When touched, the hypersensitive makahiya plant folds its minuscule leaflets inward, protecting itself from any potential threat.
Florence Solis draws on this defensive response in an ethereal collection of portraits. Beginning with digital collages that meld figures and delicate, organic ornaments, the Filipino-Canadian artist translates the imagined forms to the canvas. Shrouded in dainty, beaded veils or entwined with botanicals, each protagonist appears bound and concealed, their bodies and faces obscured by hair or grass.
“Sirena” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches
As Solis sees it, the figures may be restricted, but they’re also able to find strength and transformation. “Filipino women, much like the makahiya, have been taught to yield, to soften, to take up less space,” she says. “And yet, beneath this quietness lies an undeniable force—one that persists, adapts, and reclaims space in its own way.”
Working in saturated, often single-color palettes, Solis renders figures who appear to harness magical powers. She references Filipino folklore and the belief in the power of the everyday to lead to the divine, painting women rooted in tradition and myth, yet determined to see their transformation through.
The vivid portraits shown here will be on view at EXPO CHICAGO this week with The Mission Projects. Find more from Solis on Instagram.
“Sa Lupa (On Ground)” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches“Totem” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches“Makahiya VIII” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 20 x 16 inches“Makahiya VII” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 48 x 36 inches“Alay (Offering)” (2025), acrylic on canvas, 48 x 36 inches
Tom Leighton (previously) is known for highlighting plants’ photosynthesis process by swapping their characteristic greens for otherworldly fluorescent colors. Often focused on the nightlife of specimens found around his Cornwall home, Leighton photographs in a manner that turns common species into extraordinary subjects.
His newest series, Spines, expands on this trajectory. The macro images concentrate on the fine fibers cloaking stems and flowers. Water droplets cling to the surfaces as if the plants had just emerged from a heavy downpour. The glistening botanicals capture the surrounding light, while the thick dew drops add a glimmering, skewed view of the lifeforms that reside underneath.
Prints of Leighton’s images are available on his website. Keep up with his latest projects on Behance and Instagram.
“I want to explode the idea of beautiful ikebana,” says Kosen Ohtsubo, one of the foremost conceptual artists working in the Japanese tradition.
Since the 1970s, Ohtsubo has been unsettling the ancient art of flower arranging. Incorporating atypical botanicals like cabbage leaves or weaving in unconventional materials like bathtubs and scrap metal, the artist approaches making with the mindset of a jazz musician, a genre he frequently listens to while working. Improvisation and experimentation are at the core, along with an unquenchable desire for the unexpected.
Detail of Kosen Ohtsubo, “Linga München” (2025), 300 Basket willow branches, candle, metal frame, plastic and metal ties, scrap metal, soil, various flowers and leaves
An exhibition at Kunstverein München in Munich pairs Ohtsubo with Christian Kōun Alborz Oldham who, after discovering the ikebana icon’s work in a book in 2013, became his student. Titled Flower Planet—which references a sign that hangs outside Ohtsubo’s Tokorozawa home and studio—the show presents various sculptures and installations that invite viewers to consider fragility, decay, and the elusive qualities of beauty and control.
Given the ephemeral nature of the materials, photography plays an important role in most ikebana practices as it preserves an arrangement long after it has wilted. This exhibition, therefore, pairs images of earlier works with new commissions, including Ohtsubo’s standout orb titled “Linga München.” Nested in a bed of soil and leaves, the large-scale sculpture wraps willow with metal structures and positions a small candle within its center.
Similarly immersive is “Willow Rain,” which suspends thin branches from the ceiling. Subverting the way we typically encounter fields of growth, the work is one of many in the exhibition that seeds questions about our relationship to the natural world and the limits of human control.
Flower Planet is on view through April 21. Explore Ohstubo’s vast archive on Instagram.
Kosen Ohtsubo, “ケロイド人間 / Keloid Man” (August 1976), mannequin, paulownia. First published in Ikebana Ryusei Magazine, October 1976. Photo by Ryusei Photo DepartmentDetail of Kosen Ohtsubo, “Linga München” (2025), 300 Basket willow branches, candle, metal frame, plastic and metal ties, scrap metal, soil, various flowers and leavesKosen Ohtsubo, “Willow Rain” (2025), 800 basket willow branches, metal frameChristian Kōun Alborz Oldham, “This is happening because we live today in a time of corruption […],” (September 27 to November 4, 2017), asparagus. Photo by Jueqian FangChristian Kōun Alborz Oldham, “Penny Waking up from a Dream” (2025), carrot, Chinese long bean, reflecting sphere, Japanese woven bamboo basketDetail of Christian Kōun Alborz Oldham, “Penny Waking up from a Dream” (2025), carrot, Chinese long bean, reflecting sphere, Japanese woven bamboo basketDetail of Kosen Ohtsubo, “Linga München” (2025), 300 Basket willow branches, candle, metal frame, plastic and metal ties, scrap metal, soil, various flowers and leavesKosen Ohtsubo, “怪芋III / Strange Callas III” (2025), Calla lily, willow, custom-designed iron box
On candy-colored paper, Rhea Mack draws a world in which all misfits are welcome. The Massachusetts-based artist lovingly renders curious characters with three heads, flowers growing from their palms, or a penchant for plump, strawberry hats.
