Gardening is a constant learning process. Much of that learning comes from hands on, down-in-the-dirt experiential encounters with plants, soil and the effects of weather. Some of that learning is "book learning" and some comes by way of formal or informal instruction. A few years ago I got a very satisfying dose of the latter when I signed up for a local botanic garden's winter course in botanical illustration.
I am not an artist, though I love color. When I signed up for the course I hadn't had any formal art instruction since high school. I had never worked intensively with watercolors and the class focused primarily on pencil drawing and watercolor. Still, I had always admired antique and modern botanical illustration and wanted to see what I could do. I was nervous when I went to the first session.
Fortunately several of my classmates were similarly inexperienced. Every class started the same way, with a trip outdoors to collect specimens. Since I took my course in the winter, flowers were not an option. We collected seed pods, dry stalks and berries and when each of us had picked up one or two good specimens we returned to the classroom. On the first day we made pencil sketches, with the teacher giving us pointers on the rudiments of drawing. I struggled, erased, started again and struggled again to come up with a decent pencil sketch of some rose hips on a branch. The teacher was encouraging and I left the class feeling inspired. In the time between the weekly classes I sketched all that I could, drawing pencil portraits of pinecones and lily pods and even onions from the refrigerator. As the classes proceeded I grew more confident.
That confidence lasted until we started working in water color, which I found very tricky. Trying to figure out the intricacies of washes, degrees of color, mixing colors, creating shadow and light effects and all the other aspects of water color painting nearly defeated me. My early attempts were awful, but eventually I improved. My final work for the class, a watercolor of a dogwood branch, won praise from my teacher and my classmates. It wasn't great art, but it did reflect how far I had come since starting the class.
Learning the rudiments of botanical illustration was a wonderful experience and I try to keep in practice. But the best thing that I learned was how to look carefully at plants. Working close up and sometimes with a hand lens, I saw leaves, petals, stamens and stalks in a completely new way. I discovered, for example, that the color of a rose petal was not one color but many, and its appearance could change dramatically depending on light conditions. This would not be news to an artist, but it was a revelation to me.
This new-found way of seeing made me a much better gardener. I began to think more about plant color and combinations, trying to work out beautiful compositions, not just pleasing arrangements of individual plants. Flowers and plant parts seemed more beautiful and I took more time to appreciate them. I thought about how light and shadow work in the garden, and I began to think of new ways to exploit those possibilities.
Many horticultural institutions sponsor botanical illustration courses, so if you have a little time this winter, try one out. If you don't live near enough to a horticultural institution, there are many good step-by-step books on the subject. One of the best is Painting Plant Portraits by Keith West (Timber Press, 1991). Another is Beautiful Botanicals--Painting and drawing flowers and plants by Bente Starcke King (North Light Books 2004). Both books can be ordered from local retail book sellers as well as through online retailers like Barnes & Noble and Amazon.