The Painting of "Phototropic Flow": A Dance of Plant Consciousness
I've long believed in plant consciousness - not just intelligence, but a fundamental awareness that precedes it. Reading "The Light Eaters" by Zoë Schlanger provided scientific validation for what I'd intuitively understood: that consciousness is the seed from which intelligence grows. Reading that book is what inspired this painting. I chose to work with pea plants, connecting their historical role in scientific discovery with this deeper understanding of plant awareness. These humble plants, which first helped us understand heredity through Mendel's experiments, continue to reveal new insights about consciousness in all living things.
In my initial sketches, I found myself drawn to how the pea plant's tendrils resembled insect wings poised for flight. There was something magical in how these ordinary garden plants appeared to be trying to float upward, searching for purchase in the air. The leaves near the stem ends curved like wings about to take flight, suggesting a kind of botanical metamorphosis.
Working with ink on paper, I let my hand move freely, knowing the background would eventually become a deep, rich black. I was imagining water waves and sound waves, thinking about how they create interference patterns. It was the first moment of flow I'd experienced in a long time, and that felt really good.
While working, I felt profound gratitude for my sobriety - eleven years strong at the writing of this. It's only through being sober that this moment was possible: the studio space, the ability to focus, the freedom to experiment creatively without immediate survival pressure. This clarity allows me to connect more deeply with the work, to be present with each brushstroke.
Like any creative endeavour, this piece went through what I call "the ugly phase." And included the obligatory smudges and drips that I'd later have to figure out how to incorporate. Unlike digital art, all the little mistakes will stay part of this painting, become part of its history. There's an honesty to that which resonates with me - doing our best and finding ways to incorporate our mistakes into the larger narrative.
During these middle stages, I found peace in the repetitive process of filling in the background shapes. Even knowing I disliked how it looked at this point, there was something meditative about the simple physical act of painting. Being in a state of burnout, this methodical work became a form of rest, allowing my mind to wander and settle.
Sharing the process of this piece with my email list as it unfolded wasn't easy. It was pure experimentation, and I didn't feel entirely confident about where it was going. But there's something important about documenting these uncertain moments - they're as much a part of the creative process as the finished piece.
As the dark background emerged, a feeling of balance began to take shape. The energy tendrils became more delicate and wispy, dancing across the surface like the invisible connections between all living things. They remind me of how plants communicate through chemical signals and underground networks - a hidden language we're only beginning to understand.
The filigree in the background had reached the delicacy I was aiming for, but I needed to pause and consider the main plants carefully. There's no going back at this point - each decision becomes part of the permanent record of this piece's evolution.
Making the bold choice to add pure black to the background - something I rarely do - helped the piece take a significant turn. While I felt a twinge of sadness watching the splotchy blue disappear beneath the darkness, I knew it was necessary for the story this artwork needed to tell. Like the hidden networks of plant communication beneath the soil, these earlier layers remain present even if unseen, creating depth that only reveals itself through careful observation.
Finally, the painting reached completion! After adding brighter colours to the pea plants, everything clicked into place. The plants appear vibrant and alive, seeming to dance against the mysterious background. There's a constant flow of movement that draws the eye through the composition, much like the endless cycle of growth and adaptation in the natural world.
The mounting process began with a gel medium binding the paper to canvas. For the canvas edges, I decided to mirror the painting's technique - first a layer of dark blue, then black over top, allowing just hints of blue to peek through. These subtle details echo the mysterious connections depicted in the main image.
Even in my messy kitchen, where it briefly hung before varnishing, the painting brought an energy to the space that felt right. There's something powerful about artwork that can transform any environment it inhabits, much like how plants adapt to and enhance their surroundings.
The finished piece, now varnished and ready for its forever home, carries within it countless hours of meditation on plant consciousness and our connection to these remarkable beings. I'm particularly proud of how the vibrant plants contrast with the deep black, creating a piece that invites repeated viewing and contemplation.
This original artwork now seeks a home where it can continue its story, adding depth and timeless greenery to a thoughtfully curated space. It carries both visual impact and a reminder of our connection with nature – born from patient observation and natural creative flow.
Can you imagine this piece bringing its mysterious energy to a corner of your home? The original painting is now available in my gallery store.
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