To find the resources they need for living and thriving, plants orient themselves in above- and below-ground environments. Their roots navigate the subterranean labyrinths of soil, rock, water, bacteria and roots of other plants no less proficiently than mice in search of food. They must be aware of dangers—the onset of drought, or invading herbivore insects—in order to carry out the most essential life activities, or to activate their defenses. They have to make complex decisions on the best time to blossom, juggling up to twenty environmental factors, such as the length of day or the warmth of the air, comparing the evolution of these conditions over a span of at least a month. In other words, plants gather as much information about the world they live in as possible and, attentive to changes in it, act with discernment.

If consciousness means being “with knowledge,” then plants are certainly conscious. In this piece, I interpret that consciousness through movement and composition; a sort of “sensing” the space that a plant inhabits. Under normal circumstances this is something largely unnoticed by humans. Here, the plant activity is made visual.

8”x11”
Acrylic, alcohol ink and ink, on yupo.