Vintage Swedish Herbarium - Solanum, circa 1961
You never really choose Solanum. You find it—half-hidden along the edge of the garden, growing where polite plants don’t dare. Leaves with just enough attitude, berries that look almost edible... almost.
It’s the kind of plant a botanist collects when they’re feeling a little reckless. A little romantic. The kind of thing that once brewed into potions or whispered about in the pages of old herbals with words like “nightshade” and “caution.”
Still, here it is—pressed flat, tamed by paper but not entirely. A reminder that nature always keeps one secret tucked away, just out of reach.
Charming. Mysterious. Slightly scandalous.
You never really choose Solanum. You find it—half-hidden along the edge of the garden, growing where polite plants don’t dare. Leaves with just enough attitude, berries that look almost edible... almost.
It’s the kind of plant a botanist collects when they’re feeling a little reckless. A little romantic. The kind of thing that once brewed into potions or whispered about in the pages of old herbals with words like “nightshade” and “caution.”
Still, here it is—pressed flat, tamed by paper but not entirely. A reminder that nature always keeps one secret tucked away, just out of reach.
Charming. Mysterious. Slightly scandalous.
You never really choose Solanum. You find it—half-hidden along the edge of the garden, growing where polite plants don’t dare. Leaves with just enough attitude, berries that look almost edible... almost.
It’s the kind of plant a botanist collects when they’re feeling a little reckless. A little romantic. The kind of thing that once brewed into potions or whispered about in the pages of old herbals with words like “nightshade” and “caution.”
Still, here it is—pressed flat, tamed by paper but not entirely. A reminder that nature always keeps one secret tucked away, just out of reach.
Charming. Mysterious. Slightly scandalous.
9.5” x 15.75”
Custom framing available upon request, please inquire.