Mack has a soft spot for these strange oddballs who develop organically, often springing from her Sunday morning sessions seemingly on their own accord. “I usually start drawing, and they just kind of develop over a few hours. I sometimes have a certain feeling or pose in mind, but mostly I am just making it up as I go,” she says.
This intuitive, accommodating attitude influences much of her process, including the decision to draw on pink paper simply “because it made sense,” she says. Mack chooses other materials similarly. “The colored pencil pinks I use in my drawings are very buttery and just feel nice to draw with,” she adds.
As if emerging from a favorite fairytale—creating a children’s book is on Mack’s mind—the drawings twist common plants and animals like dogs and daisies into surreal fantasies. Each is packed with small moments of intrigue and playful patterns like stripes and dots.
In one work, for example, a full human skeleton and dozens of single eyes float from a figure’s gaze, while a pink pup leaps overhead. Another features a quintet bound by a rainbow dress, their bulbous, beige coifs fused together like the clouds above.
Mack’s solo exhibition Massachusetts Dreaming opens next week at Kyst Gallery in Dragor, Denmark, and is on view through May 8. Find prints in her shop, and follow her work on Instagram. (via WePresent)
Nature has always been a subject of fascination for Clara Lacy, who roamed the fields and streams around her home in Hampshire when she was young, spurring an interest in studying biology. Art also emerged as a way for her to channel her interest in animals and plants, tapping into the long-held tradition of artists documenting flora and fauna for science.
As she moved around to different parts of the world, with stints in Hong Kong and Sydney before returning to the U.K., Lacy absorbed each place’s variations in botanical life, weather, and light, inspiring a body of work that reflects on climate change, species loss, and “the need to find balance between humans and nature,” she says.
“Thanatos”
The World Has Dropped Its Petals is a series of elaborately detailed graphite drawings illuminating the world of flowers. In heavily contrasted grayscale, the blooms are devoid of the bright colors we typically associate with their petals and foliage, instead highlighted by an array of textures and naturally occurring patterns.
“I’ve always been drawn to monotone work for its subtle tonal variations, offering a contrast to the bombardment of colour and light around us, all vying for our attention,” Lacy tells Colossal. She was drawn to graphite because its limited palette helps the subject to stand out through contrasts like delicate lines or deep blacks. She’s also interested in how graphite is often overlooked in fine art, classified typically as a sketching material rather than a standalone medium.
Lacy titles her pieces after characters in Greek myth like Thanatos, the personification of death, and twin brothers Nyx (Night) and Hypnos (Sleep). She uses her own photos for reference, collaging and layering components in Photoshop until she finds an overall composition that resonates. The World Has Dropped Its Petals draws inspiration from stills lifes of the Dutch Golden Age, too, characterized by dark backgrounds from which flowers or fruit appear to pop in brilliance.
The series is on view through April 13 at James Gorst Architects in London. Lacy has also started working on a new project exploring time and aging, which emphasizes zoomed-in views of flower fragments. Find more on the artist’s website and Instagram.
Every year, Lili Arnold’s mother would block-print holiday cards to send to family and friends. When she was old enough to wield a carving tool, Arnold began to make her own, too. But it wasn’t until college, when she took an Intro to Printmaking class, that she became enthralled with the practice’s myriad methods.
Block printing specifically captured Arnold’s attention because of its relatively simple components and technique—no giant presses required. The block can expand in scale, incorporate different colors, or be layered with numerous pressings.
“Strelitzia Reginae, a.k.a. Bird of Paradise”
“I think what I love most about the process is seeing my first print after so many hours of sketching, planning, carving, and troubleshooting,” Arnold tells Colossal. “There’s a lot of thought and time invested in the steps before the actual print becomes real, so when I see that first reveal, it’s both terrifying and thrilling.”
Arnold’s compositions often revolve around natural subjects, especially botanicals like cacti and tropical flowers. She is fascinated by the environment’s infinite interaction of colors, textures, patterns, and symmetry.
“There’s such vast diversity of plant life out there, each ecosystem encapsulating unique details and wonders,” she says. “We as artists and botanical patrons have the pleasure of translating and expressing our appreciation of this beauty through our artwork, writing, gardening, exploring, and beyond.”
Follow updates on Arnold’s Instagram, and browse prints available for purchase in her shop.
