Two years ago I shared my first collection of urban botanical art photos. Since that time I have collected several more. I had hoped to get lots of photos during my trips out of town, and while I did manage to get a few, it turns out that my hometown of Boise, Idaho has a sizable (and growing) selection of plant-related public art. Thus, several of these are local finds.
In this special edition of Awkward Botanical Sketches, I took some inspiration from a book called Dear Data by Giorgia Lupi and Stefanie Posavec. In this book, two friends separated by an ocean chose something about their lives to collect data on every week for a year, then they exchanged the data they collected via weekly postcards. They did this by drawing out a representation of their data on the front of the postcard, along with a key to the drawing on the back. It seemed like a fun thing to do, so I decided to try it. Rather than mailing my postcards to someone across the sea, I am sharing them here.
My ability to creatively present the data I collected pales in comparison to Lupi and Posavec, but I had fun giving it a shot. Most importantly, it satisfied my quest to draw more. This first postcard is all about the weeds I came across in a week.
Whenever I listen to music I make a mental note of any botanical references made in the lyrics. I generally don’t do anything with these mental notes – unless, of course, I’m writing something about them (see this Botany in Popular Culture post, for example) – but this time I did. Saturday was a particularly busy day because I was listening to a lot of Ghost Mice.
My obvious obssesion with weeds and my intention to write a weeds-themed book someday – plus my career as a horticulturist – means that I frequently find myself involved in activities and conversations involving weeds. I wasn’t exactly sure how to track that, so this is my lousy attempt at doing so. In case you’re wondering what I was up to on Saturday (the big, blue circle), this tweet and Instagram post should help explain things.
Further Reading: Review of Dear Data in The Guardian
When the Goathead Monster revealed itself before the big bike parade at the first annual Boise Goathead Fest, it was worried that the thousands of people it saw gathered before it were there out of hatred. After all, “rides have been ruined, tires have been trashed, and punctures have permeated” the “pedal-powered lives” of pretty much everyone in attendance, and the Goathead Monster was to blame. For that reason, hundreds (perhaps thousands) of pounds of puncture vine had been pulled around Boise throughout the month of July, all in preparation for this inaugural event.
Certainly, those of us who ride bikes regularly have a sore spot for this problematic plant. Yet, we weren’t there in anger. We were there to celebrate bicycles, community, friendship, and summer, and even if it took a villain like the Goathead Monster to bring us all together, how could we be mad?
Bicycle events like this one have been a feature of summers in Boise, Idaho for years now. For over a decade, Tour de Fat was the main event, but after dropping Boise from its tour schedule starting this year, Boise (with New Belgium Brewing‘s continued support) was left to create its own thing. Boise Bicycle Project, along with the help of several other bike-centric and bike-friendly organizations, put together Boise Goathead Fest. The trappings are similar to Tour de Fat – a bike parade, along with music, food, drinks, costumes, games, and weirdness. The main difference is that this event is “bona fide Boise” … and goathead themed.
As a bicycle enthusiast, this is already my kind of event. As a plant nerd – and even more so, as a weeds-obsessed plant nerd – a noxious weed-themed festival is about as on the nose as you can get. Where else are you going to see people dressing up their bikes and themselves like a noxious weed? And where else are you going to find people who, despite their disdain for this plant (or perhaps because of it), decide to come together and celebrate? In a way, it makes me wish we could throw a party for all vilified plants, each one getting a chance to tell its story, and each one getting some time under the spotlight, in spite of the negative feelings we may have towards them.
Goathead is an easy plant to rally around. As executive director of Boise Bicycle Project said on Idaho Matters, goatheads are a “bane of bicycling, and they don’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’re from, what sort of bicycle you’re riding … you’re going to get a flat tire from these things.” Perhaps other noxious weeds don’t quite have the charisma that puncture vine does – the ability to “unify everyone together” – but that’s okay. I’ll just have to find a way to celebrate each of them some other way. As it is, we now have Boise Goathead Fest, and if that means that every summer for years to come people will be donning goathead costumes and coming together to party in a positive way, what more can we ask for?
We live on a green planet, so it is no surprise that plants frequently find their way into our artwork. They make excellent subjects after all; and arguably, botanical art can be a close second (if not a tie) to seeing the real thing.
No place is plant-themed art needed more than in urban areas. Despite trying to cram plants in wherever we can find room, our cities remain dominated by concrete, asphalt, and steel. Plants help soften the hard edges we create, and they reintroduce nature to something that otherwise seems unnatural. But there isn’t always space for plants. Botanical art is the next best thing.
When I’m not looking out for plants, I’m looking out for plant art. What follows are a few of my discoveries this past year in my hometown of Boise, Idaho and beyond. In future travels, I hope to find more botanical art in other urban areas. Meanwhile, please feel free to share with me the botanical art in your neighborhood, either through twitter, tumblr, or some other means.