University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Materials: an intersection of art and science

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Materials: an intersection of art and science

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Content MATERIALS:
AN INTERSECTION OF ART AND SCIENCE
by
Franchesca Diaz Flores
A Thesis Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC ROSKI SCHOOL OF ART AND DESIGN
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
MASTER OF FINE ARTS
(FINE ARTS)
May 2022
Copyright 2022 Franchesca Diaz Flores
ii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Figures .............................................................................................................................................................. iii
Abstract ........................................................................................................................................................................ iv
Introduction .................................................................................................................................................................. 1
Section I: Interrelated Connections ............................................................................................................................ 2
Section II: Hidden Language .................................................................................................................................... 11
Section III: Organic Matter ...................................................................................................................................... 14
Section IV: Concluding Reflections .......................................................................................................................... 25
Bibliography ............................................................................................................................................................... 28

iii
LIST OF FIGURES

1 Mycelium Stool…………………………………………………………………........22
2 It All Starts Here…………….………………………………………………………...23
3 Untitled (Forever in my Heart)……………………………………………………....24

iv
Abstract

In a world that produces at an alarming rate, it’s important to take a moment to reflect
and appreciate the resources we have and consider how we can begin to conserve them by
finding alternative resources and processes. This thesis explores the idea of a sustainable artistic
practice through the use of mycelium, the tree of the mushroom, as a means to explore
alternative, organic materials. This artistic process is influenced through human-disturbed
forests, indigenous, holistic practices, and an ecological system known as mycorrhizal fungi, that
help bridge the gap between art and science.
1
Introduction

Going to graduate school in a global pandemic made me recognize that there was need of
severe environmental change. I felt responsible as a scholar and demanded accountability from
myself with my time at USC as a grad student. The world was on lock down and as a nation we
were required to stay in our homes to keep ourselves and others safe. This mandate to stay home
shifted my practice as an artist since I did not have access to printmaking facilities in which I
was trained as a graphic designer. Being trained in design influenced my direction, process,
practice, and mission as an artist.
When Covid-19 struck the globe, ruling over our lives, the world was reminded of the
capability of viruses. Because of this attention, during the stay at home mandate, I was drawn to
the micro world of fungus and was intrigued on investigating how viruses and fungi quickly
adapt to their ever-changing environment.
In this written thesis I first will provide an analysis of three books that influenced my
artistic practice with organic, living material in section I. Following with expansion of my
personal experience and when I was introduced to nurturing for a garden in section II. Ending in
section III where I will connect insights from these readings in conjunction with the work I
developed over the past two years as a graduate student.

2
Section I: Interrelated Connections

Echoing the ways art and design find their intersection and coexist, Suzanne Simard
identifies the importance of the symbiotic association between fungus and plants known as
mycorrhizal fungi.
1
This intricate, interwoven, underground network consisting of thousands
strands of hyphae creates a mass known as mycelium.
The fascination of the universe and its relationship with human existence and meaning is
mind boggling. In order to try understand our existence in this world we may begin to look at
what our purpose in life may be. Whether one will believe it is their destiny or a calling, this
search for life purpose will always find us and reassure us that our meant for us. Robin
Kimmerer mentions in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, that she was captivated by yellow and
purple flowers as a child because of their contrast and she notes that she knew there was
reasoning and meaning beyond their appearance, that there must be scientific reasons that she
felt so drawn and connected to them.
Her fascination with the contrast between the goldenrods and asters leads Kimmerer to
develop her interest in ecology as soon as she entered college. She states, “[e]arly experience can
attune the brain to certain stimuli, so that they are process with greater speed and certainty, so
that they can be used again and again, so that we can remember.”
2
This encounter is almost like
love at first sight. When asked what her interests were in ecology, Kimmerer as a young college
student confidently replied to her professor that she, “[w]anted to know why goldenrods and
asters looked so beautiful next to one another.” Her professor coldly answered that if she was
interested in beauty, she should study art. Although her response wasn’t as compelling to her

