A library is a wealth of knowledge, where ideas are cultivated and harvested. Languages and words connect the past, present, and future in one space, which is paralleled by the plants incorporated into Suzy González’s most recent exhibition, Plantcestors, at San Antonio’s Central Library. The gallery space, tucked around the corner from the books, is filled with painted portraits on panels placed over resin filled with natural plant materials. Each plant is picked out by the sitter and paired with a quote from them explaining how it connects to their life and functions in various ways, such as being an aesthetic in their garden, a source of sustenance, or a symbol of their identity.
The series is unique due to its collaborative relationship between artist and sitter. González conceptualized the project but it required her to also build a rapport with the sitters. She had to make her sitters comfortable in the studio as she photographed them, using these references to paint their portraits in oil. Each sitter would identify plants important to them, challenging González because the shape, color, sizes, and textures of these plants were out of her control and she had to address how to compositionally arrange the plants and portraits.
The first work is Karla (2023), whose portrait incorporates deer corn, corn stalk with tassels, and corn husks. She gazes down reverently to the bowl of corn in her hands, with hundreds of individual seeds scattered through the resin background. González thoughtfully places corn husks in the resin to create a halo extending from Karla’s hair and in the right of the composition to break up the overwhelming pattern of seeds. Karla is a recontextualization of a maestà painting, where the Virgin Mary is replaced with a contemporary woman, and where Christ is embodied by maize (corn). Karla’s quote is a poem written in Spanish and Nahuatl. The choice of dual languages acknowledges the distinction between Spanish and indigenous cultures, conceptualizing her cultural relationship to maize. Additionally, her last stanza (written in Nahuatl) expresses gratitude to various Aztec gods and goddesses, underscoring its religious reading.
With Kimiya (2023), González beautifully incorporates the plants into the sitter’s attire. The flattened pattern reminds me of ukiyo-e prints. A series of bamboo stems run diagonally up from the left corner to the right, visible both behind Kimiya and as part of a pattern in her black tank top. Baby’s breath is placed both in her arm to become part of the design of Kimiya’s shawl and around her body to frame her. A Monstera leaf disrupts the soft recurring patterns of the baby’s breath and bamboo as it is tucked between Kimiya’s right shoulder and hair. Kimiya’s chooses these plants because of their adaptability and resilience, traits that she sees as a reminder to live her life by honoring those before her, despite enduring white supremacy and systematic oppression.
González’s portraits are filled with individuals who have impacted the San Antonio community through various lived experiences—cultural, religious/spiritual, gender, and sexual identities. Blending their portraits with plants offers viewers new opportunities to understand the individual and our community, as we are all humans thriving in this world with our own unique roots, stems, and leaves.
Plantcestors is on display at the San Antonio Central Library through March 29, 2025.
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