or meadow. 

For four years I was strident about not using flora outside of a 200 mile radius from the city — a calling card we became known for — and last year, I evolved that policy. 

There’s a lot to unpack here, so I’ll start from the beginning: the locality restriction started as a way to better understand and support the local landscape. I grew up in Missouri, in the Ozark Mountains, with access to a lot of open space and time to wander through nature. That landscape had a huge impact on me and much of it has informed the work I do now. However, trying to replicate that in urbanity, without a thorough understanding of the natural landscape of the northeast, felt disingenuous. The NYC floral market is incredible, there are unreal varieties of flora from around the world and great local flora too. But unless you spend time studying the local terrain, it’s hard to distinguish local from nonlocal. I had to find a way to stay connected to my creative source - the landscape of where I am. Limiting what I could use, forced me to build relationships with people who could teach me exactly that: farmers, foragers, gardeners, land-stewards, vendors who knew their local sources. This firm boundary forced me to prioritize flora that is often overlooked by traditional floristry and to go outside the flower market and into the landscape. In doing so, it set my work apart from others’.

As of here and now, I’ve shifted the studio’s sourcing practices to include international growers who can help us make it through the colder months, when most local farmers and foragers aren’t producing many, if any, blooms. My team and I are tweaking how we make this transition to ensure it protects the larger plot of our intentions, because at the root of it, nothing has changed. Last fall, I shared more on this subject in a seasonal essay (we share these every few months) that referenced my friend Franco Fubini of Natoora who opened my eyes to the concept of "flower miles." In his book, In Search of the Perfect Peach, he speaks to the misunderstanding of "food miles" with an anecdote about tomatoes that reveals how going local isn't always as righteous as you may think it is. It’s an extraordinarily insightful read for anyone interested in how to protect the earth’s abundant, though exhausted, resources.   

One of the baskets you chose for our collection is made from Kudzu, an invasive species to North America.  What is your relationship to invasives? 

I’m fascinated by them; I think we have a lot to learn from them and the potential for collaboration is endless. They are highly intelligent plants that have evolved to thrive and outcompete many other species, generally natives, in the anthropocene. The idea that invasive equates to evil doesn’t jive with me. I’m much more of the mindset that when the earth speaks in abundance we ought to listen. A lot of invasives (flora and fauna) can be culinarily controlled. Invasive to me, means out of balance. We humans created the conditions for this to happen and we need to take a lot more responsibility for our part in that. If these species can be controlled by cutting them, eating them or using them in basketry for example, how else might we utilize them? Floristry, an art that showcases the natural world, should be at the front of this conversation, providing beauty that’s solution-oriented.

I did an installation a few years ago in Copenhagen using Phragmites. Here it’s an invasive that’s overtaken thousands of acres of wetland. Currently the most applied method of control is the use of herbicides which can poison groundwater and cause massive ecosystem disruption, including harm to humans. In Copenhagen and surrounding countries, the reed of Phragmites is used in the thatched roofing trade. It’s kept under control by a clever use, and even protected from cutting during a portion of the year so animals, particularly birds, can take shelter in its dense clusters. How beautiful is that? 

How are you inspired by nature?

We often forget that we too are nature, not separate from it. The entire planet is based on reciprocal systems; a togetherness of life from fruit flies to swamp cabbage. A healthy ecosystem is one where there is mutual flourishing. Resources are shared and each species plays its part. Nature’s ability to innovate, to evolve, and to adapt in the way that it does is endlessly inspiring and promising for how we humans can move forward into the future. In this stage of climate change, with such uncertainty, we have to sink into this mindset. The plants that have thrived on our planet for long periods (hundreds, thousands and millions of years), are those that have learned to be in collaboration with another or several other species. Like the symbiotic relationship between milkweed and Monarch butterflies, we all have to learn how to exist here together.

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A diorama made from studio leftovers by Field Studies' lead florist, Kadie. Photo by Field Studies.

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