2024 Mariko Ikeda - American Society of Botanical Artists

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Mariko Ikeda

Diane Bouchier Artist Award for Excellence in Botanical Art

Story by SCOTT STAPLETON

When she was 11 years old, Mariko Ikeda entered an artwork in a national botanical art competition. She had been making carefully observed botanical drawings for four years, and now she was ready to send one to the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo. It administered the competition for the sake of fostering a greater love and understanding of nature among the nation’s elementary, junior, and high school students, not to mention advancing Japan’s centuries-long tradition of kachō-ga, bird and flower painting.

She entered again the next year, this time under the watchful eye of her biology teacher. On a rainy autumn Sunday, he came to the school to provide her with her next project, a small dogwood branch that he cut while standing on a ladder. What’s more, to make sure she got it right, he had her do the drawing in his laboratory next to their classroom. And when she finished, he sent her home with additional words of encouragement and guidance.

She began, in short, under the most favorable of circumstances—brimming with talent and determination in a setting that expected much and gave much. And soon enough, she won her first first-prize. And then another. Now, she had “only” to venture forth. But where? And with whom? Upon the advice of her mentor, the late Mr. Kazunori Kurokawa (and with his introduction), she asked the one person who should know, Dr. Shirley Sherwood. She had come to Tokyo for the opening of Contemporary Botanical Artists: the Shirley Sherwood Collection, the first exhibition of its kind in Japan. Mariko had just turned 17.

She was advised to study with the Australian botanical artist, Jenny Phillips, who impressed upon her the need to work from live specimens and to present her subjects with precision and flair. At the Institute of Art and Design at the University of Tsukuba, she studied traditional Japanese painting and the altogether fearful prospect of creating her own art. Back then, that meant working late into the night on large, wall-sized canvases requiring much storage space and much creativity. It was exhausting. But all along, botanical art remained her constant companion. At the University, she became a teaching assistant; an hour away, at Gakushuin University, she was invited to teach botanical art. Gakushuin is where she attended junior high and high school, and where yet another person who believed in her, her high school biology teacher, lobbied successfully on her behalf for a scholarship to study botanical art abroad—the first time the school had ever done that. She is still teaching botanical art at Gakushuin.

Research was another interest: on the possibility of animal expression in Japanese-style painting, on the clothing depicted on plaques once displayed at a Confucian temple in Tokyo, on the properties of Gofun, a white pigment made from finely ground oyster, clam, or scallop shells—her PhD thesis. The latter had an immediate impact: she used the pigment in her traditional Japanese painting. In 2020, her thorough-going paper on the use of vellum in botanical illustration did likewise—it’s the medium she consistently uses—and it had an impact on the work of many other botanical artists in Japan for whom information about vellum is limited.

Cyrtosia septentrionalis, mycoheterotrophic orchid,

Pandanus boninensis Warburg, screw pine,

To her earlier blessings she could now add her well-honed skills, a wide-open horizon she eagerly sought, and the courage to risk everything, come what may. The stage was set for her spectacular series of pandanus paintings at the 2017 Royal Horticultural Society show.

Everyone took notice. Their stunning presence—the fruit seemed to project into the viewers’ space; the lengths she went to to collect them—three separate trips to remote faraway places; the many tiny brushes she wore out making them; and their striking presentation thanks to the advice she got from respected artists and friends, well, it seems anticlimactic to say she won a Gold Medal plus the Best Botanical Art Exhibit award.

Inevitable? Not at all. She is fond of saying that success is not the painting, it’s everything that went into making it. That includes Mariko herself. Asked if there was anything she would like to add to this piece, she said, “I would be grateful if you could mention Helen.” Helen Allen, the beloved principal of the Chelsea School of Botanical Art, didn’t teach art per se—This is how you make it. She taught students how to claim their vision of the art they wanted to make. And she taught Mariko how to teach her own students.

This is how you venture forth.

Scott Stapleton is a regular contributor to The Botanical Artist. He lives in Minneapolis with his art, his books, and lately, bowls and bowls of hot soup.

Save or Sacrifice: A Forest’s Fate

While recovery from the 2011 Japan Earthquake has progressed over the past 15 years, its effects continue to emerge in unexpected areas. A plan is underway to establish a disposal site for soil contaminated by the Fukushima nuclear accident. However, the chosen site’s location near well-known spring water and an ancient forest has sparked strong opposition from nearby residents.

Closely following developments in the area, I have spent five years studying Cyrtosia septentrionalis there. This orchid that no longer photosynthesizes and depends on fungi for nutrition and birds for seed dispersal—a rare trait among orchids—symbolizes a profound symbiosis. This is a testament to the intricate ecological harmony shaped over centuries.

The struggle to protect the forest highlights the balance between environmental preservation and human demand. It is a controversial issue that I do not carelessly mention. So far, determined efforts by supporters bring hope for this forest, outweighing the government’s current stance.— Mariko Ikeda