1
Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest (Toronto: Penguin Canada,
2021), 59-63.
2
Robin W. Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants,
(Canada: Milkweed Editions, 2013), 40.
3
professor as it felt to Kimmerer, she knew that something as simple as the color contrast between
flowers was valid enough. She carried this feeling with her throughout her adolescence, through
college, and into her career where she further become a professor for environmental studies
opening the perspective to young college students about the power of animacy through learning
and observation.
In relation to Kimmerer’s narrative of learning about nature and plants, Suzanne Simard
utilized the idea of animacy throughout her research as well. Simard began her research by
conducting studies on why saplings were not flourishing in deforested land and why saplings in
abundant forests were. She discovered in older growth forests an underground network that
moves throughout the forest, identifying its roots and linking the beginning of this network to a
central tree, which she calls one of the greatest teachers of all. She found that this tree has been
observing its environment acting as the mother tree of all the other young trees and saplings,
sending biochemical signals through the mycorrhizal fungi, in order to have the younger saplings
learn to grow, adapt, and flourish in their environment. For example, if there was a bird that
made a hole and went through the fine root branches, the root would be able to rekindle itself
through biochemical signals that are sent through the fungal network, known as mycelium,
signaling the mother tree that the root is broken. The mycelium from the mother tree then
prepares the raw root to create its organic pattern and be in union with the rest of the network.
3

Simard’s book makes the point that, when we’re able to look at other living, breathing
organisms such as plants, microorganisms, and animals as animate and not solely as speechless,
mindless subjects, we can reveal a new awareness and understanding of the world around us. For
scientific researchers, the idea of looking at organisms and microorganisms through a holistic

3
Simard, 221.
4
lens, connecting mind-body-spirit, was not something readily accepted. For example, Simard’s
superiors in this primarily male dominated field were arguable, but she knew this model of
communication was worth researching. During her research, spending immense time in the
forests, Simard began to reflect on human and non-human relationships, by viewing and
empathizing with plants and organisms as an extension of herself to understand them and her
research better.
Simard’s personal and educational journey involved her going back to the idea of
discovering her life purpose, her calling. Knowing that she found truth in the simplest form of
ecology, she nonetheless kept that insight with her throughout her studies, allowing every step to
reassure her that she was exactly where she needed to be. Simard expresses how much she feels
connected to these living beings through her admiration and compassion by expressing, “I can’t
tell if my blood is in the trees or if the trees are in my blood.”
4

When we’re able to allow our mind, body, and soul be present in our studies there
becomes a leveled and shared awareness between these three, where one does not overrule
another. When we give ourselves the opportunity to listen to all three parts of our body there is a
moment of silence in the process that reveals a new awareness. The language and the big
question that Robin Kimmerer asks in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, is, “Does the planet need
humans to survive?” Most would instantly think, “No, the planet will flourish regardless of our
presence!” Although to Kimmerer, this is far from true and she narrates to her reader the
significance and rich knowledge of an indigenous legend from natives that resided in North
Carolina the model of Three Sisters.

4
Simard, 25.
5
Kimmerer describes the three sisters as an ideal model for physically and emotionally
cultivating a garden of strength and trust. She begins the story introducing the eldest sister that
stands by her sisters, dressed in yellow with long luscious hair. The second eldest dressed in
green, just a few inches shorter has tight curls to her shoulder. Following the youngest, the third,
with her free spirit, radiates in bright orange next to her sisters. The names of the three sisters are
corn, beans, and squash. Kimmerer argues that the three sisters story offers a metaphor for where
science and indigenous knowledge intersect. Beginning with the corn, as a plant it provides the
basis and structure of traditional ecological knowledge and acts as a guide for the curious bean to
share its spiritual knowledge with the corn. Collectively the corn and beans create a haven,
where the squash rests at their feet encompassing a co-productive relationship of science and
indigenous knowledge.
5

As poetic and beautiful this story was in order to view and understand the language of
these crops, such tales were not appreciated and understood by all. These indigenous gardens
were viewed by the European settlers as a savage way of farming, implying that the natives did
not know how to farm. The settlers envisioned gardens as uniform lines of the same species, not
as a diverse arrangement of abundant crops co-existing with one another. What they did not
know was that natives have been mothering the earth all along. They have been laying their
seeds amongst the ground, protecting the bounty, and most importantly recognizing their
individual potential and imaging how they can all live in harmony.
6

So, does the planet need humans to survive?, the leading question in Braiding Sweetgrass
which Kimmerer is asking her environmental science class, can be answered: indeed, yes, the
planet does need humans to survive by considering the co-productive exchange and relationship

