Story behind the art of Kélanie Chapdelaine Lavoie

 

29th Annual International

American Society of Botanical Artists and the Society of Illustrators

 

Contracting Umbel

Daucus carota

 

Daucus carota, Emblem of a trade: A prolific umbel on the verge of cracking

 

I live in Frontenac, Quebec, Canada, near the Maine border on a beautiful piece of land. My house is surrounded by gardens, which are in turn embraced by forest. A small river runs through, and wildlife comes and goes. For years, this was the heart of my seed and flower production business.

 

Among all the crops I grew, the carrot (Daucus carota) stands out as emblematic. In the seed-saving world, producing carrot seed requires immense dedication; in fact, most seed producers choose not to grow their own. The challenges are unique. Cultivated carrots easily cross-pollinate with the wild carrots that thrive effortlessly all around us in Quebec. To keep a variety true-to-type, the roots must be harvested the first autumn, carefully selected for color, size, shape, health, and flavor (we taste a small piece of the root). They are then stored for the winter, preferably in cedar dust, and replanted early the following spring.

 

To prevent cross-pollination from wild neighbors, we must plant the roots inside netting shelters. But because pollination must still happen, we rely on nature's most efficient and determined carrot pollinators: flies. To ensure a large enough population inside the shelter before closing it, we use a rather surprising strategy—placing rotting raw meat inside to attract flies.

 

Once pollinated, the umbel contracts, dries, and beautifully adapts its colors to the autumn landscape as the embryos mature into seeds. The seeds must then be threshed by rubbing the plants, filtered to remove pests if they weren’t grown under a net, and then rubbed even more to de-beard them and remove their tiny bristles. Finally, they are tested for germination. Depending on the weather during the season and many other factors, the germination rate is often too low for commercial distribution. While the germination rate generally improves during the first post-harvest year as the embryo benefits from post-maturation, it is not always enough. Producing carrots might be different in drier countries - as Quebec’s weather can be slightly too humid for edible carrot crops - yet wild carrots seem to love it just that way.

 

Earlier in my career, I focused heavily on food crops and participated in research testing and evaluating the best-adapted carrots for Canadian agriculture. Later, when my business shifted toward flower production, growing ornamental varieties of Daucus carota, such as ‘Dara’, became a pure delight. These varieties often have a single-year life cycle and display a higher fertility rate.

Today, I no longer produce seeds commercially. Yet, there the plants are in my garden, generously and graciously reseeding themselves from year to year. After years of strictly managing their destiny, it is a beautiful full-circle moment to simply watch them live, free and wild.

 

This painting resonates deeply with me because it embodies the aesthetic of my background and my perception of strength and beauty in nature. However, I must admit that I took no joy in painting it. This artwork marks a very specific stage in my journey as a botanical illustrator—a time when I was accomplishing many of my professional objectives but simultaneously suffering from pressure-related anxiety. Seeking recognition on an international scale is ambitious, but it can easily become clouded by the overwhelming weight of competition. For me, this painting represents a rupture point, the moment right before I had to take a step back, breathe, and refocus on my own artistic journey.

 

In hindsight, there was something deeply poetic about painting this plant: still fully vibrant, yet standing on the very verge of drying and cracking. I am incredibly grateful to share my work with so many fellow passionate artists and plant lovers. 

 

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