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.
Rice harvests produce straw, a natural byproduct of the dried grain. Traditionally, the material could be used for a wide variety of objects from tatami mats to food wrappers to carrier bags. Many of those products are now made using synthetic materials, and rice straw is more often used for ceremonial or sacred decorations like Shinto shimenawa festoons, which are installed around the New Year and can range from a few centimeters to several meters long.
For Tokyo-based artist ARKO, rice straw finds a contemporary application in elegant wall hangings. “I started thinking that it should be something new, apart from the old traditions, given that there must be a reason why straw vanished from our life,” she says.
Interested in the organic nature of the medium, ARKO embraces how environmental changes can influence the look of the work as a reminder that the fiber originated from the ground. Sometimes moisture in the air makes the pieces feel heavy or the straw will emit a scent. Most of the time she maintains the natural color of the thin stalks, occasionally dying layers black or using contrasting string to hold the composition together.
“In modern times, straw has been replaced by artificial materials and is manufactured with the premise of environmental pollution. (It) is mass-produced and discarded in large quantities,” ARKO says. Although she doesn’t prescribe a ritual meaning to the work, the sculptures evoke “the laws of nature and the great power of life that are often overlooked in modern society where economy takes priority.”
Rice harvests produce straw, a natural byproduct of the dried grain. Traditionally, the material could be used for a wide variety of objects from tatami mats to food wrappers to carrier bags. Many of those products are now made using synthetic materials, and rice straw is more often used for ceremonial or sacred decorations like Shinto shimenawa festoons, which are installed around the New Year and can range from a few centimeters to several meters long.
For Tokyo-based artist ARKO, rice straw finds a contemporary application in elegant wall hangings. “I started thinking that it should be something new, apart from the old traditions, given that there must be a reason why straw vanished from our life,” she says.
Interested in the organic nature of the medium, ARKO embraces how environmental changes can influence the look of the work as a reminder that the fiber originated from the ground. Sometimes moisture in the air makes the pieces feel heavy or the straw will emit a scent. Most of the time she maintains the natural color of the thin stalks, occasionally dying layers black or using contrasting string to hold the composition together.
“In modern times, straw has been replaced by artificial materials and is manufactured with the premise of environmental pollution. (It) is mass-produced and discarded in large quantities,” ARKO says. Although she doesn’t prescribe a ritual meaning to the work, the sculptures evoke “the laws of nature and the great power of life that are often overlooked in modern society where economy takes priority.”
Behind barred motifs evocative of a wrought iron fence, otherworldly flowers are in full bloom, their heads stretching wide and tall while tendrils and leafy vines wind around the open barriers. Rendered in contrasting palettes of jewel tones and pale, muted hues, these uncanny plants are part of the latest body of work by Mevlana Lipp.
While visiting Venice earlier this year, the Cologne-based artist admired the elaborately patterned fencing that wove its way throughout the historic islands. “As I wandered through the city, I noticed the intricate metal bars on many windows,” he says. “For me, these bars symbolize a barrier between the world I inhabit and the fictional place I long for.”
“Seven” (2024), wood, velvet, acrylic color, ink, sand, aluminum stretcher, 45 x 33 x 4 centimeters
Vista is the culmination of this inspiration and presents an electrifying botanical collection. For these pieces, Lipp continues to meld painting and sculpture, as he layers acrylic paint, ink, and sand onto intricately cut wooden panels, which he positions atop velvet. This soft material interacts with the mottled, spotted, and patterned textures of the painted components and bolsters the sense of depth, becoming a vast chasm behind the fantastical florals.
Compared to his previous works, though, Vista ventures into warmer, brighter color palettes. The artist shares:
While the dark blue, green, and lilac backgrounds often create a sense of infinite voids, I wanted to explore other imageries as well. Think of an icy cold mist or a red desert stretching endlessly into the distance. I wanted to create works which have a wider array of temperatures.
Lipp’s interest in expanding his palette dovetails with the symbolic elements of his work. As the artist sees it, plants are metaphors for base instincts and emotion, as they commune with each other and various species without the same social and cultural pressures of humans. Broadening his formal approach offers more room for spontaneity and unrestrained exchanges. “When you walk into the forest, you take a look at all the existing connections, at how things interact with each other without fear,” he says. “Plants don’t run the risk of hurting each other’s feelings.”
