How to have sex with a flower: the art of hybridization

Nectarine Dusk by Beth Surdut

If you think this going to be about sex as you know it, you're going to be disappointed, although giving these luscious little hand painted hibiscus pieces might lead to a really good time.

 Hybridization is about sex of the floral kind. Beautiful colors, the right scent, some pollinator action, and the appropriate reproductive organs make flowers ripe for pro-creation. There's even a peduncle involved, which is the piece of the stem that's attached to the flower, not some totally creepy relative who should be locked up. And, as if life isn't already confusing, the stigma, florally speaking, is the receptor of the female flower's reproductive organ.
 Hybridizing is the act of "crossing" flowers to obtain a seed pod. This creates seeds that are completely unique, and, just like humans, the offspring can be even better looking than their parents... or just different. You get to be your own mad scientist with a cotton swab and sperm donor.

Peachy keen by Beth Surdut

Turns out that flower sex is best in the morning. Sperm dries up in the heat of the day and no amount of boom-boom pills is going to make that pollen functional.  Choose a good looking male (flower), pick up his/its pollen on the cotton swab--the more sperm, the better. Rub that sperm onto the female stigma (sooo much more fun than a stigmata). In dry climates, maybe a little shpritz from a mister--this is not a euphemism; I'm talking a bottle with water and a sprayer. 
The goal is to create new seeds and a plant with a resulting flower you can name after yourself or your pet or your kid, if you are so inclined.  There's even a special place for you, the floral yenta/Dr. Frankenstein, to record the parents. It's called a stud book. No, not making this up. 
Know that crosses do not always come to fruition. Just like humans, sometimes the seed capsules do not mature during the 60-90 days of waiting. Who knew flowers could be so sexy? But let's be clear, this  is all about  the seed that will become the plant that will produce the flower, maybe. 

Roxanne's red dress by Beth Surdut

I'm not that patient. Instead I painted my idea of hybrids on silk using fiber-reactive dyes and gold-flaked resist. The images are approximately 11 inches (not so square) and 15.5" square framed and glassed.
$175 includes domestic shipping per piece. If you purchase the gang of three, I'll give you a discount and no, you can not trade sex for art. 

Monsoon:Quench My Thirst,  43" x 32" $2100

Elemental/Transcendental: The Goddess Returns

I  was one of 10 artists in Santa Fe chosen  to participate in the national Herradura Art Barrel challenge. The local judges at the event Nov  3 chose a Day of the  Dead pop art piece and gave the winner  10,000 dollars.

Elemental/Transcendental: The Goddess Returns 

As pieces of the barrel fell away from my jigsaw, I spotted a rusty horseshoe nailed to the fence. “For good luck,” I said, and set the herradura in my studio next to the silk I painted — material fine enough for a celebration at Hacienda San José del Refugio, the original home of the Herradura tequila estate.

This piece raises a glass to transformation and transcendence. Fire, perhaps from the  heated breath of El Dragon, transforms agave and oak, shapeshifting into a seductive libation coveted around the world. Here, Mayahuel, Goddess of Agave, rises from her death, her lover’s devoted tears mingling with hers to add magical elements found only in exceptional tequila.

  

However, there is more to this magical  story of  love, death and  resurrection...

Mayahuel's  Sorrow by Beth Surdut

How to stuff a dragon and raise a goddess:

The story begins with the fertility goddess Mayahuel being killed by a jealous rival--- chopped  into little pieces! Mayahuel's  lover, Quetzalcoatl,  cried over her remains for days and  continued to return to the place where she was  killed. The gods pitied him and gave his tears magical powers that transformed Mayahuel into the blue agave plant from which the finest  tequila is made. But  in  the  process of making  that  coveted elixir, more  destruction  ensues.

First the agaves are cut and  mutated by  fire.

Oak trees are cut down, made into barrels,and the barrels are charred on the inside to impart a  smoky  flavor to the tequila that  comes only from the Jalisco region of  Mexico, where  there is  said to  be a  black 7-headed  dragon  living  underground. No one has  actually  seen  El  Dragon, or if  they  have, not  lived to ascertain the number of  heads.

El Dragon tries to escape the studio

In order to keep the  sugar  content high in the agave, the flower stalk is cut before it can bloom into a  myriad of  tiny  yellow flowers.

Out of all this violence and destruction, the feminine divine rises.  I  started with the hard jagged edges of agave-- cutting, sanding and  painting each  stave of the barrel. (oy, such shmutz!) I painted El  Dragon on  silk, then  stuffed  him and  placed  him a in the  barrel along with  the  shadows of  two  more of his heads. The  lower  column and the tall one are  painted silk that I  attached to  heavy  lampshade  material. Each  column is  lit  with tiny lights  on the inside.Mayahuel's head  is covered with  cut  pieces if silk, wired  ribbon  edged  with  god  beads, and  plant  material  sprayed with  gold  glitter. There are  also translucent golden faceted  beads to emulate the agave  flower and droplets  of  tequila. even as she  rises, transformed, 

she cries golden tears.

Much thought, work, adhesives, and  money  went into this piece, so I'd like as many people as possible to see it before  it  gets auctioned for charity.. Please pass this along, post, tweet, or call out the link from the rooftops.

The Goddess Returns  by Beth Surdut

Dragon  shadows