STORY BEHIND THE ART OF DICK RAUH

Weird, Wild, & Wonderful

Second New York Botanical Garden Triennial Exhibition

2014 - 2016

Witch Hazel Capsules

Hamamelis intermedia "Arnold's Promise"

Witch hazel has a life cycle that puts it into the category of wild, if not weird, as far as I am concerned. This is a temperate, deciduous shrub that reaches into the extremes of moderate temperatures to produce its reproductive structures. It blossoms at a time when the majority of pollinators has either called it a day, or hasn’t awakened from a winter hiatus. When this happens, late fall or late winter, depends on the particular species, because this genus gives us a choice. Our New England native, Hamamelis virginiana sets its subtle-smelling yellow blooms out from late October to mid-November, in tune with the turning of its leaves and the ripening of last year’s fruit. Some flowers hang on long after the leaves have fallen and after the latest blooming asters have called it a season. On the other hand the exotic (for us, but happily at home in the Ozarks and mid-America), H. vernalis blooms in February and early March. The cultivated hybrid that I used as a model, H. intermedia “Arnold’s Promise”, is a late winter bloomer too, and while the floral display is quite different than our natives, the fruit is relatively unchanged. 

On the one hand this timing greatly reduces the competition for pollinators, on the other it forces the plant to depend on the few last insects alive, or the very first to emerge from hibernation, and these must be enough, because witch hazel thrives. To try to figure out why this plant’s blooming times are so unusual leads one back to the explanation for the genetic traits that set any species apart. If the mutation that caused it works and doesn’t in any way harm the species, it stays.

The fruit is a two-parted septicidal capsule, each locule containing a single seed. This aspect of the plant is what engaged me, with its textural contrasts, and the sturdy woodiness of the opened capsules. Another witch hazel feature that entitles it to a weird label as far as I’m concerned is that when the shiny black seeds are ripe, they explode out of the capsule, sometimes reaching distances of 30 feet. 

Another strange attribute of this plant is the myth associated with its ability to dowse. American legend has it that a forked branch of witch hazel, held horizontally by both branches of the ‘y’, will tilt downwards if it senses underground water. There doesn’t seem to be any scientific validity for this, but that has never discouraged anyone from attempting it or for the fiction to disappear. The astringent properties of the plant are another story, and leaves and twigs have a long history of medicinal use, although today the therapeutic elements of the plant are largely reproduced chemically.

Weird or wild, every facet of this delightful native is wonderful to me.

Next Story

Back to List

Read more about this artist's work: 16th Annual International