Backyard landscapes are intimate moments of control within controlled suburban blocks. In these sites, eating and feeding and growing and rotting unfold in close proximity. This small space is filled with chickens and orchards, eggs and apricots, shells and stones. Things replicate and reproduce, and with each cycle the site is remade. Weeds and grass overtake our home and push through the gaps under the doors, tiny flies escape from our fruit scraps.
Here our relations are formed, new spaces where soft cloth holds ripe fruit, where replication is both and organic and mechanical, where the refuse of jam making houses the possibility of an orchard. These objects are a deliberate moment of care, focus and attention. Surrounded by hundreds of pockets carefully sewn to hold apricot stones, companion species each dictate the next step to the other