In the past, I had never considered my family of origin as a significant factor influencing my life. However, as I grew older, I realized that this intimate relationship is like an invisible chain that constrains me, tightening over time and affecting my emotions. This sensation is not physical pain but rather a profound mental strain. I have tried to find solace in the outside world, seeking distractions and escapes, but I cannot ignore the emotional ties to my family. My most vulnerable side always remains at home, where every word they utter weighs heavily on my emotions, like a pile of stones pressing me down harder and harder.
An On-going Journey of Self-reflection - A Journal
After reading Tara Westover's "Educated", although I make a conscious effort not to fully immerse myself in the author's life because I understand that her experiences are entirely different from mine, I still consistently resonate with Tara when she discusses the impact family can have on children. She states, "My life was narrated for me by others. Their voices were forceful, emphatic, absolute. It had never occurred to me that my voice might be as strong as theirs." (1) Breaking free from the marks imprinted by one's family is an incredibly challenging task. Such a process demands relentless self-reflection, confronting the harsh truths of life, and challenging the beliefs of those we once held dearest. Although the influence of family may diminish with the involvement of formal school education, it can never be completely eradicated, as it has already seeped into the core of one's being and taken root. Like Tara, I still yearn for the approval and recognition of my family, a longing that often feels contradictory and frustrating; though I know I shouldn't base my self-worth or overall mood on their opinions, it’s difficult not to be affected. This emotional dependence has been a constant presence in my life since childhood, potentially explaining the existence of that invisible chain that seems to bind me. It is a journey fraught with emotional turbulence, yet I won't compare my family of origin with others, nor do I desire any free-spirited group or individual to rescue me from the unhealthy and imbalanced issues brought about by emotional dependence, for everyone's beliefs and growth environments are vastly different. What I envy are creatures free from mental constraints, those who don't need to worry, think, or anticipate what they must face or gain each day. I wish I had the ability to stop my brain momentarily, even for a brief moment, as it would be a joyous escape from mental control. Unfortunately, humans don't possess such an ability; thus, I began to wonder if there is such an existence with such a power within this vast natural ecosystem.
One day, as I glanced at the plants in my home, I found myself wondering: do plants think or possess consciousness? Do they experience a range of emotions like humans? My curiosity led me to research, and I discovered that plants do not have nervous systems or brains, and thus, they do not experience emotions as humans or animals do. As scientists note, “They can effectively defend themselves against harm without experiencing unpleasant feelings of physical agony.” (2) The behaviors we observe in plants are not the result of conscious emotional experiences but are driven by complex biochemical processes. These processes enable plants to adapt, survive, and reproduce in diverse environments. This realization struck a deep chord within me. Plants operate in a state devoid of mental and emotional turmoil, responding instinctively to their surroundings without the burden of conscious thought or emotional distress. The calm, unburdened existence of plants is the mental tranquility I seek.
Plants possess this inherent quality that allows them to live without experiencing the emotional or psychological burdens that humans face. By painting plants, I unconsciously seek a form of expression that doesn’t require words or directly involve interpersonal relationships and emotional entanglements. For example, in my painting "Whispers," I perceive myself as a plant, immersing myself in the image with a calm demeanor. I chose muted colors, such as deep blue and dark green, to maintain a sense of calm and avoid excessive emotional fluctuation in the artwork. The shapes, colors, and growth patterns of the plants serve as a unique language, allowing me to express feelings that are difficult to articulate with words.
Whispers: zoomed in details
Bibliography
Additionally, elements of nature, especially plants, are often regarded as having healing and soothing properties. In "The Nature Fix," Florence Williams presents scientific evidence that plants can have a therapeutic effect on people. She references research by Japanese physiological anthropologist Yoshifumi Miyazaki, who has studied the practice of "forest bathing." Williams notes that just 15 minutes of sitting in the woods or walking on trails can lead to significant positive physiological changes, such as lower blood pressure, improved respiration, reduced heart rate, and balanced hormone levels. This highlights how exposure to nature can have measurable health benefits. In my paintings, I aim to harness this natural healing power to create a space for relaxation and mental stress relief. The act of depicting plants becomes a meditative process, enabling me to channel their calming energy into my art.
It is worth noting that I do not choose specific plant species as the subjects of my paintings. Instead, I prefer to rely on my first instincts, allowing the diversity of plants to unfold naturally without limitations or definitions. This approach mirrors the work of Yoko Matsumoto, who draws inspiration from natural elements such as water, light, and wind, presenting them in an intuitive and meditative manner. Her art reflects a subconscious spiritual power, which she describes by saying, "Since I paint with the work lying on the floor, my sweat is constantly dripping on it. It’s manual labor, pure and simple, with no time to question. The work doesn’t allow me to think, and with no time to think I become one with the painting." (3) In my own creative process, I find myself in a similar state as Yoko, following my instincts and avoiding overthinking when selecting my subjects. In my creative process, I will reflect on what plants in my paintings truly mean to me. As a result, I find that the plants I choose are relatively fragile species, or rather it is this vulnerability conveyed by my works that makes me realize this could also be my own state of being; thus, instinctively, I am drawn to plants that are tiny and frail. For example, when I was walking in Kew Garden and Victoria Embankment Park, I was not easily attracted to the perfectly blooming flowers or plants with eye-catching colors, nor did I take them as objects of my paintings. Instead, I was struck by plants that are dying, petals falling off, and deformed to the point where I could not tell what species they were anymore. Their forms were so fascinating to me that I, stimulated by my instincts, immediately pictured them in my mind and knew how they would be portrayed on my canvas.
