Plant Art

my plant that died, 2022.

Charcoal & photography.

Artist Statement:

I’m a plant killer.

This piece describes the time that my plant that died died. The photograph I collaged into my piece is my first and last photograph I took of my newborn baby plant that died. I needed to be there for my plant that died, feed my plant that died, sing to my plant that died, tell my plant that died my secrets, but I did not, and so, my plant that died began to die. And she died so quietly and so neatly all in one little box that I didn’t realize until it was done. I remember the day I looked at my window-sill and saw her dried up, rotting body laying in her crib of dirt. And I realized that if things aren’t dying sloppily we tend to not notice, but that doesn’t make this kind of death any less sad or bad. Sometimes I am my plant that died, neatly and quietly breaking down, withering away, and falling apart.

This piece explores the theme of self-neglect, while I was neglecting my plant that died, I was too neglecting me. My usage of two media, photography and charcoal parallels the relationship of me and my plant that died. I couldn’t have time to draw my plant that died because it died, forcing me to use the photograph instead (I am not an experienced photographer). And the impermanence of charcoal reflects the putrefaction of me. The dichotomy of the color photograph of my plant that died and the black and white charcoal figures contrast literally as well as thematically: of the growth that once was and of decomposition, decay, and rot. The repetition of both the figure and the plant that died’s photograph represents a reflection. My plant that died is depicted as alive because it is, in a way, a shrine of her, she is gone, and I, while I may be rotting, am still here. I hope to connect to viewers who have felt the same way as my plant that died and me and maybe to help them recognize their own self-induced decomposition. It took my plant that died’s death for me to understand that it wasn’t just my plant that died that I wasn’t taking care of, I hope this work can act in a similar way.

I am not passionate about mental-health awareness, but self-neglect is not often spoken about and is difficult to recognize in one’s self until it’s too late. I believe that it is far different from depression and can exist with or without it. And at the end of the day, we are living organisms, just like my plant that died, and if we don’t take care of ourselves, our own death could sneak up on us quietly, softly, and neatly.