Anyone who thinks flower paintings are stuffy should spend a few minutes with Tulip (Helen Josephine) by Rory McEwen. Standing in front of this exquisite watercolour, my senses come alive: I can taste strawberries and cream, and feel the velvety petals between my finger pads. McEwen had a lifelong love affair with plants, which he painted from life, making changes with a pen knife or scalpel, wearing surgeon’s spectacles for the fine details. Crisply defined and gleaming in the light, his tulip is beautifully mesmerising.
It’s one of several flower paintings hanging on white and leaf-green walls at Kettle’s Yard. Inspired by the fresh cut flowers and paintings of flowers in the neighbouring house, Handpicked brings together more than 40 artists from the beginning of the 20th century to the present who share a floral passion. It’s a delightful exhibition, perfectly timed, and as I pass between splashy chrysanthemums and dancing fritillaries I’m considering what to pick up from the florist on my way home. But don’t be fooled into thinking that flower paintings are all decor and delight. Folded in with those soft-to-touch petals are intense human emotions and stark reminders of the fragility of life.
