Every once in a while, a book comes along that isn’t just a collection of images but an experience in itself. Sticks by Patrick Dougherty and James Florio is one of those books. A massive, heavy tome with a presence as striking as the sculptures it documents. The hardcover alone feels monumental, solid, weighty, the kind of book that commands attention before you even open it. And once you do, you’re pulled into a world of winding, twisting structures, captured in black and white with stunning precision.

The book doesn’t come out until the 25th of this month but I have been so lucky to get a copy before launch which is one of the absolute best perks of running this site, especially when the book is as good as this and it’s from a company I respect as much as Radius.

This book isn’t just about looking at art, it’s about stepping into it. Dougherty’s sculptures, built from saplings and branches, have an organic, almost mythical quality, blending seamlessly into their surroundings while standing apart as something extraordinary. James Florio’s photography captures them in a way that makes you feel their texture, their depth, their movement. The contrast of deep blacks, luminous whites, and rich greys elevates each piece beyond documentation, it turns them into living, breathing things.

One of the standout images for me is from Sea Change in Naples. Taken from within the structure, it leads the eye down a corridor of interwoven branches, creating the feeling of looking through a series of doorways, each one beckoning you further. There’s something almost dreamlike about it, like stepping through a portal into a world that exists between nature and human imagination. It’s easy to see why this piece was named Sea Change, there’s a flow, a rhythm to the sculpture, a sense of constant transformation.

Then there’s All in the Family, a piece that at first glance looks like a row of tiny homes, sheds, or playhouses. Five distinct structures lean into each other, bound by the same organic material yet each having its own identity. The balance here is striking, it suggests both individuality and unity, the way families exist as separate entities yet stay connected. It’s a brilliant representation of Dougherty’s ability to use natural materials to tell deeply human stories.

Dougherty’s work is fascinating because it is both monumental and temporary. These are not sculptures designed to last forever. Built from sticks and saplings, they change, weather, decay, and eventually disappear. There’s something profoundly poetic about that. Each piece exists as a moment in time, captured in Florio’s images before nature reclaims it. It reminds me of the impermanence of all things, how even the most intricate, towering creations will one day be gone.

This theme of impermanence is especially poignant in Daydreams and Cursive Takes a Holiday at Tippet Rise. A schoolhouse, a place of rigid structure and discipline, is overtaken by a wild, swirling mass of branches. The idea of cursive, once a symbol of strict rules and order, breaking free and becoming something fluid and untamed is an incredibly compelling visual. It’s not just a sculpture; it’s a metaphor for creativity, for rebellion, for the sheer joy of letting go.

Another aspect of this book that really stands out is the way Dougherty’s work interacts with its environment. These sculptures don’t exist in isolation, they become part of their surroundings, responding to the landscapes they inhabit. In The Rookery at the Chicago Botanic Garden, towering, thin structures rise like natural extensions of the trees around them, while a swirling wave of yellow willow ties the entire piece together. It feels like a place that has always been there, something born from the land rather than built upon it.

Likewise, Fly Away Home in North Carolina plays with the idea of movement and transformation. The structure, with its interlocking jigsaw-shaped base, appears to be in motion, as if it could lift off at any moment. There’s an energy in these pieces that Florio captures beautifully, each photograph not only documents the sculpture but brings out the emotion, the presence, the way it interacts with light and shadow.

What makes Sticks such a powerful book isn’t just the sculptures or the photography, but the way the two work together. Dougherty’s work is already striking on its own, but Florio’s black-and-white images add a whole new dimension. By stripping away colour, the focus shifts to form, texture, and contrast, making each sculpture feel even more dramatic, more timeless.

There’s also a deeper conversation happening here, about how we experience art. Dougherty’s work is meant to be walked through, touched, lived in. But for most people, their interaction with these pieces will be through photographs. Florio’s images don’t just document, they interpret, offering a perspective that makes the viewer feel like they’re stepping inside the structures rather than just looking at them.

This idea is explored in the conversation between Dougherty and Florio, included in the book. They discuss what it means to create site-specific, ephemeral work that is most often experienced through photography. It’s an interesting tension, the sculptures exist in a physical space, but their lasting impact is through images. It’s a challenge that Florio meets head-on, and the result is a book that feels just as immersive as the sculptures themselves.

Dougherty | James Florio: Sticks is more than a book, it’s a journey through spaces that exist between nature and art, permanence and impermanence, order and chaos. It’s a book that makes you want to see these structures in person, to walk through them, to feel the rough texture of the branches beneath your hands. But even if you never get that chance, this book brings you as close as possible to that experience.

The craftsmanship of the book itself is impeccable, from the weight of the pages to the sheer scale of the images. It’s a book that demands to be held, flipped through slowly, studied and revisited. There’s something meditative about it, like the sculptures themselves, it invites you to pause, to look more closely, to appreciate the details you might otherwise miss.

Whether you’re a photographer, an artist, or simply someone who appreciates beautiful, thought-provoking work, Sticks is a must-have. It captures something rare, a sense of wonder, of playfulness, of deep connection to the natural world. And in a time when everything feels increasingly digital and disconnected, there’s something profoundly refreshing about a book that reminds us of the power of physical space, of material, of things that are built by hand.

Dougherty’s sculptures may be temporary, but their impact lasts. And thanks to Florio’s photography and the sheer beauty of this book, they will continue to inspire long after the last stick has fallen.

Regards

Alex