A Q&A with artist Raul de Lara

What draws you to exploring plants in your work? What do they mean to you? Can you tell us about the plants you depict?

I come from a family that believes in luck, ghosts, and bingo. From a young age, they taught me that materials, objects, and spaces hold energy, and how this energy can be utilized to create beautiful things if one is patient enough.

Growing up in my parent’s woodshop in Mexico introduced me to the world of turning trees into things. A woodworking world where each tool has its own language, each piece of wood shows the passing of time on its skin, and where one is able to communicate through their hands. Mexico is a country where people believe. I grew up seeing people whittle tree branches into saints. The idea that at some point during the carving process, a saint would come live inside the stick overawed me. I am still asking myself how that happens. At what point does the ghost enter the wood? I see plants as our silent roommates who get to witness our lives. To me, house plants have unique personalities that often are invisible to the naked eye, unless you spend enough time with them. With each plant I carve, I strive to imbue into it a spark of life.

Can you tell us about your process, how do you create your plant sculptures? Do you use specific types of wood?

I always start with the idea, then I start making all my material choices. I usually work from a vision that I then find ways to break down into digestible steps. Since wood tends to be a very terminal material, I try to work in ways that let me discover and experiment as I walk toward that vision. For example, I try to limit my use of numerical measurements. I measure in shapes, not numbers. That gives me a flexibility that feels fresh. I will also say that I carefully select my boards by looking at the surface they hold. I love knots and imperfections. For some of my work, I start with green logs, and other things start as kiln-dried dimensional lumber.

There is something almost uncannily cartoon-like about seeing a houseplant depicted in block-colour carved wood. Does humour play a part in your work?

Of course! I find humour to be a very effective way to infiltrate and disarm difficult conversations. I also think that there is something inherently comical about our relationship to houseplants.

You moved to Texas from Mexico in childhood, how has that change of environment informed your work as an artist?

I was born in Culiacán, Sinaloa, in 1991. My father was working as an architect there during that year, but when I was one, we moved to Torreon, Coahuila, where I grew up. My childhood in Mexico was filled with moments surrounded by materials, tools, and wonder. I remember the first time I discovered glue—where two become one. I remember how my mother would always point out things for me to notice: the space where two materials meet, the texture of things, and seemingly distressed moments in materials, such as cracks or discoloration.

Both my maternal and paternal families are creatives—architects, casino decorators, engineers, and language professors. Mexico also has this ineffable quality of being able to perceive the hands that make a place and the pride of being able to keep things standing. Being born and raised in this type of setting gave me a deep appreciation for material dexterity, deep curiosity, and a weird sense of humour. We left our lives in México behind in August of 2004. We left because of family tragedies, a growing sense of insecurity in the city, and for hopes of a better, longer life elsewhere. My journey from México to the USA shaped my practice in ways that I am still slowly discovering today. Devoting my life to my artistic practice is an act of self-empowerment; woodworking cannot be taken away from me even if I am deported.

What does a typical day in the life of an artist look like for you?

I live above my studio so my commute is quite short. My day starts with an hour or stretching at home before walking down to the studio. A typical studio day begins at 9am with a coffee and digital work. Emails, photos, applications etc. I do that for an hour or two then get working with wood. Most of what I do is labour-intensive and taxing on my body so I tend to break up my production process from most intense to least intense. This keeps me from burning out throughout the week. I will most likely be wearing a respirator for most of the day. I try to have studio visits with other artists at least a few times a month.

I end my work day by cleaning any mess, and putting each tool back in its designated place. Having a clean, well-organized work place to walk into the next day is one of my most important rituals. Final step is to take my artist shower (compressed air) before walking back home.

What is your favourite or most memorable piece you’ve created?

It has to be the large sculpture I made for my first museum show: Como Las De Mi Tierra / Like The One’s Back Home – 2024. This piece was inspired by my first trip back home to México after 20 long years here in the USA. The two monstera leaves are replicas of two leaves I saw in Mexico City while walking around my uncle’s neighbourhood. This sculpture, and the rest of my solo show are currently on view at the SCAD Museum in Savannah Georgia until July 2025.

Do you have any favourite gardens to visit or places to immerse yourself in nature?

I love west Texas for its desert landscapes, upstate New York for its running water, and Maine for its rocky shoreline.

Lastly, since we’re the Garden Museum, could you share your personal relationship with plants, gardening and nature?

I spend much of my time looking closely at plants. I am that guy crawling on my knees at parks just to look closely at the grass. My home is full of plants, mostly large foliage ranging from 4ft to 10ft. My favourite plant, Ben, is a monstera who always has something to say.

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Follow Raul on Instagram: @rauldelaraa

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