The language of flowers

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Flowers of the Renaissance

Celia Fisher

Flowers have long been a favourite subject of artists; in different cultures they assume different meanings.  Flowers may appear in a Tudor portrait, a German altarpiece, a French manuscript or an Italian devotional painting, a woven tapestry, an enamel broach, an embroidered gown or a painted chest. Over time the meanings of particular flowers in these different contexts have been lost – but Celia Fisher helps retrieve them. 

Flowers proliferated in the Renaissance, both physically and symbolically. As travellers imported exotica from abroad, plantsmen, inspired by the new faith in science, bred novel variations.  So, too, did artists begin to observe plants with a dispassionate objectivity, recording details of colour and form with botanical accuracy.  But beyond their exquisite precision and sensual delight, these depictions carry layers of significance.  The iris linked classical texts with Christian precepts, allowing the artist to allude to Iris, the messenger goddess, while recalling the rainbow – with which she was associated – to suggest the Biblical flood. Depictions of the iris, the emblem of Florence, paid homage to the ruling Medici, while in France it evoked another Renaissance dynasty, the Dukes of Burgundy.  In artistic terms the flower’s upright foliage linked earth to heaven while its scrolled petals allowed for virtuoso trompe l’oeil effects.  Its colour, the colour of heaven, was considered almost mystical, not least because the pigment, known as ultramarine, came from ‘across the waters’ in the mountains of Afghanistan where it was mined as lapus lazuli. And that is only the iris! 

Fisher focuses on twenty different flowers, ranging from the poppy - associated with sleep because of the narcotic properties of its resin and seed, to thistles – linked to Christ’s thorn of crowns; from strawberries – whose name derives from the way they ‘strew’ out runners, to the peony whose root had been known as a painkiller since ancient times and is associated with women because it was used in childbirth (though Fisher doesn’t point out that it was also used to procure miscarriage in the early stages of pregnancy).  

Beginning with an anonymous 1420 Paradise Garden, and ending with Jan Brueghel’s 1620 Smell, with its enticing collection of new world exotics, Fisher traces the shifting role of flowers in Renaissance art. Moving from symbol to science, from background to foreground, flowers gradually shift from carrying the narrative of the story to become the subject in their own right.  Sumptuously illustrated, filled with fascinating details and esoteric information, this is a charming book for any garden, flower or art aficionado to dip into at leisure.

This book would be a delight for anyone interested in the meaning of flowers in Renaissance art.  The art historical bias is not signalled in the title so those looking for a more wide-ranging study of the cultivation and use of flowers in fifteenth and sixteenth century Europe might be disappointed. Although the book does touch on flowers in horticulture, cuisine, botany, medicine, cosmetics and perfume, Celia Fisher is an art historian and she concentrates on symbolism. 

This book is published by Frances Lincoln Publishing, 2011.  176pp; 146 colour illus. ISBN 978-0-7112-3068-2. In the USA this title is published by Getty Publications on 24 May.  ISBN978-1606060629