5
Kimmerer, 128.
6
Kimmerer, 125.
6
that is happening between human and plants. Kimmerer begins to explain that it’s the hands of a
human that lay the seed to rest in its soil bed, nourishing the seed when parched, and protecting
them from all predators by setting salt for pests, figures for birds, and fences for animals. By the
help and tending of the human, the seeds will sprout, and we will smile knowing that we created
life. By caring for these crops, in return they fill us emotionally with appreciation and physically
with nutrition, building a relationship that is built with respect and love. This is the co-productive
relationship between human and nature that Kimmerer is aiming to illuminate.
There is a connection in a garden between plants and humans. One wouldn’t neglect
something that shows them and provides them with love and abundance. As Kimmerer notes:
“Knowing that you love the earth changes you…when you feel that the earth loves you in return,
that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.”
7
She argues
that this is a bond that is profound.
Kimmerer states that she knows that she is not alone when she is in the garden. She
knows that, in addition to the bounty they provide, plants carry a wisdom of their own that is
silent but significant to their development. Kimmerer’s arguments thus parallel the way in which
Simard identifies the intelligence of the mother tree, and describes how significant its presence is
for the other saplings to prosper. Both researchers are aware that traditional science could not
rule over the understanding of one’s intuition. One may also phrase intuition as that gut feeling
we feel when we are doing something right or wrong. Kimmerer believes that the true gift of
plants is their capability of animating the inanimate. Although she argues that it is up to the
viewer to take a seat back, silence themselves, and watch for their voice.

7
Kimmerer, 125.
7
When we give ourselves the opportunity to see nature as an extension of ourselves, and
not only as objects and resources for life, we begin to draw connections and relationships
between human and plant survival and development. Looking at plants and nature beyond their
abundance and past Western and Christian lenses, we are able to open ourselves to alternative
ways of thinking and practices.
These connections are the subject of Anna Tsing’s book, The Mushroom at the End of the
World. Here, Tsing takes a unique approach of observing the world around us through her
research of the matsutake mushroom and the hunt and harvesting for them in the Pacific
Northwest. Tsing draws back to the Industrial Revolution where as a nation we only looked
forward to evolving tools, industries, and materials, and not considering what was left behind
and effected in the process of it all. She expresses that, in contemporary society, nature is mostly
viewed as merely a backdrop, an endlessly available resource for human production and benefit.
The bounty of nature’s resources is exploited for the harvesting of lumber and produce; nature is
only desired until people could not capitalize on its resources anymore. Thus, abandoning the
lands and leaving parts and remnants of what was once exploited materials and resources. are left
behind.
Tsing, however, focuses on what grows in these remnants. Thus, when autumn arrives
after the land is cleared due to the harvest of lumber that was collected by the town for shelter
and community gatherings, the matsutake mushroom first begins to appear. Tsing mentions that
Tricholoma matsutake similarly emerged in Japan through human disturbance.
8
The
decomposing process of human contact and the deforestation of red pine creates an environment
that allows for the matsutake mushroom to flourish. This cycle of creating a new life out of

8
Anna Tsing, Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press), 2015, 6.
8
destruction provides a metaphor out of decay and destruction that Tsing uses to inspire her
research and process.
So, what is this method that Tsing is trying to provide for us out of the matsutake
mushroom? The answer isn’t direct since our world is in constant flux and as humans, we can
only control so much. And so that leaves us with what we have left after what is taken from
nature, not entirely by conquering it but working with it, and adapting to our given situation.
Tsing asks a striking question that would make one reconsider their position about the era we are
living in, in terms of our evolution and progression as a species. “…What kinds of human
disturbances can we live with? … How much chance do we have for passing a habitable
environment to our multispecies descendants?”
9

Acknowledging this complex moment, Tsing uses a new term that geologists use to
define the moment in time we are in as Anthropocene, the period in which human disruption
dominates natural forces and resources.
10
This disruption is not only a product of human life; it is
a result of modern-day capitalism that influences the exploitation of landscapes and ecologies.
Tsing takes into the account what we are left with and does not see the loses of these terrains as a
total defeat, but as places of precarious rebirth. She asks the question: What does one have to
lose if its already lost?: “We can’t rely on the status quo; everything is in flux, including our
ability to survive.”
11

To adapt to the abandoned ruins that are left after their resources are squeezed dry
requires a breath of curiosity, optimism, and, according to Tsing, an acceptance of precarity.
When we allow ourselves to be put in vulnerable, unpredictable circumstances we acclimate and

9
Tsing, 6.
10
Tsing, 19.
11
Tsing, 20.
9
thrive as a species, which thus shifts our perspective of reasoning and understanding of our
experiences. Tsing uses the matsutake mushroom as a metaphor for the way in which we can
shift our traditional ways of researching and conceptualizing through decay and disruption for
resilient life. The matsutake mushroom emerges in the soil after the combination of human
contact and forest exploitation for development of civilization and capitalistic gain. Once forests
of trees are taken and the forest drained of its previous resources, what is left does not seem of
value since it was never intended in the human plan, or a part of the goal (in this case, of the
lumber industry). Regardless of our personal goals as humans towards an abundant life, nature
has its own idea of a goal and that is to adapt, participate, and be here with us regardless of our
intention as a civilization. As Tsing notes of the mushrooms: “We neglect them because they are
not a part of progress. These livelihoods make worlds too—and they show us how to look around
rather than ahead.”
12

