The breadth of her work varies, yet it is always relational. A compelling dimension of Cynthia’s practice lies in her sustained commitment to observation as a form of inquiry. Her work operates somewhere between plant-led practice, field study, and quiet scientific investigation.
Cynthia approaches observation as a disciplined attentiveness. Rather than seeking immediate results, the process unfolds slowly through repeated looking, recording, and testing. The plants themselves also participate in the process — whether through simple act of drying, wilting, changing form, or moving through seasonal states. This rhythm echoes the traditions of botanical study and natural history, where understanding emerges through long durations of noticing. In many aspects of her work, close observation functions as a tool for perceiving patterns that might otherwise remain invisible.
At the heart of her practice is an openness to experiment. Observation does not lead directly to finished artworks but instead generates a sequence of small trials: variations in mark, structure, scale, and rhythm. Through these experiments, whether it is their shadows, blooms or leaf shapes the artist explores how visual formations might mirror the growth patterns, structures, or transformations found in their plants systems. The work therefore sits in a fertile territory between artistic intuition and empirical curiosity. This sensibility is also beautifully expressed in her collaboration Pear-ed with Hayden Maylan.
Cynthia’s background in plant science and floristry subtly informs this approach. Her research interests have included botanical structures and genetic expression — areas that already require close attention to morphology and change over time. This scientific sensibility carries into her artistic work, where thinking with plants becomes a way of tracing relationships between form, growth, and relational conditions. Working both academically and through residencies, the field itself becomes a kind of laboratory where observation generates new visual hypotheses.
What is striking about her various works and experiments is their quiet restraint, and minimal interventions. The works do not attempt to illustrate plants directly. Instead, they focus on the underlying logics of growth — branching, repetition, tension, and gradual transformation. Lines accumulate in delicate layers, suggesting the way organic structures emerge through incremental adjustments rather than dramatic gestures.
Through her practice, Cynthia transforms form through a process of thinking through making. Each mark becomes both record and question. What happens when a line bends in response to another? How does a pattern shift when repeated over time? What structures appear when attention is sustained long enough? And her often asked question what do the plants want?
This process resonates strongly with contemporary practices that blur the categories of art and research. Rather than producing singular objects, the work foregrounds process as knowledge. Observation becomes a generative state — one in which the artist participates in the slow unfolding of material and biological phenomena.
In this sense, her work invites viewers to reconsider the act of looking. Observation is no longer passive. It becomes an active relation between body, material, and environment. Her works operate as quiet records of this relationship, capturing moments where perception, curiosity, and experimentation meet.
Ultimately, Cynthia’s practice is grounded in patience. It reminds us that attention itself can be a creative act — one capable of opening unexpected pathways between art, science, and the living world.