The Himalayan Monkshood, Aconitum ferox (Ranunculaceae), painted (probably) by artist Vishnupersaud, circa 1828, for John Royle from Saharanpur

Authored by veteran horticulturist Martyn Rix, the paintings in the book offer a rare insight into some of the “first Indian plants to be described scientifically”. “The paintings were designed for the correct identification of the plants, as a backup to dried specimens, which soon lose their colour and turn brown. Two or more copies of the most important paintings were made; one set was kept in Kolkata, and one set was sent to the East India Company’s library in London; many of these ended up in the library at Kew,” shares Rix in an email interview from England.  

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There couldn’t have been a better person to reacquaint India with its rich botanical history. Rix has travelled the length and breadth of the country, studying plants, first in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and later in Kashmir and more recently in Rajasthan. “So, I was delighted to have an opportunity to study these Indian paintings in more detail,” admits Rix, who is also editor of Curtis’s Botanical Paintings.

Turmeric or haldi, Curcuma longa (Zingiberaceae). Artist unknown, for William Roxburgh in Madras, circa 1970. Pic courtesy/Indian Botanical Art: An Illustrated History, Roli Books

Flower painting in India was first made famous during the early 17th century by the Mughal rulers, who patronised many an artist. “[But] the flowers in Mughal paintings were generally confined to decorative borders of paintings or calligraphy, or shown with figures in the setting of a flowery meadow, and were seldom the main subject,” says Rix. One exception, he says, was the famous tulip by Mansur, a court painter for the Emperors Akbar and Jehangir. “Jehangir in particular was a great observer and lover of flowers and there must have been more paintings of special flowers that Mansur painted for him, which are now lost. Mansur also produced copies of paintings from European flower books, which were in the library of the Mughal court. Because these were books of uncoloured engravings, the colouring in some of Mansur’s paintings is distinctly fanciful,” he admits.  

The Company’s interest in Indian plants, on the other hand, was mainly practical and economic, he adds. This also explains why some of the earlier paintings were primarily of useful plants, which might provide valuable crops; examples include dye plants such as Amaranth, and edible plants such as cashew nut, melon, and pomegranate.

It was only in the 18th and 19th centuries that “the first great flowering of Indian botanical paintings took place”. Several surgeons employed by the Company, worked with Indian artists, whose drawings were used for both “reference and scientific study”.  “There was also great interest in traditional Indian medicinal plants, some of which were also used as spices, such as turmeric. These could be used against the diseases and fevers to which the Europeans had little resistance. In addition to their fellow Europeans, the young surgeon-botanists had responsibility for the Indian employees of the Company, and one of the most energetic botanists, Robert Wight, even had charge of the stables of oxen, which were the main engines of transport at the time. As they came to know the local flora, the botanists studied the plants for their own sake and for their beauty, irrespective of whether they had any economic use,” says Rix.

Since the Indian artists were already “experts in copying”, they were able to reproduce the flattened plant specimens with perfect accuracy, he adds. “The botanists provided the large sheets of water-colour paper, but the artists made their own colours, and soon learnt to paint the flowers life-size instead of in miniature.”

Of the collection he has put together for the book, Rix says the flower paintings collected by John Ferguson Cathcart, an amateur botanist, who had his own botanic garden in the hills near Darjeeling, were most impressive. “In 1848 he was employing five artists to paint the flowers growing in his garden, many brought to him by local villagers. By all accounts they were generously paid, but sadly their names were not recorded.  They illustrated a wide range of beautiful plants, with great delicacy; some of these were published after Cathcart’s death by Joseph Hooker in one of the most beautiful of all flower books ever produced, Illustrations of Himalayan Plants (1855); His Highness Maharajadhiraj Bahadur Mahtab Chand Rai, King of Burdwan, Charles Darwin and Queen Victoria were among the 176 subscribers to the book.” 

In fact, many local artists went unrecognised during this period, because they didn’t sign their paintings, which was the usual practice at the time. There were, however, many notable names that flourished in the 18th century—Sheikh Zain al-Din, Bhawani Das, and Ram Das, to name a few. “They not only painted flowers, but also mammals, birds, fish and reptiles.” In fact, a painting of a fruit bat by Das will soon be for sale at Sotheby’s in London, with an estimate of £300,000 to £500,000. “So, the value of these great paintings is beginning to receive the recognition it deserves,” he says.  

In recent years, that there has been a “renaissance of botanical painting” of sorts with artists Hemlata Pradhan (Kalimpong), Jaggu Prasad (Rajasthan) and Nirupa Rao (Bengaluru) showing the way. “Hemlata’s work is special because it shows many of the plants in their wild situation; some of her paintings are full of ferns and mosses.  Her family has had a nursery in the foothills of the Himalayas for many years,” says Rix.   

Rao, on the other hand, has made a speciality of painting South Indian trees from the forests of the Western Ghats and highlighting those that are endangered in this hotspot of biodiversity. “Her style is exuberant, informal and three-dimensional, a great contrast to the rather flat and restrained paintings of the 18th and early 19th centuries.”