Jaded types might consider Habing”s work sentimental to the brink of preciousness, but I find her pictures to be quiet, evocative celebrations of the interconnectivity of everything — of the humbling fact that each mote is indivisible from the whole. In photographs of a gardener”s gloves overflowing with tobacco hornworms or a picture of Habing”s son taking cover in a low forest of mayapple, Habing”s earnest appreciation for, in her words, “this good earth we all share” is manifest.
When I read one of Habing”s statements about her work —
“Ever since I can remember, I”ve been taught to love nature. I was encouraged to explore the land we lived on, to walk through woods and wander through meadows, to casino treat the earth gently and respect my fellow creatures. The smallest of animals are of import, and even weeds have purpose. I now teach my son the same, that this beautiful earth is a gift we”ve all been given and it”s our job to be good stewards, not only for us but for future generations.”
— the following excerpt from one of my older statements came to mind.
“Growing up on the rural Delmarva Peninsula, I became acquainted with the local flora and fauna at a young age. Whether working at field chores, hunting, fishing, or simply playing, my outdoors experiences were akin to the Wonderland exploits of Lewis Carroll’s Alice. Carroll’s premise, that “things get curiouser and curiouser,” guided me through many a childhood adventure. I anthropomorphized animals and cast them as key players in an epic production of which I, too, was a part. For me, as for Alice, the natural world was enchanted and ethical in an unsentimental way.”
I”m almost certainly projecting, but Habing”s pictures have convinced me she is a kindred spirit.
I look forward to following her projects.