Bringing the Outdoors In: Exploring Nature's Influence on Art

The beginning of this year was cold. This sentence alone seems like an understatement. It was the sort of temperature that demanded leggings under baggy jeans, a thermal top under my jumper, thick socks, a scarf, gloves that made my hands appear twice their size, and earmuffs that made me look five years younger. Feeling like a stuffed toy, I braved the frosty, crisp air one January afternoon and headed to a nearby park in search of some leaves. You may be wondering why leaves, but I'll get to that in a minute.

I strolled through the park, eyes fixed on the ground, looking for fallen leaves. Anyone walking past may have wondered whether I had lost something precious at the park. Anyhow, I continued my search - on the lookout for differently shaped leaves. The process surprisingly felt therapeutic. In between all the pausing and staring at each leaf, there was an odd sense of calmness.

Having gathered several leaves in one hand, I marvelled at my collection and felt like a child in awe of the variety, textures and differences in colour. I took this collection home as if I were a curator. My amma opened the house door, looking a little puzzled at what I was holding. I told her that it was for my artwork, and she said 'ahh' as if it all made sense - perhaps she suddenly remembered all the different materials I had previously brought home in the name of art as my excuse.

So, why did I need leaves? Over the Christmas break, I came across an Instagram reel where an artist hammered flowers and leaves onto printing paper. I wanted to replicate this, though I had already run into two problems. One, I couldn't find a hammer in the house... well, I didn't try very hard. I looked for five minutes (if that) and settled for a rolling pin. Two, I couldn't find flowers at the park. The time of the year meant my chances of finding flowers in the local park were close to zero. Gathering printing paper, a plastic sheet, a rolling pin, and a bunch of leaves, I set out to attempt this activity.

I picked a leaf from my collection, placed it face down on white paper, and laid a plastic sheet on top. Using the rolling pin as a hammer, I pressed the leaf onto the paper. Eagerly, I lifted the leaf off the paper and quickly noticed that this experiment wasn't a huge success, as what appeared were speckles of green. I repeated the process with a different leaf, but this didn't seem to change my outcome.

Recognising that this activity wasn't going the way I wanted, I started thinking about what else I could do with the remaining leaves. So, I considered flower pressing (well, in this case, leaf pressing?). I gathered my A3 sketchbook, arranged the leaves on a page, closed the book and placed it on my bookshelf with multiple books stacked on top.

Three weeks later, I opened this sketchbook to draw with a friend, forgetting that I had pressed leaves in the exact book. Staring at the flattened leaves, I was now reminded that I needed to do something about the leaves I had collected.

After working from home one Monday, I wanted to use the flattened leaves and paint to create a print. I gathered my acrylic paints and paint brushes, and headed to my usual space to create: the dining room.

Using a flat brush, I coated a leaf with white paint. I noticed how the paint made the fine lines within the leaf more prominent. I placed the leaf face down on the black card and gently pressed my palm over it, careful not to smudge the white paint. I lifted the leaf off the paper, only to find smudges of white paint and very few lines.

Had I not added enough paint? Am I using the right paper and paint? Perhaps I need a weight heavier than my palm?

I expected this to be a fairly simple task, but for reasons I haven't worked out yet, I couldn't get the leaves to print the way I had imagined.

At this point on this Monday evening, I had given up - my mind just wanted to listen to music, experiment and see what I could create. Without too much hesitation, I picked up a recent sketch of mine, gold acrylic paint and another leaf to attempt another leaf print - but this time on my portrait drawing. Though again, I lifted the leaf off the page and immediately knew that I didn't like it. 

This evening had now been filled with several art mishaps, and oddly, I was more accepting of this.

Gazing at the remaining leaves, thinking about what to do now. I began arranging the leaves across the portrait sketch.

Eventually, I found an arrangement I was satisfied with. With this contentment, I smeared some glue on the back of the leaves and cautiously placed them back in their intended positions. 

With the unused leaves spread across the table, I stuck them in my sketchbook - as a reminder of the time I experimented with leaves and mostly, a reminder that not all artwork goes to plan, and that is ok. 

Perhaps I will repeat this process in the summer and see how my outcomes differ. In the meantime, if you have any tips for improving my approach or a story about when something didn’t go as planned for you, I'd love to hear about it.