Detail of Abraham Mignon’s Still Life with Flowers and a Watch, c. 1660–79. Rijkmuseum, Amsterdam. Dupper Wzn. Bequest, Dordrecht.
From Islamic Art to Dutch Old Masters, Discover the Fascinating Stories Told by Flower Still Lifes
One of the most enduring subjects in the history of art, flowers and the language they carry have captured the imaginations of artists for centuries
- By Sarah Bochicchio
- Meet the Experts
In the 16th century, the Flemish botanist Carolus Crusius became fascinated by tulips. His writings, which have been translated today into A Treatise on Tulips, cover his myriad observations on the flowers, from their nodding stalks to their fragrances—even their “not unpleasing taste.” Complete with illustrations, the text reads as a scientific study, though also loving and verbose.
At one point, Crusius wrote as an aside, “And this also I have observed, that any tulip thus changing its original color is usually ruined afterwards and wanted only to delight its master’s eyes with this variety of colors before dying, as if to bid him a last farewell.” Crusius describes that the variegated flowers are not only beautiful, but they connect with their cultivators. He thus pinpointed something essential: that flowers, perhaps one of the most enduring subjects in the history of art, evoke something in the viewer, inspiring the production of words and images. This reaction may be one reason that flowers have, for centuries, carried their own language and symbols.
Although the language of flowers persisted through many centuries, it carried a special potency in the 17th century, as flowers took on new scientific, economic, and artistic meanings. Between the distribution of botanic illustrations and the establishment of botanic and private gardens, flowers found homes in the everyday, the academic, and in the imagination. Still life painting emerged as an independent genre in northern Europe, and, of course, the infamous Tulip Mania exploded as a speculative bubble.
Ewer Inscribed with “al-'izz” (“Glory”) in Floriated Kufic on its Neck, first half 13th century. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. H.O. Havemeyer Collection, Gift of Horace Havemeyer, 1948.
Even though flowers are often associated with the genre of the still life, their histories and usage have been anything but still. As with any language, the way we read their meanings can be culturally and temporally dependent. Flowers were a global phenomenon, tied up in much longer, larger histories around aesthetics, science, and religion. Tulips, for one, were introduced to Europe through the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century, thus partially defining the northern European fascination with flowers.
“From the very beginning, plants and flowers have been present in Islamic art,” begins Corinne Kevorkian of Galerie Kevorkian in Paris. She points to two primary reasons for the importance of flowers in the Islamic world. The first, she explains, is that “Islamic art is not at all aniconic, meaning that there are depictions of human beings and animals, but you are not supposed to pretend to give life to beings or things that you depict.”
The second reason is more geographic. She continues, “Most of the Islamic lands are rather deserted, and very arid, dry regions. And so in this context, the garden is really even more important than in Western cultures. It is a symbol of paradise. So, plant design and flower design, along with calligraphy, have always been the most constant and prevalent Islamic decorative elements in the technical, creative, and artistic repertoire.”
In Ottoman Turkey and Safavid Iran, artists tended to depict tulips, hyacinths, peonies, roses, and some composite flowers that can be difficult to identify—each conveying specific meanings, even as they were stylized. “The Arabic letters for the word tulip are the same as Allah, so it is a symbol of God,” notes Kevorkian. Other flowers might relate to power, paradise, or mysticism, or provide a link between earthly and heavenly love. Because of their centrality, all artists were trained to depict flowers, regardless of their medium. “The floral theme is something that you find on every kind of media, meaning from architectural decoration to weaponry, textiles, ceramics, metalwork,” explains Kevorkian. In figurative painting, you often see emperors or noblemen holding a flower up to their face. Their depictions eventually became more naturalistic, inspired by trade with East Asia and the arrival of botanic texts from Europe.
Muhammad Zaman (attr.), Blue Iris, 1663–64. Brooklyn Museum, Hagop Kevorkian Fund and Special Middle Eastern Art Fund, 86.23.
In the European context, painters were also trained by medium and then, within painting, according to genre. In many cases, artists would work together, contributing their individual expertise to the larger composition. “Flower painters collaborated with other painters to do landscapes or religious scenes,” shares Rafael Valls of Rafael Valls Limited in London. He gives the example of Frans Francken, who often collaborated with flower painters like Jan Brueghel the Elder (and, later, his son, Jan Brueghel the Younger).
Before the emergence of the still life, flowers were usually in service to or subordinate to the larger subject of the image. And when the still life did emerge as an independent genre, it did not yet carry prestige. “Still life paintings were not frowned upon, but they were the sort of poor relations to historical pictures that actually goes through almost into the 19th century,” explains Valls.
That said, even as a lesser genre, European flower paintings held value—as symbolic objects, as objects of scientific interest, and as catalogs of market commodities. Still lifes often ruminated on vanitas, or, the ephemerality of both life and objects. Sam Segal and Klara Alen have written in their recent book, Dutch and Flemish Flower Pieces, that specific compositions of flowers might further the message. As they explain, “This symbolism of transience may be reinforced by certain specific details in the painting, such as fallen petals.” Or, placing tulips or irises at the top of the bouquet “may signify an orientation towards heaven or kingly glory.”
Jan Brueghel the Elder, Still Life with Flowers in a Glass, c. 1602. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. A.A. des Tombe Bequest, The Hague.
Combining certain flowers would have also implied specific metaphors. Segal and Alen use the example of the sunflower and the poppy. The sunflower, turned towards the sun, and the poppy, which can produce sleep-inducing opium, might “represent Day and Night, and at the metaphoric level, clear awareness as opposed to spiritual slumber or ignorance.” In other examples, a bouquet may feature flowers that would never be in season at the same time, creating a kind of decadent fantasy.
After the 17th century, flower language remained popular, especially during the Victorian period. In England and the United States, flowers expressed meanings that allowed Victorians to share emotions in a society that emphasized etiquette. In certain examples, the meaning could take on positive or negative connotations, depending on its context. “A larkspur is levity, lightness, fickleness, and haughtiness. A laurel is ambition, sex, success, and renown. It goes on and on,” says Valls.
Even as they pulled on different, culturally specific impulses, both Islamic and northern European artists arrived at similar observations and meanings. Flowers were embellishments, harbingers of love, signifiers of the heavenly. In this way, Carolus Crusius seems to have hit on something universal: flowers are indeed connected to their cultivators, in that they express meanings determined by the needs of their artists. If paintings are silent, the language of flowers provides a voice.