I typically reference photos I have taken myself, as I believe photography is the best way to capture specific moments, and the still state I want to portray in my paintings serves as a mental depiction of emptiness. The act of freezing time through a photograph allows me to focus on the intricate details and the serene stillness of plants, which I then translate into my artwork. This method provides a foundation for my creative process, ensuring that the essence of the captured moment is preserved and conveyed on the canvas. In Karl Blossfeldt’s "Meisterwerke" photography collection, he used his specially designed camera and exquisite photography skills to emphasize the rhythmic forms of flowers to the extreme, showcasing the unique and exotic characteristics of plants. He remarked, "If I give someone a horsetail, he will have no difficulty making a photographic enlargement of it. Anyone can do that. But to observe it, to notice and discover old forms, is something only few are capable of." (4) Through his works, I have observed the resilience in plants, the transience of time, and the connection between humans and plants. Although these photos are in black and white, lacking the vibrant impact of plant colors, the enlarged compositions and the intricate surface textures of the plants evoke an inexplicable sense of solemnity and distance. This might be the mystery of nature’s grandeur—capturing the essence of life in its most raw and unadorned form. The rare, vividly twisted forms of the plants in Blossfeldt’s photos give me a sense of early portrait photography, where every detail is magnified and appreciated. The structure, branches, and leaves of the plants resemble our bones and limbs, while their fuzz and roots are akin to the hair and veins on our bodies. This resemblance reveals the integration and commonality between humans and nature, highlighting the interconnectedness of all living things. In my painting "An Eclipsed Lullaby," I magnified a tiny plant on the canvas, fully depicting its roots, textures, and the colors hidden in its petals. By capturing the momentary colors of the scene, I emphasized a still state of growth, free from mental control, inviting viewers to appreciate the subtle beauty and tranquility of nature.
As my work developed, I came to understand that achieving genuine tranquility requires releasing my true emotions rather than merely escaping from them. In my painting "Beneath the Veil," I stopped hiding and straining myself, allowing my composition to become more expansive. I began to subtly convey my inner feelings in my own way, continuously breaking down the original image of the plants. This process metaphorically represented my internal struggle and the dismantling of excessive self-defense mechanisms. Plants gradually transformed from mere "mediums" into listeners, with each painting becoming an outlet for my emotions toward plants and nature. The brushstrokes become more open and spread out, creating a breathable texture through transparent layering, which removes the mental tension I once felt. Inspired by Yoko, I first sprinkle acrylics freely on the canvas, lifting and shaking it to allow the paint to flow in various directions. I use the resulting trails and colors as a foundation for my re-creation, layering oil paint on top and combining different botanical shapes in a fragmented manner, mirroring my multi-layered emotions. For example, in this area, I leave parts of the bottom layer exposed, showcasing the initial state of the work. I find myself more relaxed in controlling the painting, no longer stretching all the details to the extreme, possibly due to a shift in my mental state influencing the overall picture. Plants have evolved from being mere "mediums" to "listeners," with each painting becoming a cathartic expression of my emotions towards plants and nature. They communicate and react through silent chemical signals, a phenomenon I also reflect in my paintings, silently passing my language to them. Toward the end of each painting, I add highlights of varying brightness, symbolizing stars in the cosmos or fireflies in a dark forest. These highlights, a personal symbol of myself, visualize my soulful communication with plants, expressing my emotions and thoughts to viewers. They appear in all my works, acting as visual cues that guide viewers to the underlying message of my paintings, leaving ample room for imagination.
Photopgraphy: Yoko Matsumoto painting
Photography: taken at Victoria Embankment
Karl Blossfeldt: Meisterwerke
An Eclipsed Lullaby
Beneath the Veil: painting process
Beneath the Veil: exposed bottom layer
Adding highlights
(1) Westover, Tara. Educated: A Memoir. Random House, 2018. Chapter 22.
(2) Millstein, Seth. "Do Plants Feel Pain? No, and Here’s How Scientists Know." Sentient Media, 16 Feb. 2024, https://sentientmedia.org/do-plants-feel-pain/.
(3) White Cube. "Yoko Matsumoto, Mason's Yard." White Cube, 2024, https://www.whitecube.com/gallery-exhibitions/yoko-matsumoto-masons-yard-2024.
(4) Michael Hoppen Gallery. "Karl Blossfeldt." Michael Hoppen Gallery, n.d., https://www.michaelhoppengallery.com/artists/58-karl-blossfeldt/.