A commodity, a marker of colonial power, a sign of wealth or status, a soft counterpoint to the germ-phobic modernist home. A commercial strategy to attract consumers, a metaphor of a broken relation with our surroundings, a symbol of a domesticated planet, or of a lost Eden. An emblem of domesticity and care for the household, a representation of a forgotten – or imagined – relation with the non-human world. An approximation of the garden one can’t afford to own, or would have no time to maintain.
Over the past five-thousand years, indoor plants have covered a spectrum of roles, and conveyed a contradicting variety of meanings. Within commercial or sacred spaces, from medicinal to decorative selections, cared for like important guests from a far away land, or left in a corner, dusty and in need of attention, hosted in temples and corporate lobbies, in extravagant conservatories and tiny flats, plants have been our flatmates.

