Story behind the art of Crystal Driedger

26th Annual International

American Society of Botancal Artists and Marin Art and Garden Center

Jimmy Red Corn

Zea mays var. indentata

A gardener I admire sent me a couple of cobs of Jimmy Red Corn to paint and when I opened the parcel, I was very excited to peek at those deep, rich coloured kernels tucked away in their husks. I immediately wondered how I was going to peel back those husks without damaging them, as they had quite delicately dried in place. I spent several hours gently cradling them with damp washcloths while working diligently and carefully to expose the corn, peeling back the layers until I got the exact composition I wanted. What a joy it was to discover each kernel – many were dented, while some were rounded and full - and those beautiful semi-transparent husks could be fanned out almost like an octopus’s arms – beckoning, curving, twisting.

One of the best parts about painting a dried cob of corn is that it’s the most patient subject. Once it’s posed and you have figured out how to clamp it into place so that it won’t fall over, you can work on it over many months, and it won’t fade or get tired and start slouching on you. This comes in handy because even the first stage of drawing the corn takes a very long time to get right. When it came to using my colored pencils, I was interested in capturing the light on each individual kernel but also the delicate colour shifts and gradients in the husks and the interplay of colour within the lighting.

Jimmy Red Corn, which is an heirloom variety, has long been teetering on the brink of extinction but has recently been on the path to revival due to demand from the chef community for its unique flavor. It has been gaining distinction as an ingredient in a flavorful whisky and is also milled to produce grits/cornmeal. It is difficult to grow this corn where I live in Northern Canada, as our growing season is so short, and corn of this nature must be started indoors quite early, so I am very grateful to fellow gardeners who can mail subjects to me. 

Black Turtle Beans

Phaseolus vulgaris

I’m fascinated by heirloom vegetables and have several varieties in my small backyard garden. I plant them every year specifically because I desire to admire and draw them. I find joy and a sense of magic in getting to know my garden plants’ personalities and habits, watching as they burst from the soil, grow, bloom, and then mature.

There are only a handful of different bean varieties for sale in grocery stores (including black turtle beans), but there are thousands of heirlooms grown around the world, many of them with remarkable patterns and colors. Believed to have originated in the Americas, black turtle beans have been a staple in Southern and Northern American diets for over 7,000 years. 

The challenging part of capturing black turtle beans is that when they are ready to harvest, the plant is barely clinging to life – the stems slowly become a dusty, faded green and the leaves are in various stages of life, ranging from leaves that are still managing with green bits here and there, to pale yellow ones, to crumpled brown, dry brittle things that have given up. But those cream-coloured bean pods… well, I saw an opportunity there. I was eager to capture the reflected light and shadows I could see playing together, creating such elegant soft purples, blues, pale oranges, and rich sepia freckles… the beans were glowing. I was enamored and luckily, I was able to work from those beans over the course of many weeks, long after the green on their stems had completely faded away. When I composted those little stems later, I felt a pang of regret having to let go of a subject that I’d spent so many hours admiring.

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Read more about this artist’s work: 25th Annual