“Zantedeschia Albomaculata, a.k.a. Spotted Calla Lily III”“Palm Study III”“Emergence of Spring”“Opuntia Ficus-Indica, a.k.a. Prickly Pear”Blocks ready for printingPulling “Opuntia Ficus-Indica, a.k.a. Prickly Pear”Block for “Banksia Prolata”
In Nahuatl, an Aztec language indigenous to Mesoamerica still spoken by more than a million people throughout Mexico, kauani means “to flourish.” Designers Inés Quezada and Inés Llasera, co-founders of Tornasol Studio, conceived of a series of luminaires inspired by native flora in celebration of the region’s rich botanic diversity.
The ongoing series, KAUANI, emulates details of endemic species, drawing on textures found on cacti, geometric agaves, and the rhythmic patterns of corn. The duo also find inspiration in the unique seeds of mamey and guanabana fruits or the pigmentation of cacao and chili peppers.
“Cacti symbolize resilience,” Quezada and Llasera say in a statement, sharing how the plants’ adaptations to extreme environments mean they can endure long droughts and high temperatures. The pair adds:
For instance, their spines not only serve as a defense mechanism but also condense water and create a protective layer. Their pale pigmentation, resulting from waxes that insulate their tissues and their water-retention capabilities grant them unique volumetric forms. Unlike most plants, cacti perform photosynthesis at night, closing their stomata during the day to conserve water and nutrients. It is in darkness that they truly “breathe.”
Merging natural forms of fruit and botanicals with textiles, the lanterns incorporate knitted skins with delicate spikes, ruffles, or tentacles that tread the line between representation and abstraction. Melon-like orbs and oblong shapes reminiscent of seed pods are suspended from the ceiling or propped up on surfaces with spindly feet.
If you’re in Mexico City, you can see KAUANI in Noches Árides through May 15 at AGO Projects. Explore more on the designers’ website, and follow updates on Instagram.
“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote in his 1943 novella The Little Prince, a sentiment that drives Rui Sasaki’s work. From what the artist (previously) describes as a “mysterious and ambiguous material,” botanicals appear to float in frozen cubes of water.
Sasaki employs glass to document and preserve the nature of the present. Works like “Subtle Intimacy” respond to places and experiences in which she feels an affinity with her surroundings. “It is vital for me to connect who I am and where I am, especially when I am in unfamiliar spaces,” the artist tells Colossal. She likens intimacy to nostalgia, exploring the depth of feeling associated with memories, comfort, and security.
“Subtle Intimacy 2012-2023” (2023), glass, plants, LED, and aluminum, 253.5 x 310 x 332 centimeters. Collection of 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa. Photo by Nik van der Giesen
Sasaki traces her fascination with the medium to childhood, specifically to its visual similarities to the surfaces of ponds or lakes. “I was always wondering how I could make something out of water,” she says. “When I saw molten glass at a glassblowing studio during a summer family trip in Okinawa, I fell in love with it.”
Sasaki moved to the U.S. from Japan in 2007, then returned to Japan nearly five years later, and she began incorporating plants into her work as response to reverse culture shock—a means to “recover my senses from my loss of intimacy and home in my mother country,” she says.
Enchanted by how plants can express experiences of her surroundings, Sasaki portrays individual botanicals in sculptures ranging in size from a few feet wide to room-size installations. She says:
Collecting plants is the most important aspect of the work. I use all my five senses in gathering plants. That helps me to recall my past memories, especially in my childhood, and to connect my feelings of intimacy towards my country, Japan.
Sasaki places collected specimens between two sheets of glass and fires the piece in a kiln. The plant turns to white ash, leaving the impression of petals, leaves, and veins. Air bubbles that naturally emerge in the heat are also preserved in what the artist likens to a time capsule. The original form of the plant no longer exists but its impression endures.
Detail of “Subtle Intimacy 2012-2023″ (2023). Photo by Nik van der Giesen
Dualities like presence and absence, fragility and strength, and transparency and opacity merge with Sasaki’s interest in “befriending” glass while reveling in the knowledge that she will never fully comprehend everything about it.
If you’re in Denmark, you can see Sasaki’s sculptures at Glas from March 22 to September 28 in Ebeltoft. Her work will also be on view later this year at the Aichi Triennale 2025. Explore more on the artist’s website, and follow Instagram for updates.
When it comes to foliage, there’s a reason it’s called “greenery.” But for Cornwall-based photographer Tom Leighton, common plants take on otherworldly dimensions when rendered in unexpected hues.
The artist’s latest series, Fabled Gardens II, focuses predominantly on giant rhubarb, ferns, and rhododendrons, highlighting the captivating patterns and layers of leaves, fronds, and flowers. Leighton illuminates the botanicals at night, setting crisp outlines against dark backgrounds.
