Andrew Whittle on Netflix’s The Big Flower Fight
At the beginning of lockdown 2020, many of us were glued to our screens watching Netflix’s Big Flower Fight. In it, contestants were pushed to their creative limits, racing against the clock to conceive and create enormous horticultural installations. There were giant insects and sea creatures; there were edible thrones and fairytale-esque dwellings. It has been described as the gardening world’s answer to The Great British Bake Off, but it’s wilder than that. Though perhaps less accessible than its baking counterpart, I found the large-scale floral creations an inspiration; they were created with limited time using grasses, flowers, and found things, a testament to what can be created from nothing, if we adopt a new way of thinking and seeing. Contestants Andrew Whittle and Ryan Lanji won the competition with their otherworldly structures. Neither were florists, but their artistry and craftsmanship translated well to this new medium. On seeing the fairytale cottage and Merlin’s throne, I wondered whether Andrew and Ryan were interested in the esoteric. Via his Instagram, Andrew has shared photographs of Neolithic standing stones, an interest in ley lines and folklore. I had to enquire further, and Andrew kindly agreed to have a chat about being on the show, his occult inspirations, and the final prize, work commissioned by Kew Gardens.
Original sketch of Merlin’s throne, © Andrew Whittle
Elizabeth Kim What was it like being in the Big Flower Fight?
Andrew Whittle The Big Flower fight was an opportunity that came out of nowhere. Upon arrival it was clear that we were surrounded by expert horticulturalists, people that know the world of plants by name and the ecosystems they create. I have only ever had an instinctual relationship with plants; as a child I spent most of my time in the woods tending small gardens I had compiled from the wild, building dens, treehouses, and training wild roses to conceal them.
EK That sounds like a wonderful childhood. It was often repeated during the show that you and Ryan weren’t florists; you’re artists. Was it very different working in a new medium?
AW A slight imposter’s syndrome crept in as the lack of plant knowledge became apparent. However, they became a new medium to work with; they become textures and colours, ready to be woven together into a tapestry creating illusion.
EK One criticism of the show was that unlike cakes on the Great British Bake off, people don’t just try their hand at making giant animals made of grass, flowers and recycled goods—but you did it and under a strict time limit. Were you thinking this big before the Big Flower Fight, and has it in any way changed what you thought you were capable of? What would you say to people who want to try their hand at gardening, or creating extravagant floral installations?
AW The scale of the pieces were immense, and as a participant who didn’t really know what was going to be presented I couldn’t help but be excited—it’s a rare opportunity to go hard or go home and really fun. The time constraints were difficult but i developed practices that helped during the show, I would take time out to meditate in a small garden I found around the back of the house which dissolved the chaos and allowed me to work within the time parameters we had—which were extremely tight.
Not everybody will get the opportunity to build on this scale—they are generally show pieces. One thing I would suggest to people is to use some of the ideas within their garden, like texture and colour. The use of waste material (the Sea Horse), a wild flower meadow (the Bee), grass garden (the Boar), undulating surfaces (the T-rex). I wouldn’t be fooled by the initial impact—these sculptures aren’t built to last much more than a month. However it is possible to create sculpture from other materials that can become a part of the garden, use them to grow around, up, and on. The natural materials are the best way to do this—they create habitats for many species and have little to no impact on the environment—or use waste materials that do not biodegrade as a means of suspending them outside of the ecosystem where they create as little damage as possible.
EK I loved Merlin's throne. The attention to detail was incredible, from the edible herbs to Merlin’s face pushing through the rock. How much time did you have to conceive it, research it, and what ideas went into it?
AW Merlin’s Throne was the passion project for me, I have worked closely with neolithic sites in England and Northern France in previous projects. These monuments function as antennae, placed on nodes on the Earths energy grid and are able to alter our perceptions. The idea of Merlin’s memory being embodied in the stone was fun, I wanted somehow to show the memory of quartz and create an apothecary garden. The show was a playful environment and it was interesting and fun to place these ideas within that context.
EK I had a look through your Instagram posts, and there’s so much there that would interest our readers, including those Neolithic structures, stone circles and ley lines. What first made you interested in the numinous? Is much of your art inspired by these ideas?
AW I would say that my interest in the numinous developed quite early through a fascination with mythology and much time observing nature outdoors and feeling a part of it. When I was young I spent many nights floating in a black abyss with no body; I was looking for something. It developed considerably whilst finishing my degree; I was reducing photography to its most minimal. This led to a lot of research into the atheistic world of science (nothingness) which didn’t suffice, so instead I turned to alchemical and ancient texts that drew me towards a more intrinsic way of seeing and feeling my experience here. Around this time I also had a bout of seeing UFOs—these experiences took some reconfiguring of thought. As my perceptions changed, the ability to see reality and experience as something that can be manipulated grew, and that I understood as the source of magic.
Much of my work is inspired by The Great Work. Alchemy and reduction/purification to me are intrinsic to the photographic work that I do, with light being the main medium. I think any exposure to these ideas can begin a transformation. I believe there is a universally felt absence derived from a detachment with nature. A regressive future could lead to a reconnection and further symbiosis with the planet. I do not deny the potential of science and forward thinking to help us achieve this—anything we learn from history is manipulated by all the events that occurred between then and now, therefore our re-application of it would not be exact; I mean regressive perhaps in that we should shed a lot of the syntactic way of thinking we have now in terms of how we treat the planet.
EK We resonate with that feeling of disconnection from the natural world, which leads me to The Whale you created out of beach waste, repurposed for longevity. Can you tell us more about your Kew Gardens commission?
AW The final prize—The Whale at Kew—was a great project and opportunity. Beach Guardians are a charity in Cornwall who provided all the waste for the sea episode. They regularly clean their beaches of both large and minuscule plastics that are slowly becoming our ocean. The Seahorse was my favourite during the Big Flower Fight, and so I immediately got in touch to work with them again at Kew. As with many large pieces, when they are finished with they are often scrapped. So after Kew I got to work in securing the incredible structure so that we could gift it to Beach Guardians where it will be installed permanently in their communal meadow. This second project is where the whole experience started to make sense. We used ghost gear to weave the entire structure, to bind the plastic to the whale creating something entirely new and unrecognisable to the original medium.
Grace Emily Manning (my partner on this venture) and I spent around 250 hours weaving the whale with help from volunteers, and during the evening we embedded ourselves in the Cornish coast. The Blow Hole at Trevone, and many caves that we imagined as the belly of the whale, became spaces of metamorphosis where we began to un-do some of the damage. Throughout this whole process we aimed to cleanse the materials and our societal relationship with the planet. We conducted small rituals based around the area at night with the weaving of the whale being the biggest. We were apple bobbing on the Cliffs under a full moon at Alentide (these apples came back to us almost a week later). Seeking faces in the rocks and following quartz lines we connected to the area. The project is being developed into a short film that we will show in 2021.
I think the main criticism of the sculptures being unattainable is true, which was the main reason (other than sustainability issues) why I felt that the Whale must be gifted to others. In every monument you imbue spirit and if unwitnessed the sentiment can die alongside it. The longevity of standing stones is a testament to this; though many are overgrown, disheveled and are functioning at only a fraction of their potential, the purpose is there even if only to inspire.
Photo: Netflix
Andrew and Grace have set up a Patreon page where you can subscribe to fund the short film and follow its progress.