I am always surprised by how genuinely moved I am by Michael Landy’s Nourishment monochromatic, botanical etchings every time I see them.

Although I remember the emergence of the YBA’s (Young British Artists) in the late 1990s and the headlines of Saatchi’s Sensation exhibition, I wasn’t old in enough to hear about Michael Landy’s 2001 performance of Breakdown which took place in the empty premises of C&A; a department store I remember shopping in as a child. In Breakdown, Landy, who had spent the previous year cataloguing all his belongings (7,227 items from his passport, birth certificate, his car, all items of sentimental value as well as his collection of artworks and books), destroyed everything in a performance which would last just over 2 weeks and which would, in the end, produce 6 tonnes of waste. 45,000 visitors came to see Landy load everything he owned – except the clothes on his back, literally – into a giant disposal machine manned by 10 operatives.

The performance – which drew criticism from the art world, particularly with regard to Landy destroying all his work and that of his fellow artists – was a superb, provocative artwork which forced viewers to confront issues surrounding ownership, value and our attachment to objects.  After this, Landy took a one-year hiatus from making any art.  Devoid of all his belongings, he slowly and painstakingly began to work on the Nourishment series of etchings depicting weeds; the tiny modest plants that grow in the cracks of urban pavements. There is a marvellous sense of quiet optimism in these delicate, life-like renderings of plants that grow and prosper against all odds. Like Landy post Break Down, they emerge from nothing and encourage us to engage with systems of value. Is a flower more important than a weed because someone planted it and presumably cares for it?