Leighton’s photographs (previously) emphasize what he describes as the “forces that shape the natural world,” tapping into the power of light and color to illustrate dynamic biological processes like photosynthesis, reproduction, growth, and decay.
The artist is currently preparing for forthcoming print releases. Follow updates on Instagram, and explore more on his website and Behance.
In the wake of World War II panic and paranoia, the U.S. government feared that Japanese Americans would commit acts of sabotage against the nation. Along with some 120,000 Japanese Americans living in the western part of the country, Ruth Asawa (1926-2013) and her family—separated from their father, who was sent to a camp in New Mexico—were uprooted in 1942 and sent to another internment camp hastily organized at the Santa Anita race track in Arcadia, California. There, Asawa and her siblings lived in two horse stalls for five months.
Since Asawa no longer had to work on the farm, she began to fill her days by drawing. “Among the detainees were animators from the Walt Disney Studios, who taught art in the grandstands of the race track,” says the artist’s estate. “In September, the Asawa family was sent by train to an incarceration camp in Rohwer, Arkansas, where Ruth continued to spend most of her free time painting and drawing.” This creative practice would shape the rest of her life.
At David Zwirner in Hong Kong, a new exhibition titled Doing Is Living celebrates Asawa’s renowned wire sculptures (previously) and intimate works on paper. The show marks the first solo presentation of her work in Greater China, focusing on the artist’s connection with the natural world.
“I study nature and a lot of these forms come from observing plants,” Asawa said in a 1995 interview. “I really look at nature, and I just do it as I see it. I draw something on paper. And then I am able to take a wire line and go into the air and define the air without stealing it from anyone.”
Asawa began developing her wire sculptures in the 1940s while a student at Black Mountain College. An experimental liberal arts school nestled in the hills of rural North Carolina, the college was a progressive program designed to shape young people into well-rounded individuals who could think critically as they proceeded into society.
The school centered democratic processes, placing the responsibility for education with the students themselves, who often weighed in on admissions and new faculty selections. Students were expected to contribute to everyday operations by working on the farm, cooking in the kitchen, and constructing school buildings and furniture as needed.
Asawa enrolled at BMC in 1946 and spent three years there. “Teachers there were practicing artists,” she said. “There was no separation between studying, performing the daily chores, and relating to many art forms.” She counted painter Josef Albers, inventor Buckminster Fuller, mathematician Max Dehn—and many others—among lifelong influences. “Through them, I came to understand the total commitment required if one must be an artist,” she added.
“For Asawa, her time at Black Mountain was so transformative because its culture gave her the right to do anything she wanted to do,” says her estate, adding:
For the first time, she was expected to have an opinion. She encountered teachers who gave her the freedom and responsibility to fail or succeed as only she could, as a unique individual. She lived among strong, creative women—Trude Guermonprez, Anni Albers, and Marguerite Wildenhain, to name a few—who lived as working artists. Black Mountain College gave her the courage to become an artist and the creed by which she would live the rest of her life.
In late 1949, after her time at the college, Asawa moved to San Francisco with Albert Lanier, whom she soon married. In the 1950s, prestigious exhibitions like the Whitney Biennial and a show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art introduced her work to a growing audience. Asawa was also passionate about education, and she became the driving force behind the creation of the San Francisco School of the Arts.
When she began working with wire, Asawa experimented with relatively conventional basket designs before moving into biomorphic, abstract works that could be strung from the ceiling. She learned a crochet technique in Toluca, Mexico, where she visited Josef Albers in 1947 while he was on sabbatical.
Many of her works incorporate nested, membrane-like “form-within-a-form” layers in which elements appear to fold in on themselves or turn inside-out. Asawa later remarked, “What I was excited by was that I could make a shape that was inside and outside at the same time.”
Doing Is Living highlights intricate, ethereal pieces that merge elements of textile and sculpture. Delicate and airy, her compositions “range from elaborate multi-lobed compositions to small spheres and billowing conical forms that require extreme technical dexterity to achieve,” the gallery says. Highlights also include her heavier tied-wire pieces, which she began making in 1962, which showcase branch-like organic forms and biological phenomena.
“After having been gifted a desert plant whose branches split exponentially as they grew, Asawa quickly became frustrated by her attempts to replicate its structure in two dimensions,” the gallery says. “Instead, she utilized industrial wire as a means of mimicking the form through sculpture and, in doing so, studying its shape.” Asawa was fascinated by the permeability of the sculptures and the viewer’s ability to look through them, like seeing the sky between tree branches.
“Relentlessly experimental across a variety of mediums, Asawa moved effortlessly between abstract and figurative registers in both two and three dimensions,” the gallery says. The work in this show spans five decades and exemplifies the range of media and techniques she employed in her career.
Doing Is Living continues through February 22. Learn more about the exhibition on David Zwirner’s website, and dive further into Asawa’s work and biography on her estate’s website.