Tsing points out that in our society, that is generally based on European values, the logic
of encompassing alternative ways of thinking sounds unreliable and feels frightening, but that is
because we have been accustomed to ideas and methods about progression and evolution as our
only means of efficiency and advancement as a civilization. Thinking about the progression of a
task and its main objective—in this case extracting “value” from forests—locks us into the idea
that this is our set method, because we have already found what we were looking for and took
only what was needed. Although there might have been moments throughout the process that
bring uncertainties when the outcomes were unrelated to the goal, but were still capable of
happening. She notes: “Instead, agonistic about where we are going, we might look for what has
been ignored because it never fit the timeline of progress.”
13

12
Tsing, 22.
13
Tsing, 21.
10
Being able to draw back to look at plants and nature as an extension of our lives allows
for a unique, hidden language to be revealed that is refreshing in the way in which it is asking us
to obtain what the trees and plants have learned from being on Earth. For nature has been in front
of us the entire time. For eons, all it was asking for was for us to silence ourselves for a moment
and become animated through our new, more nature-centered perspective.
Western classrooms teach us that student etiquette is about behaving properly, obtaining
knowledge as pre-given, not about taking initiative by being on front stage ready to participate
actively. However, reading Suzanne Simard’s, Robin Kimmerer’s, and Anna Tsing’s books
about biodiversity, indigenous storytelling, and co-productive relationships has allowed me to be
aware of the non-verbal teachers—such as the mother tree or nature in general—that encompass
our world.
Altogether, these three women are able to reveal in their individual books the importance
of diversity in our thinking, practice, and daily life. In addition to the fact that throughout their
findings and discoveries that were clearly unique, they stayed true to their beliefs and hypothesis
regardless working in a field that was male-dominated. Most importantly when were able to
allow ourselves to think unconventionally we begin to find the connections between ideas and
other living things. And once were able to identify the relationships between what may seem like
opposing forces and beings, we reveal their interrelated connections. It is time as artists,
designers, and scholars to embrace the diversity of all subjects and practices by acknowledging
new approaches of learning and methods in an ever-changing world.
11
Section II: Hidden Language

Through my study of Simard’s Finding the Mother Tree, Kimmerer’s Braiding
Sweetgrass, and Tsing’s The Mushroom at the End of the World, I have been able to re-envision
my own method of an artistic practice. Inspired by these books, I have invited three subjects to
my research and practice: art, design, and science to understand and learn from an intricate,
underground network known as mycelium.
Utilizing Kimmerer’s theory of animating our resources and taking traditional science
and indigenous knowledge to observe and learn, I was able to create a language built around
mycelium that did not sound so detached from its own organic nature. Kimmerer states, “science
can be a language of distance which reduces a being to its working parts it is a language of
objects.”
14
Refusing this distance, I began by identifying what allowed mycelium to flourish,
finding that they only desired organic materials such as sugar, straw, wood, and coffee grounds.
Their honest response seems to be to return to the roots of organic material—simply and literally.
The way in which mycelium feeds off natural materials must empower the network, knowing
that their process is co-productive in material exchange.
My process is as follows: after collecting their organic nourishment it’s time to sterilize
my items, workspace, and molds to protect the mycelium from any potential living particles.
When Kimmerer speaks about the co-productive relationship that humans have with plants, I
think about this when acquiring and assembling my substrates. For mycelium to be cultivated,
the helping hand of a human is required to create these environments for them. Our only task is
laying the seeds to grow, nourishing them with food and a sustaining a healthy environment by
protecting them from anything that may threaten their development.

