Happenstance also played a big part in how Ackroyd and Harvey first discovered their creative medium. In 1989, during one of their first collaborations (entitled "The Other") growing an interior of a vaulted ceiling chamber, they had placed a ladder against one of the walls as part of the installation. The grass was receiving directional light as a result of the ladder's placement. One day, the artists looked up and saw that a 'shadow' of the ladder had been cast on the grass. And so grass photography was born. "It took another year to express it as a living grass photograph, but the seed of the idea was implanted at that point," says Ackroyd, using all-too-appropriate language.

Just as much as the element of chance gives birth to new forms of creativity, there is also a scientific, experimental process of trial and error. The grandfathers of photography, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce, Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre, and of course Talbot, all operated on then-tentative territory at the nexus of science, invention and art (invention being the link between science and art). The work of these men, in some ways, mirrored the spirit of the times-Darwinism, and the search for perspective and reality in the pre-industrial world.

Today, at the dawn of another technological shift-- the biotech era-- it makes sense that Ackroyd and Harvey's work is growing increasingly popular. Theirs is an equally interdisciplinary terrain. Ackroyd's background is in the visual arts and theatre. Harvey's is in sculpture and architecture. And they've added in biology and photography to the mix. Neither of them formally studied or worked in photography (though, Harvey's father was a professional photographer) but somehow it was an appealing framework for their creative concepts.

One might imagine that voices from the international photography community would cry out in disdain towards a creative team coming in from outside of its confines and taking on the bold task of reinterpreting the medium. But there seems to be a progressive wing of it that understands the need to challenge conventions and renew definitions in order for photography to continue to be a relevant source of creativity throughout the 21st century. Ackroyd and Harvey's work was recently exhibited at SF Camerawork in San Francisco as part of "Agitate: Negotiating the Photographic Process." They have participated in Year of the Photo 98 and Hull Time Based Arts in Hull, England, as well as in an exhibit entitled "Breathless! Photography and Time" at the Victoria and Albert in London.

But, in many ways, this hybrid work goes beyond the clearly outlined paradigm of the photographic medium. "It's subverting process back to something that's predating photography," says Ackroyd. You'll hear both of them use this word, process, often and reverently, as if it is an end onto itself. "We're not content driven," she emphasizes, "It's process." This philosophy is probably what's kept the duo going strong for all these years. The work never becomes gimmicky because the subject matter is simple--mother and child, an old woman, a pastoral. Purity and simplicity reign supreme.

Ackroyd and Harvey love grass, pure and simple. It's their medium of choice, and according to Harvey, the most efficient material for their purposes. "The grass has a certain importance because of the simplicity of the blade," he explains, "By nature it slightly grows towards the light." It may sound odd to hear two people express such great reverence for grass. For every song of praise there is one of dissent. To Communist leader Mao Ze Tung it was symbolic of Western decadence. He hated the natural material so much that during one of his campaigns in the Cultural Revolution he had people rip it out with their bare hands as forced labor. At one point Ackroyd and Harvey admit that they were toying with the idea of creating a grass portrait of Chairman Mao. But for those with no prior knowledge of Mao's relationship to grass, such a piece would inevitably have a pop art connotation. This is not the way they would like their work to be perceived. They're the anti- Pierre et Gilles. They don't do celebrity portraits, nor do they identify their work with frivolous social self-references. "It's not about being kitsch," says Ackroyd. Theirs is a world where nature and technology meet in a delicate and cooperative dance.

Their work digs up the issues behind this seemingly incongruous coexistence. There is one school of thought that sees Nature as anything that has always made up our earthly landscape (original, untouched materials). Harvey seems to espouse the newer Post Human definition of Nature that is becoming increasingly acceptable. "Everything around us is natural material that man has naturally developed." So, working with the scientists on the stay green grass seems to be, for him, a process of collaborating with nature to perfect it, rather than using technology as a way of effecting its extinction. "There is a science of fine-tuning to it," he says, "We're becoming much more capable of judging that." These words make Harvey sound more like a scientist than a photographer/artist. But is there really such a difference? Even the biological definition of plant growth (through photosynthesis) is parallel to the technology of photography. This same idea is taken to another level (a genetic one) through the work of peer bio-artist Joe Davis, who created a work called DNAgraphy. His technique uses DNA to play the same role as emulsion would in photography, in creating figurative images that are viewed under a microscope.

Scientists are certainly known for dissecting and analyzing some very minute details. At the same time they are required to step back and take a bird's eye view of the entire process. They are often imbued with a sense of curiosity, an investigative spirit and an experimental nature. Replace the word 'scientists' in the above phrase with 'photographers,' and there's no need for further adaptation.

It is much easier to identify the aforementioned characteristics in the raw and unbridled work of the very early photographers--from blatantly techy inventions like sterophotography to Nadar's aerial photographs of Paris. Today, there is a danger of becoming too enmeshed in the culture of photography to call upon these basic concepts for inspiration and a sense of purpose. Ackroyd and Harvey's work favors nature over culture. Like Talbot and his ilk, their creative search takes them to the aesthetic of the natural world. For their predecessors this may have been a rudimentary task. But ours is a complicated age where nature, reality and the unreal are in want of new definitions. So is photography.