Plant Guts

I recently saw the cross-section of a plant cell under a microscope. That image seared itself into my mind; it looked like a geode rock broken open, hundreds of crystalline pieces fitted into each other to form an entity. If I squinted and edited out the details, each cell looked like a tree trunk sliced open, every circle marking a growth spurt. Two or more cells grouped together resembled the insides of an old-timey clock, gears turning to make it tick.

I wanted the viewer of this piece to feel like they are looking at the inner mechanism of a living object. The two central spirals in this piece are representative of the movement of two gears turning together, meshing in motion. Each component has its own unique shape and function, but fits into the curves of its surrounding shapes seamlessly, contributing to the greater operation.

To create this painting, I layered two very different mediums together. I first created a base pattern using chalk pastels; this mapped out all the colors and movement I wanted to create. I then cured and sealed the layer of chalk pastels using a gloss varnish. After I was able to touch the chalk pastels without any fallout, I went in with acrylic paint to add the line work. The disparity between a wet and dry medium made painting the line work feel like I was spinning a web atop something; it brought my awareness to how several distinct phases of creation formed this one piece.

I can be a very impatient person and often question if I have chosen the right path when I don’t see immediate results, but the painstaking process of creating this painting reminded me that anything worth making is never truly finished. There are endless unseen parts that go through constant renewal to keep something running and make it whole. The real fruition is the act of making itself, and that’s a good thing.

The original is 22×28" in size and was created using acrylics on canvas.