14
Kimmerer, 48.
12
Working with an organic, living organism, I did not have complete control over the
process. It required me to be observant, patient, and aware of how the mycelium responds to its
environments. In some of my tests I found that they preferred incubating in plastic molds over
glass, and wanted sterilized straw, rather than straw directly from the farm. These observations
and corrections were small gestures, but they made a significant difference in the result by
creating adequate humidity and condensation in the plastic containers in association with the
temperature of the room, and sustaining a healthy substrate by sterilizing all materials.
When gardening, we don’t try to sell the seeds on the soil and location. Rather the seed
will tell us what it needs through its development. Although this ask is not a clear verbal sign, it
is a visual one that requires one to observe its process and development. Sometimes the result
can be seen from through the flower, leaves, and produce it provides to us, and other times an
unsuccessful result can be seen in the result of the plant dying or not growing at all. Regardless
of the outcome, there is an unwritten language that can be seen visually where nature is seen as
the teacher.
In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer shares knowledge from a native scholar named Greg
Cajete, who has written about indigenous ways of knowing and understandings. Cajete states,
“we understand a thing only when we understand it with all found aspects of our being: mind,
body, emotion, and spirit.”
15
This method of reasoning resonated with me and my practice
because I would argue that we cannot fully understand other living organisms until we see them
as an extension of ourselves. When we cast these scientific names upon plants and shove them
into science textbooks and tests, they become detached from their potential to be connected with
us and its origin of home. This separation of plants from their living environment then makes it

15
Kimmerer, 46-47.
13
difficult to connect with these living organisms and plants when we are led to believe they are
mere objects, and not valuable teachers that have been a part of human evolution.
Defining and creating a language for myself and my practice was essential to
understanding the life and development of mycelium. I used words such as organic material to
explain its nutrients, the words protect, healthy, and clean to explain its supposedly strict living
conditions, and patience when describing its time for growth and development. This built
vocabulary (organic, protect, healthy, strict, patience) helps condition my larger understanding of
mycelium and my artistic practice by being aware of my position in caring for these organisms
and my own artistic practice. It allows me to realize that I am a nurturer of my work, and
regardless of the material breathing or not, nonetheless will respond to its given environment and
situation.
As artists we find life in what we choose to animate, and by using mycelium as a material
it allowed me to illuminate its development and growth through a poetic co-productive
experience. By using Kimmerer’s theory of animating our world, Simmard’s theory of utilizing a
diverse research practice between traditional science and indigenous ways of thinking, I was able
to incorporate Cajete’s four aspects—mind, body, emotion, and spirit—into my practice and
research to create a visual product made of mycelium, in correlation to the language I use around
mycelium that better helps me understand mycelium and what it could potentially do.
14
Section III: Organic Matter

I spent my summers as a child at my grandmother’s house, my father’s childhood home.
I’d arrive at her house around six in the morning, sleepy but awake. Together we fixed breakfast
for ourselves, and as soon as we finished it was off to the garden to beat the summer heat. We
would enter the garden through her patio grabbing our gloves, knee pads, boots, and sun hats. To
the right of the patio was my grandma’s gazebo, the place where she could relax, entertain, and
soak in the love of her garden. Right above the gazebo was a gigantic magnolia tree that
provided us with shade and shared its beautiful magnolias with us twice a year. Surrounding that
were a variety of lush plants including rose bushes, canna lilies, elephant ears, birds of paradise,
calla lilies, hibiscuses, vines, forget-me-nots, alyssums, and many more that all flourished in
harmony in this one garden. Now that I look back at her diverse, abundant garden it reminded me
of the story of The Three Sisters that Kimmerer shared in her book and how regardless of how
different they were, they found a way to live in unity amongst one another.
My grandmother loved her plants, and they loved her back by presenting themselves to
her with their company. When I was a child, I used to think that the neighbor’s plants knew
about her love because there was an orange and lemon tree from the neighbor’s house that would
grow over her fence and provide her with tangy citruses regardless of how many times the
neighbors tried to stop her from picking their tree.
Each gardening day was different, but we tended to the garden based on what they were
asking from us. We listened to the plants with our eyes and our hands. Some days they were
thirsty, other days they needed a trim, and we would remove the dried leaves for them to flourish
again. On the days that did not require much maintenance my grandmother and I would go on
morning walks to say hello to the neighbor’s and appreciate their front yards, admiring and
15
seeing their love for plants company too. It never dawned on me until I began this research that
my grandmother’s love for gardening wasn’t a mere hobby. It was a labor of love and
compassion that reciprocated its appreciation for our time and care through our engagement with
the garden.
When Kimmerer was asked how one could restore a relationship between the land and its
people, she responded that one should simply plant a garden. She argues, a “garden is a nursery
for nurturing connection…once you develop a relationship with a little patch of earth, it becomes
a seed itself.”
16
That seed becomes fuel and a part of our experience, assuring us that we have the
potential to nurture and tend for another living creature. This way of thinking does not only
apply to gardening, but to the way in which we choose to carry ourselves and beliefs, reflecting
our values through the way in which we interact with other living beings. My grandmother’s
garden embedded in me a universal language of observation through empathy at a young age.
Through my research and artistic practice, I have been able to consider complexities of human
experience that come with tending to a garden, ensuring that I am now more aware of my own
creative contribution to this planet.
My grandmother’s diverse, unconventional garden of trees, plants, and flowers revealed a
substantial way of life. Like the way in which Kimmerer and Simard believed in utilizing science
along with indigenous knowledge to expand their practice and knowledge through, regardless of
what was deemed as credible or not within Western scientific traditions.
When I worked in a strict design environment, I was trained to be intentional, observant,
and seek for solutions to design problems, but at the same time I knew that artists were working
to seek understanding and potential solutions to their environments but through a different