Behind barred motifs evocative of a wrought iron fence, otherworldly flowers are in full bloom, their heads stretching wide and tall while tendrils and leafy vines wind around the open barriers. Rendered in contrasting palettes of jewel tones and pale, muted hues, these uncanny plants are part of the latest body of work by Mevlana Lipp.
While visiting Venice earlier this year, the Cologne-based artist admired the elaborately patterned fencing that wove its way throughout the historic islands. “As I wandered through the city, I noticed the intricate metal bars on many windows,” he says. “For me, these bars symbolize a barrier between the world I inhabit and the fictional place I long for.”
“Seven” (2024), wood, velvet, acrylic color, ink, sand, aluminum stretcher, 45 x 33 x 4 centimeters
Vista is the culmination of this inspiration and presents an electrifying botanical collection. For these pieces, Lipp continues to meld painting and sculpture, as he layers acrylic paint, ink, and sand onto intricately cut wooden panels, which he positions atop velvet. This soft material interacts with the mottled, spotted, and patterned textures of the painted components and bolsters the sense of depth, becoming a vast chasm behind the fantastical florals.
Compared to his previous works, though, Vista ventures into warmer, brighter color palettes. The artist shares:
While the dark blue, green, and lilac backgrounds often create a sense of infinite voids, I wanted to explore other imageries as well. Think of an icy cold mist or a red desert stretching endlessly into the distance. I wanted to create works which have a wider array of temperatures.
Lipp’s interest in expanding his palette dovetails with the symbolic elements of his work. As the artist sees it, plants are metaphors for base instincts and emotion, as they commune with each other and various species without the same social and cultural pressures of humans. Broadening his formal approach offers more room for spontaneity and unrestrained exchanges. “When you walk into the forest, you take a look at all the existing connections, at how things interact with each other without fear,” he says. “Plants don’t run the risk of hurting each other’s feelings.”
Swathed in patterned coats, overlooking expansive vistas, or reveling the joys of solitude, the characters in Rosanna Tasker’s illustrations (previously) delight in simple pleasures. Emphasizing the potential of color and contrast to create a sense of warmth and depth, figures bask in glowing interiors, and landscapes fade into the blue of distance.
Tasker’s figures are often camouflaged or miniaturized by their towering surroundings, whether wandering among stacks of textiles or strolling through a grove of trees. “Recently, I’ve been enjoying playing with pattern, light and depth,” she tells Colossal. “I’m always aiming for the balance of challenging my comfort zone while also staying true to my natural style.”
Illustration for Singing Holidays
While she can’t yet divulge some of the exciting projects in the works for the coming year, Tasker is currently working on another illustration for Singing Holidays, which plans music-focused tours around Europe and elsewhere.
She enjoys working with clients that provide open briefs and lend their full trust. For example, Singing Holidays gives her “the space to really experiment with my work and create images that are mostly self initiated, while still having some parameters or starting points to work within—which is my favourite type of commission and when I feel most creative,” she says.
Prints and calendars are available in Tasker’s online shop, and you can explore more work on both her website and Instagram.
Illustration for ‘Good Housekeeping’Illustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus BooksIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus BooksIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus Books
Swathed in patterned coats, overlooking expansive vistas, or reveling the joys of solitude, the characters in Rosanna Tasker’s illustrations (previously) delight in simple pleasures. Emphasizing the potential of color and contrast to create a sense of warmth and depth, figures bask in glowing interiors, and landscapes fade into the blue of distance.
Tasker’s figures are often camouflaged or miniaturized by their towering surroundings, whether wandering among stacks of textiles or strolling through a grove of trees. “Recently, I’ve been enjoying playing with pattern, light and depth,” she tells Colossal. “I’m always aiming for the balance of challenging my comfort zone while also staying true to my natural style.”
Illustration for Singing Holidays
While she can’t yet divulge some of the exciting projects in the works for the coming year, Tasker is currently working on another illustration for Singing Holidays, which plans music-focused tours around Europe and elsewhere.
She enjoys working with clients that provide open briefs and lend their full trust. For example, Singing Holidays gives her “the space to really experiment with my work and create images that are mostly self initiated, while still having some parameters or starting points to work within—which is my favourite type of commission and when I feel most creative,” she says.
Prints and calendars are available in Tasker’s online shop, and you can explore more work on both her website and Instagram.
Illustration for ‘Good Housekeeping’Illustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus BooksIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus BooksIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for Singing HolidaysIllustration for ‘Self Care For Winter’ by Suzy Reading, published by Octopus Books