Flowers are fascinating. Everyone loves flowers. Millions of people the world over dedicate serious hobby time to cultivating flowers in their yards and gardens for the sheer pleasure of it. Nothing signals the end of winter like the arrival of the first flowers. Often while there are still patches of snow on the ground, the pasque flower or the hyacinth poke their beautiful selves through the frozen dirt and initiate the parade of colour. And I defy you to find another motif that is as greatly re-presented in art as a flower is.
The ancient Egyptians obsessively represented the lotus flower in their art.
Ancient Chinese and Japanese painters perfected stylized drawings of flowers.
The Navajo worshiped the squash blossom and added its stylized representation to jewelry.
Georgia O'Keefe sexualized the flower, depicting it flowers in brazen ways that the flower had never been considered before.
Flowers are decorative, edible, medicinal and poisonous. They are prized garden beauties and nuisance weeds. They are offered to loved ones when words are not enough, at births, weddings, anniversaries, deaths, offered to the ailing and the unhappy. They say "I'm sorry" and "I love you." They decorate every conceivable surface in every imaginable style from clothing to tombstones. They are prissy, funky, brazen, hippie, nostalgic, and hopeful. Perhaps in some way they embody in physical form our beautiful souls