Botanical Journeys

ASC: Do you have a special connection with any particular plants?

DT: I love Brugmansias because they’re both scary and beautiful—I like that mix of danger and beauty. I’m also fascinated by the stories around plants. For instance, in some Indigenous cultures in Colombia, Brugmansias are planted at the corners of houses to protect the space. Later, when I began creating textiles from my paintings, I designed a piece featuring Brugmansias. Every plant has its own beauty, and I love researching both the plant itself and what’s been written about it—it often takes me into archives.

ASC: You collaborated with Dennis McKenna, an ethnopharmacologist and director of the McKenna Academy of Natural Philosophy, and also with Jonathan Ott, a chemist, ethnobotanist, and writer. As a botanical artist who has worked with such notable authors, what can you share about your collaborations and your process when collaborating?

DT: One of the most important collaborations was with the Ethnopharmacologic Search for Psychoactive Drugs (ESPD), first published by the U.S. government in 1967. I read that book. It included materials my husband was studying, such as Anadenanthera peregrina, and I used it as a reference for my early paintings. Years later, Dennis McKenna revived the ESPD conferences, now held every five years. For the 50th anniversary in 2017, Synergetic Press and Dennis asked me to use my images for the cover, which their designer adapted. They’ve since asked again for the upcoming ESPD 55.

Jonathan Ott asked me to create the frontispieces for a series of eleven books he was writing and republishing. I completed four before he passed on snuff, ayahuasca, cacao, and coca—and we stayed in close contact throughout. I’d send him the finished paintings along with my notes explaining the symbols and references.

ASC: I see your botanical prints and your complex oil paintings, and each one seems to be its own world. How does that process come together?

DT: I usually start with a list; my idea and everything I think should go into the painting, often twenty or more items. Then I explore the history of the plants, how they’ve been used, how they are used today, and sometimes add personal experiences. Once I’ve nailed down the content, I create four or five small sketches to determine the composition. I like it when most paintings are interiors, but through the room, you see the exterior, the outside world. There are artifacts, drawings, personal touches, and windows where plants grow. Sometimes the plants appear inside too, as wallpaper or indoor greenery.

ASC: You create a dialogue between domestic and public spaces, as well as between indoors and outdoors. One of my favorite pieces is Chrysalis. Your work feels political to me; it addresses the nature of these sacred plants, often demonized and criminalized.

DT: And it’s funny because people look at those paintings and say, “Oh, it’s just a domestic scene.” People just see it as, “Oh, pretty flowers.”

But Chrysalis is one of my favorites. It aligns well with the Transcendence and Transformation initiative at the CSWR because it illustrates how ideas emerge, how we evolve, and how things transform. The dress in the painting is covered with butterflies from my Miami garden; the chrysalises are attached. The inspiration came from a dream in which I looked down at my white skirt, and the chrysalises transformed into butterflies. I noted it in my small dream journal, which I keep for especially striking dreams. I also heard a news report about how underground libraries were being created in war-torn areas, and I felt a connection to the idea of Chrysalis and metamorphosis. Knowledge works similarly; after reading a book, we’re not the same person. That idea of transformation through books and libraries resonated with me. In the painting, there’s a small puddle, not originally a puddle, but a hole leading to an underground library. I imagined the butterflies flying through it into the city, maybe transforming it.

ASC: In many presentations at psychedelic conferences, I’ve noticed that scholars include your work on slides and visual aids. As I navigate academia, I am concerned with ethics at every step of the research process, including dissemination. What are your thoughts when you hear that someone is using your work without your consent?

DT: Well, first of all, I’m honored that people find my work useful. I wish they’d give me credit. It’s not a big deal if they’re used in a presentation, but if someone uses them on a website more permanently, I’d really like proper credit or a link to my site. For anything that’s up long-term, that acknowledgment matters to me.

ASC: Your current project is on female plant explorers, which relates to your visit to Harvard. How did the project start, and what are you exploring now?

DT: My first introduction to female plant explorers was through a painting of Maria Sabina, the renowned mushroom healer. Her ceremonies were full of poetic imagery—she’d say things like, “I’m the shooting star woman, the woman who looks into the inside of things”—and that really drew me into this world. From there, I started studying other female plant explorers, mostly historical figures.

For example, Maria Sibylla Merian, a German-born artist in 1700s Amsterdam, traveled with her daughter to Suriname to paint plants and study insects. That was fascinating to me, and I went on to make other small-format oil paintings, including one of Marianne North and even one of myself.

My latest project is on Ynez Mexia, who lived until 1938. Her story is incredible: after two marriages and a deep depression, she moved to San Francisco, joined the Sierra Club, and surrounded herself with people who shared her interests in nature and art. At the age of 50, she returned to school at UC Berkeley to study botany, becoming an avid plant collector and explorer who traveled extensively from Alaska to Patagonia, including the Amazon.

I’ve been able to see her plant press, pens, and notebooks at the California Academy of Sciences, and here at Harvard, they have her plant collections, some of which are digitized, while others are not. I’m arranging to see those as well. Her life is so rich that I’ve decided to move from small oil paintings to a larger-scale piece, 46 by 26 inches, similar to my Chrysalis painting. While I am here at Harvard, I will also continue working on some illustrations of plants, Nicotiana rustica, and more mushrooms. I also taught a “Visionary Garden” plant painting workshop.