STORY BEHIND THE ART OF Crystal Driedger

25th Annual International

American Society of Botanical Artists and Wave Hill

Provider Beans

Phaseolus vulgaris

Last summer I bought several raised planter boxes to expand my small backyard food garden. There was no question that I was going to fill each of these precious boxes with unique and interesting vegetables and fruits. I had developed a serious interest in heirloom vegetables after attending my first botanical art workshop on heirloom gourds with Margaret Best in 2019. 

I filled the new planters with heirloom varieties of corn, carrots, squash, potatoes, cucumbers, and many different bean specimens, hoping to be inspired. To my surprise, the beans I planted were particularly fascinating. Beans aren't quite what I expected to be drawn to, but there I was, admiring their sturdy pale blooms.

Then little pods emerged from the finished flowers. At first tiny and frail, they soon swelled into beautiful green, crisp, and delicious pods. As the growing season continued, the pods transformed into little tan-colored treasures--when I cracked them open, each variety revealed its seeds. It was not unlike unwrapping a gift (provider beans are a brilliant, rich maroon color, by the way). I sketched several of the varieties I planted and made copious notes, so I could continue the series throughout the winter months and have the pieces in different stages of completion in the studio.

My backyard garden, it turns out, is the most wonderful place to sit and draw. Even though I've been a fine artist for almost twenty years, discovering botanical art was what pushed me to draw outdoors. The most peaceful times in my life are when I lay out my blanket and draw in the garden.

During blissful hours in the garden, I observed my beans and got the composition I desired by moving around to look at the beans from every angle until I found "the most interesting bean bush.” There's something special, too, about seeing real sunlight on your subject, watching the leaves shift in the breeze and change at different times of day. You get to know your subject intimately then. I'm new to botanical art, but already I’ve found that once I’ve brought a specimen into my studio, I feel rushed to capture the beauty of my subject as it starts to fade and wilt, and this pressure changes how I approach it.

The provider bean is well suited for colder climates, and because I am from Northern Alberta, Canada, where our growing season is short, this is a trait I particularly value. I harvested several beans to bring to my studio to capture them in my chosen medium of colored pencil before they faded.

I was grateful that the provider bean is prolific, so there were many well-formed pods to choose from. I treated every bean as an individual and drew each of them from life, trying to capture the quirkiness and personality of each. The specimens had been eaten long before my painting started (they're delightful when pan-fried in a little butter, with sliced toasted almonds, in case you're wondering), but with the preparatory work I had done, I was able to finish the painting over the course of a month during our long cold winter.

My garden is once again filled with new heirloom specimens, and I eagerly await the day when I can bring out my blanket and drawing boards to sketch the day away in bliss, surrounded by tomatoes, lettuce, gourds, squash, beets, and, of course, beans.

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