Fake Flowers by Terry Marasco
In 1997 I was housed in an executive suite in Beverly Hills. Upon walking in for the first
time, I became mildly nauseous. “A cold coming on?” I thought. In moments the culprit
became clear: I was unconsciously affected by the artificial flowers throughout the 5 rooms
of the suite.
Some years before that, I experienced an epiphany about my relationship with the natural
world. Until that time I was a thoughtful observer of the way nature works. Oh I burned ants
with a magnifying glass when I was young, but came to a certain respect of life by high
school. I walked spiders out of my home yet whacked mosquitoes which were dining on me.
I have not used insecticides in my homes in 25 years as vinegar does the trick in keeping the
buggers at bay. I despise “snail-death” in name and function.
Then something happened. One day, while waiting for a train in San Leandro California, I
looked to the south west and saw nothing but concrete and wires until the low hills on the
other side of San Francisco Bay. From that angle there was not a shred of plant life. Again,
the instinctive visceral displeasure welled, and I said: “What are they doing to us?” I had made
a transition to the other side – I became a natural being who was responding to the assault
upon himself, his being, his nature.
Fake flowers are troubling. They indicate to me that people are becoming satisfied with
representations of nature rather than nature itself. As I see it both zoos and botanical
gardens do not bode well for the natural world. Containing animals and plants moves us
closer to allowing their demise in their natural settings. Fake plants pose a more
problematical question as they are not real. My concern is that we becoming satisfied with a
representation rather than the real thing? Will stuffed bears replace live bears in zoos? That
is happening; the new Mammal Hall at the Smithsonian moves us closer to dead containment
– stuff and display, avoid the mess.
Humans are filled with complicated contradictions about nature. We want to protect the
Caribou in the Anwar Preserve in Alaska yet also cage them in zoos which pretty much
results in mistreatment. We eat chickens that have suffered unbelievable pain and other
suffering while being raised in cages. We spare endangered species in the oceans yet eat a fish
that has experienced the terror and pain of a hook in its mouth. We wear the furs of tortured
animals knowing wool will protect just as well.
There is a café in San Francisco that alludes to the “organic” quality of its produce and meats.
Organic suggests care for the land and the animals that feed us. Their meats are from Niman
Ranch (where “livestock are humanely treated”). They serve foie gras…
I still occasionally eat the wrong chicken. I am one of “them” of this time and place. I am
frustrated and challenged with having become two beings.
Now we decorate with fake flowers for convenience. We replace the real with the artificial –
“I love nature but don’t get any of it on me”. In Winter Park, Florida there is a home with
fake shrubbery and a quartz rock field underlain by vinyl so the “weeds” don’t grow. There
are potted fake flowers and shrubs under the windows and on the porch, and completely
around the yard. I nearly ran my car off the road, stopped and stared in disbelief, the air
rushed out of my lungs in a long sigh. The fake plants had crawled out of the house into the
garden.
The march of the fake flowers is inexorable. Here they come. We are doomed.
In 1997 I was housed in an executive suite in Beverly Hills. Upon walking in for the first
time, I became mildly nauseous. “A cold coming on?” I thought. In moments the culprit
became clear: I was unconsciously affected by the artificial flowers throughout the 5 rooms
of the suite.
Some years before that, I experienced an epiphany about my relationship with the natural
world. Until that time I was a thoughtful observer of the way nature works. Oh I burned ants
with a magnifying glass when I was young, but came to a certain respect of life by high
school. I walked spiders out of my home yet whacked mosquitoes which were dining on me.
I have not used insecticides in my homes in 25 years as vinegar does the trick in keeping the
buggers at bay. I despise “snail-death” in name and function.
Then something happened. One day, while waiting for a train in San Leandro California, I
looked to the south west and saw nothing but concrete and wires until the low hills on the
other side of San Francisco Bay. From that angle there was not a shred of plant life. Again,
the instinctive visceral displeasure welled, and I said: “What are they doing to us?” I had made
a transition to the other side – I became a natural being who was responding to the assault
upon himself, his being, his nature.
Fake flowers are troubling. They indicate to me that people are becoming satisfied with
representations of nature rather than nature itself. As I see it both zoos and botanical
gardens do not bode well for the natural world. Containing animals and plants moves us
closer to allowing their demise in their natural settings. Fake plants pose a more
problematical question as they are not real. My concern is that we becoming satisfied with a
representation rather than the real thing? Will stuffed bears replace live bears in zoos? That
is happening; the new Mammal Hall at the Smithsonian moves us closer to dead containment
– stuff and display, avoid the mess.
Humans are filled with complicated contradictions about nature. We want to protect the
Caribou in the Anwar Preserve in Alaska yet also cage them in zoos which pretty much
results in mistreatment. We eat chickens that have suffered unbelievable pain and other
suffering while being raised in cages. We spare endangered species in the oceans yet eat a fish
that has experienced the terror and pain of a hook in its mouth. We wear the furs of tortured
animals knowing wool will protect just as well.
There is a café in San Francisco that alludes to the “organic” quality of its produce and meats.
Organic suggests care for the land and the animals that feed us. Their meats are from Niman
Ranch (where “livestock are humanely treated”). They serve foie gras…
I still occasionally eat the wrong chicken. I am one of “them” of this time and place. I am
frustrated and challenged with having become two beings.
Now we decorate with fake flowers for convenience. We replace the real with the artificial –
“I love nature but don’t get any of it on me”. In Winter Park, Florida there is a home with
fake shrubbery and a quartz rock field underlain by vinyl so the “weeds” don’t grow. There
are potted fake flowers and shrubs under the windows and on the porch, and completely
around the yard. I nearly ran my car off the road, stopped and stared in disbelief, the air
rushed out of my lungs in a long sigh. The fake plants had crawled out of the house into the
garden.
The march of the fake flowers is inexorable. Here they come. We are doomed.
 | |  | |  | |  |