2023 Constance Scanlon - American Society of Botanical Artists

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Connie Scanlon

Diane Bouchier Artist Award for Excellence in Botanical Art

Past Prime: A Decisive Moment

Story by SCOTT STAPLETON

Strictly speaking, the term “decisive moment” belongs to the great French photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson, at least as far as the history of art is concerned. Cartier-Bresson himself, however, understood perfectly well that more was at stake in the concept than snapping compelling pictures of subjects “on the sly.” In his 1952 book with the same name, he said, quoting a compatriot, “There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.” True enough. But not everyone can see it. This year’s winner of the Diane Bouchier Award for Excellence in Botanical Art can. Not only does Connie Scanlon’s art share with Cartier-Bresson a concern about composition and tonal values, her art draws its sense of urgency from the same kinds of narrative possibilities present in his. Her decisive moment, however, the one she is most often drawn to, is more narrowly focused and precariously perched. It is past prime.

Like many, Connie came late to botanical art, indeed, to art in general. An elective here, a noncredit course there, it wasn’t until she took her first class at the Minnesota School of Botanical Art that she learned pencils came in different degrees of hardness. When she graduated from college, nursing is what she understood her life’s work would be about, the critical care, life and death kind practiced in ICUs. Botanical art would not rear its botanical head until many years later.

It was Maria Sibylla Merian who introduced her. Around 2000, when her “masterpieces”—her three children—were all away, Connie became a docent at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. She thought that learning about art history firsthand would be something she and her young charges would enjoy, and Merian did not disappoint. Her extraordinary curiosity about nature and ability to put it down on paper with clarity and the power to evoke awe, well, she wanted to do that, too. And wouldn’t you know? There in the museum was Marilyn Garber demonstrating how to make botanical works of art. A decisive moment, to be sure. How do I sign up? she said.

Coming into contact with distinguished botanical art and artists was akin, she has said, to the amazement one feels in a candy store. From the outset, Denise Walser-Kolar was an inspiration, a teacher/mentor, and a friend. In 2006, Kate Nessler taught an influential painting on vellum class, thereby making Connie a convert to the medium. But it was Fiona Strickland who not only inspired her but came to her rescue with a timely affirmation.

She had been trying out her wings. She was a regular contributor to the Great River Chapter of Botanical Art’s Inspired by Nature exhibitions. Ditto, ASBA’s small works invitationals. But in 2012 she made the leap to hyper (botanical) space with her suite of Preludes and Postludes on a Stem paintings submitted to the Royal Horticultural Society for the following year’s exhibition. She received an award for her efforts, a Grenfell Silver-Gilt Medal, but the experience was frustrating and demoralizing, even so. She did not feel she could make the art she wanted to make. Enter Fiona Strickland. She should not be discouraged, she emailed; she was better than she knew. Enter also Julia Trickey, an English botanical artist whose large leaf paintings were on display. That was the key. Connie did not have to paint life-size blueberries. They could be enlarged to reveal all their glory.

She returned home in time to paint her groundbreaking Blueberries x 8 for ASBA’s 2014 Annual International—for which she won an award—and with that, to be firmly launched. Well, perhaps not firmly launched. Like many, Connie is plagued by doubts about whether she’s up to her next challenge. But therein lies her strength, for it’s in those moments leading up to her first stroke of the brush that she feels positively… electric? Her fingers literally tingle, she says, when in pursuit of her quarry. (Her family says she’s impossible to live with.) But once she settles down and begins to paint, she’s home.

Her blueberries continue to grow, as do her gooseberries, raspberries, and other plants she’s bagged. It’s the thread that runs through many of them, however, that is the most striking thing. They’re past prime. They’re exquisitely perched between their full ripe glory and their letting go of that glory. Were they in an ICU unit, she would do her best to nurse them back to health. Here, she can only testify to their magnificence. It’s enough. Indeed, it’s an inspiring ambition, worthy of a Diane Bouchier Award for Excellence in Botanical Art.