16
Kimmerer, 126.
16
process. Through my research of interrelated systems have been able to apply this to my artist
practice by utilizing design methods by being aware of myself, in addition to asking questions
about the world around me.
There has been discussion that art and design are subjects with completely different
practices that consist of different outcomes. Which is true, to some degree, but does that mean
that these two disciplinaries cannot find their own intersection amongst it all?
Anna Tsing mentions the idea of being agnostic about how human civilization chooses to
decide between what is credibly accepted or not because, “…we might look for what has been
ignored because it never fit the timeline of progress.”
17
In a way, I believe that this points exactly
to the process that artists utilize when understanding and moving throughout the world around
them. Rather than trying to ask a question and conquer a problem, artists will have asked a
question, and answer the question through twenty different forms.
It took me some time to be able to understand this concept of a diverse process and
working with organic living materials assisted in this shift. I was led by my design training to
believe that there could be only one best solution for a situation. I realized this when working
with mycelium as a material and medium to reimagine what furniture can look like. I was
inspired by the project, Hy-Fi, by The Living, which was installed at MOMA PS1 museum in
New York in 2014.
18
A selected group of architects were invited to MOMA PS1 to transform an
outside contemporary art museum in Queens, New York into a summer installation. The group
devises a structure based on parametric design, the idea that all elements of design are adaptable

17
Tsing, 21.
18
The Living, Hy-Fi, Young Architect Program, MoMa PSI, 2014, Video, 2:47,
https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/3664
17
and interchangeable, that is built with natural materials of corn stalk and mycelium to create bio-
degradable bricks.
I began with my research and process by familiarizing myself with the production of
furniture and mycelium and discovered that the life span of furniture to be used by humans was
about twenty years,
19
and that the life span of mycelium depending on it the conditions in which
it is living was also about twenty years.
20
Given these facts, I made the connection between my
experience with gardening, my background in design, and the flexibility within art to produce
furniture out of mycelium. It reassured me knowing that I could create a form, with a function
from compostable materials, and knowing that when it reached its time, it will naturally return
back into its organic nature. Almost like working in a garden, a hybrid practice of art and design
is a give and take process that emphasizes the importance of co-productive relationships.
After multiple trails of failures, and some successes I found finally found the formula that
worked for me to cultivate mycelium in my own studio. Despite the mycelium requiring supreme
sterile conditions, they adapted and grew regardless of the small gushes of air I make when
preparing them to incubate in their reusable molds.
Their growth span took anywhere from two weeks to a month to grow into a thick, heavy
mass of mycelium. I further installed these unique, blocks of mycelium to legs from chairs that I
took off from preowned and found chairs throughout the streets of Los Angeles. Although the
stool I made was not a traditional shape, nor was it guided by traditional modes of design
production, I was able to use the method of design by attempting to solve a problem, and through
the process of making art by asking myself what a chair could look like in a world with no

19
Esteher Fleming, “How long does it take for wood furniture to decompose?,” 2021.
https://www.sidmartinbio.org/how-long-does-it-take-for-wood-furniture-to-decompose/
20
Critical Concrete, “Building with Mushrooms,” 2018. https://criticalconcrete.com/building-with-mushrooms/
18
manufacturing buildings or productions. It didn’t need to be beautiful, or a perfectly made chair
but it proved that there is potential in adopting the presence and wisdom of nature alongside
humans, design strategies, and the artistic process. The chair also proved that a chair can be
designed and function in multiple different ways.
I have been able to construct three different styles of chairs, one that stands on three legs,
similar to the height of a stool, with the seat that took on the shape of a triangle, that resembled a
saddle. The second and third chair were molded according to a hole in the dirt, which resulted in
a circular top, and flat bottom. I had no desire for these molds to be perfect, considering their
material was unique, which further enhanced the idea of what a chair can look and function like
in a world without manufacturing.
The designer in me strived for a clean cut, uniform collection of chairs, but I knew this
goal was not possible considering that I was being considerate of my carbon footprint and using
organic, living material. This became a key recognition for me: although I could not entirely
control the outcome, there was still something creatively interesting that was possible throughout
this process. This is the point that Tsing was making when she describes the process not being
linear at all given moments, and embracing all that may happen to meet the result.
21

Once I was able to grasp the understanding of the mycelium and how it grew, I was able
to take it outside of its mold and apply it to other objects such as butcher paper and cotton made
clothing. Mycelium was starting to become a metaphor to me about rebirth and resilience
because it made me realize that regardless of its conditions it will find a way to adapt and
survive.

