The Fenimore Flowers: A Full-Circle Moment

I’m excited to share my latest collection, The Fenimore Flowers, now on view at Brimstone Bakery at the Fenimore Café inside the Fenimore Art Museum.

When Anthony Leberto, owner of Brimstone Bakery, invited me to create new work for the café space, I wanted to make something that felt fresh and connected to the light and atmosphere of that room.

At the time, my heart was heavy with the loss of a dear friend—someone with a true eye for beauty and style. When I stepped into the studio, I quietly dedicated the photoshoot to him and allowed myself to feel everything. In that quiet space, what emerged was a series of still lifes that hold both weight and tenderness—colorful, elegant, emotional images that carry both grief and grace.

What makes this exhibit especially meaningful is where it now lives.

When I first moved to this region, I didn’t yet know I would become a photographer. But the Fenimore Art Museum was one of the first places that drew me in. Exhibits by photographers like Herb Ritts, Marc Hom, and Raymond Han made a lasting impression. Their work showed me how photography could hold emotion in a single, quiet frame.

Over time, through my involvement in the local arts community—and the encouragement of people like Anthony of Brimstone—I found the support and inspiration to grow into the artist I am today.

To now have my photographs hanging inside the Fenimore feels like coming full circle—from those early days of wonder and inspiration to creating work that reflects my own vision and heart.

This collection is part of my ongoing exploration of beauty, quiet moments, and the art of noticing. Whether I’m photographing a person or a flower, my intention is always to create images that invite reflection and connection.

You can see The Fenimore Flowers in person at Brimstone Bakery at the Fenimore Café, and a selection of my floral photography is also available at the Fenimore Museum Gift Shop.

The Fenimore Flowers
by Christine Harris

There are times when beauty is not something we create,
but something we allow—
something we lean into when the world feels heavy.

This collection began in one of those quiet, uncertain moments.
I entered the studio with a full heart and no plan—
only a need to feel, to stay present.
I let the flowers lead.
I let light fall where it wanted.
I let beauty hold what I could not name.

These still lifes are simple.
They hold tenderness, weight, and grace.
They speak the language of emotion.

To S - thank you for showing me I had a story to tell and for bringing me Italy when I needed it most.