Eyes and flowers have always shared a strange intimacy. One belongs to the human face, the other to the earth — yet both open, bloom, and respond to light. In original artwork, the fusion of eyes and petals creates something unsettling and beautiful: a vision of nature that sees us back. It’s not just ornament or surreal play; it’s a meditation on awareness, perception, and emotional vulnerability.
When I began painting eyes within florals, I wasn’t thinking in symbolic terms at first. It felt intuitive — like two languages merging into one. The flower’s softness carried emotional tenderness, while the eye introduced alertness, a quiet tension. Over time, the motif evolved into a recurring dialogue in my work: the meeting point of vision and sensitivity, of growth and consciousness.
The Eye as a Symbol of Awareness
The eye is one of the oldest symbols in art history. From ancient Egyptian amulets to Byzantine icons and Renaissance allegories, it has always represented knowledge, vigilance, and the divine gaze. In modern and outsider art, the eye often takes on more psychological meanings — it becomes the self that watches itself, or the unseen presence that connects observer and observed.
When placed inside a flower, this ancient symbol changes tone. It becomes less about power and more about empathy. The gaze is no longer external or judgmental — it feels internal, emotional. The flower softens it, turning the eye into something alive but fragile, a part of nature rather than an intruder in it.
In my paintings, these eyes are not always symmetrical or idealized. They may look tired, curious, or reflective, echoing the many moods of perception. They are witnesses of feeling rather than instruments of control.
Florals as Emotional Language
Flowers are among the most symbolically charged elements in art. In Western traditions, they’ve been linked to desire, mortality, and spirituality — from the vanitas paintings of the Dutch Golden Age to the erotic blossoms of Georgia O’Keeffe. In Slavic and pagan folklore, florals carry yet another dimension: they are portals between worlds, growing from soil yet reaching toward the invisible.
I often draw from this folkloric sensibility. My botanicals aren’t delicate garden flowers; they are wild, ritualistic, sometimes unnervingly alive. Their petals twist like speech, their stems pulse like veins. When an eye emerges from within, it doesn’t feel decorative — it feels inevitable. Nature, after all, is not passive. It observes, reacts, adapts.
Painting these hybrid forms becomes a way to express the permeability between human emotion and organic growth. A flower that watches embodies both — beauty and consciousness intertwined.
The Surreal Tradition of Seeing Nature
There is a long artistic lineage of giving consciousness to nature. Surrealists like Max Ernst and Leonora Carrington turned forests, plants, and animals into psychological landscapes — metaphors for inner transformation. The idea that nature can watch, feel, or think is not fantasy; it’s an acknowledgment of our connection to it.
In outsider and symbolic art, this idea becomes even more personal. The “botanical eye” is not only a surreal image — it’s a confession. It says: I see the world, and the world sees me back. It invites reciprocity, a kind of visual empathy between artist, viewer, and subject.
When I paint these forms, I imagine the moment just before awakening — the second a flower might realize it’s alive. The eye, embedded within, represents that consciousness emerging from stillness. The result is both tender and eerie, like watching thought bloom in silence.
Emotional Symbolism and Color
Color plays a crucial role in how these motifs communicate emotion. Deep purples and emerald greens evoke mystery and introspection; pale pinks and glowing whites suggest sensitivity and tenderness; neon contrasts give a sense of unease, a tension between natural and synthetic. The metallic tones — silver, chrome, gold — act like light itself: reflecting, distorting, observing.
When combined, these palettes create the atmosphere of sentient nature — beauty that looks back. Each hue becomes emotional language, suggesting both attraction and unease. It’s not the cheerful world of botanical illustration; it’s an emotional ecosystem, pulsing with quiet consciousness.
The Watching Petal as Metaphor
The fusion of eyes and florals speaks to something deeply human: the longing to be seen, and the fear of exposure. The watching petal becomes a metaphor for emotional visibility — the feeling of being both open and observed. It’s an image of vulnerability that doesn’t hide behind abstraction.
In interiors, artworks that use this motif can shift the energy of a space. A painting filled with botanical eyes doesn’t just decorate a wall; it introduces presence. It changes how a room feels — as if something alive were listening, not intruding but witnessing.
This is what I love about this theme: it makes emotion physical. The watching flower is both decoration and consciousness. It reminds us that observation is not passive — it’s a form of participation.
Seeing and Being Seen
Ultimately, “botanical eyes” are not about fantasy, but about perception itself. They ask: what does it mean to look? What does it mean to be seen — by nature, by others, by oneself?
In these paintings, I find that line between external beauty and internal awareness. The gaze is gentle but insistent, like a question that never fully closes. And that’s what makes the image powerful: it doesn’t end with vision, it begins with it.
To live with art like this — surreal, symbolic, quietly sentient — is to invite another kind of dialogue. The petals watch, and we watch back. Between the two, something happens: attention becomes intimacy, and beauty turns into consciousness.