21
Tsing, 21.
19
On the one hand, I was dealing with a metaphor of beauty, and, on the other hand, I was
shedding light on an unknown organism that flourishes underground in secrecy. The unknown
can be unsettling sometimes, but there’s a part of us that will always have to look just to make
sure we’re not missing out. Being struck by a viral global pandemic in March of 2019, reminded
us of the other worlds that live among and even inside us: the world of micro-organisms. Naked
to the human eye, these organisms unapologetically move throughout our air, our bodies, and
living spaces. When we begin to think of their presence, we become more aware of what could
potentially host them and we may try to control their invasion and reproduction. They may
mutate or move out temporarily, but will always find a way to accommodate to their spaces.
I felt the urge to use mycelium as a material because I aimed to make art that had a low
carbon footprint and would decompose at a sooner rate than other materials such as plastic. Some
consider the permanence of their work for the sake of art history or the archive throughout their
process and practice. In contrast, I am not entirely concerned with how long I can sustain my
work but rather how my work can and will deteriorate. It can be said that my work is ephemeral,
referencing the fact that everything, and all moments, are ever fleeting. Everything in this life is
ephemeral.
Mycelium was a means for my artistic practice in order to help me discover
alternative ways to use organic materials. During the time my mycelium was growing, I could
not help but return back to printmaking and research how I can turn my initial form of art making
into a sustainable practice as well. I began by speaking with my printmaking professor, Xaiver
Fumat, and was shared the process of creating anthotypes.
Anthotypes are a photographic process where a positive image becomes bleached from
the sun onto a surface after being coated or dyed with an organic substance such as spinach,
20
beets, or anything with high pigment saturation to expose an image. Exposing time can take
anywhere from two hours to a month to expose, depending on the pigment used. Once exposing
time is complete, there is a beautiful, ghost like image that is left from the positive image.
I felt drawn to this process of printmaking considering that there was no use of chemicals
and required organic materials such as spinach and cotton printmaking paper. I began
considering what images I would use to print using this process considering the images are
washed out and felt drawn to using archival family images to represent memory that is lost and
only known in pieces. I was also influenced by my research from The Mother Tree to track
images of my family to physically show myself my generational roots that I felt was important
and humbling to my artistic practice.
My interest in working with a biodegradable material stemmed from my growing concern
for the environment, and awareness of the damage created by the over harvesting of resources
and mass production of commodities that are constantly being demanded by humans to provide
and meet our demands. While we are evolving as a civilization through and on natures resources,
we don’t even realize that we aren’t even doing anything to preserve or sustain how we acquire
these resources.
The designer in me wanted to solve a problem in an artistic form, but I knew that my
outcome wouldn’t be an exact solution. So, I began to ask myself how we can imagine resources
in a world that has little to no life to give or sustain. Inspired by Tsing’s arguments about life
surging in devastated landscapes, rather than feeling like I needed to conquer and answer the
problem, I participated in the question by growing and constructing unconventional chairs to
pave a way for the way in which we can imagine products in a perished environment, and or
world.
21
By revolving my artistic practice around topics of ephemera, biodegradable material, and
identifying the co-productive relationship between humans and our natural environment, I can
invite other artists, designers, scientists, botanists, and even engineers to take a moment to
reconsider their teaching and learning practices, and to think beyond efficiency and the final
result and rather consider where we see similar ideas and methods. When we take a moment to
reiterate how we absorb and gain information, we can understand methods and processes in a
new light, and maybe even discover a system and practice that was overlooked all a long because
of what was deemed as traditional ways of learning and theorizing.
22

Figure 1. Mycelium Stool / Top: blue oyster spores, straw (sterilized), coffee grounds, sugar, rye
seeds, and plywood / Base: Wooden legs, two-sided screws, covered in plaster with straw, coffee
grounds, and hair / 20” x 25” / 2021 / Image by Franchesca Flores.

23

Figure 2. It All Starts Here / Spinach Anthotype on cotton paper / 26” x39 ½” / 2022 / Image by
Franchesca Flores.

24

Figure 3. Untitled (Forever in my Heart)/ Spinach Anthotype on cotton paper / 40” x56” / 2022 /
Image by Franchesca Flores.
25
Section IV: Concluding Reflections

The global pandemic of Covid-19 changed the way in which we all functioned as a
society. As a civilization we adapted to being able to work and learn from home, proving that we
can still be productive no matter where we are in the world. Although the pandemic led some of
our lives to halt, and maybe even an entire shift in direction, we were able to reveal alternative
methods and potentials to how we can function in a world where travel and human interaction is
limited.
I turned my attention to the micro anatomy of the virus world, and how it was not easy to
control and see and compared it to the fungal world. The nature of both organisms was to be
easily adaptable to their environments, making them full of unknowns and uncertainty, worthy of
concern, especially in the case of viruses, which mutate inside the human body and our
environments.
I was inspired by Kimmerer and Simard, who advocated in their books for a dual learning
environment linking traditional science and indigenous knowledge and techniques, as well as
incorporating the understanding of living habits and behavior of plants. Since I did not have
proper access to printmaking faculties in my first year of graduate school, this prompted me to
utilize my methods and knowledge in design to reveal something to myself that I truly cared
about. I was aware that I may not be able to solve and conquer a problem, but I was able to find a
situation and topic that I cared about and made me excited by looking at a problem in the world.
That problem I identified as the mass production of commodities and over harvesting of goods to
fulfill human demand, and not realizing that while we are taking all these natural resources, we
are not providing a place to sustain them. This problem itself overwhelmed me emotionally and
physically, but I did not let that intimidate me or hinder me from developing my artistic process.
26
I knew that I cared about sustaining natural recourses and environments, but it was not my goal
to build a fence and a garden to show my contribution. Instead of asking how we can get back to
what was lost, I asked myself how we can work with what we are left with while still being
considerate of what we are doing.
I participated in this question by growing and constructing a collection of unique chairs
made from mycelium, an intricate, interwoven, underground network consisting of thousands
strands of hyphae. The question I asked myself was what a chair could look like in a world with
no manufacturing productions and little to no resources. It took multiple attempts of trial and
error to answer this question, but at each attempt it revealed a new understanding to me that
allowed me to create a language around mycelium and the co-productive relationship of
cultivating it.
Through the research presented in the three books—Finding the Mother Tree, Braiding
Sweetgrass, and The Mushroom at the End of the World—I have been able to re-envision my
own method of an artistic practice. By inviting three subjects to my research and artistic
practice—art, design, and science— I have been able to better understand and learn from the
habits of a living, underground network known as mycelium.
These three books each revealed to me the importance of a dual and diverse learning
environment because in such ways we are stronger when we find a way to coexist rather than
solidifying knowledge as existing in a hierarchy, to be expressed by only one subject, whether it
be traditional or not. When we allow ourselves to make interrelated connections, we reveal
hidden languages and messages amongst these two world and subjects. Even more when we give
ourselves the opportunity to illuminate our learning process by giving respect and animating
27
organic resources, they will present themselves in a visual tongue, performed and curated
specifically for you.

28
Bibliography

Critical Concrete. “Building with Mushrooms.” Critical Concrete. 2018.
https://criticalconcrete.com/building-with-mushrooms/

Fleming, Esteher. “How long does it take for wood furniture to decompose?” SidmartionBio.
2021.
https://www.sidmartinbio.org/how-long-does-it-take-for-wood-furniture-to-decompose/

Kimmerer, Robin W. Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the
Teaching of Plants. Canada: Milkweed Editions, 2013.

Simard, Suzanne. Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest.
Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2021.

Tsing, Anna. Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist
Ruins. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015.

The Living. Hy-Fi. Young Architect Program. MoMa PSI. 2014. Video. 2:47.
https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/3664

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Asset Metadata

Creator Flores, Franchesca Diaz (author)

Core Title Materials: an intersection of art and science

School Roski School of Art and Design

Degree Master of Fine Arts

Degree Program Fine Arts

Degree Conferral Date 2022-05

Publication Date 04/16/2022

Defense Date 04/16/2022

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag alternative resources,anthotype,Art,design,indigenous practices,interrelationships,Materials,mushrooms,mycelium,mycorrhizal fungi,OAI-PMH Harvest,organic,printmaking,Science,sustainable

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Jones, Amelia (committee chair), Lin, Jenny (committee member), Mueller, Thomas (committee member)

Creator Email franches@usc.edu,franchescaflores0@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC110964845

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