Lucie Lienerová, working under the pseudonym Lištica, is a recent graduate of the Painting Studio 3 at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Brno. Her paintings often intertwine references to art history with her personal experiences, such as competitive swimming, horseback riding, or intimate moments with loved ones. In the exhibition Plevelitel (Weed Spreader), we observe the dynamics of a relationship between two individuals, reflecting both the artist’s deep intuitive observation and her effort to rationally categorize and comprehend revealed symbols. The themes of transformation—both nurturing and violent—and ostracization, symbolized by weeds, emerge as central to the exhibition.
The artist’s interest in plants deemed harmful, parasitic, or aggressive appears at first glance to focus on their alluring and diverse morphology. However, the carefully painted weed atlas is more an imagined depiction than a realistic botanical representation. What becomes more significant is the understanding of their role, status, and character, which the artist metaphorically applies to people. The weed motif represents all those excluded from society—individuals who, despite being deemed useless, overly complicated, or problematic, can still be beneficial within their microcosms. While the paintings often stylize weeds into lush, blooming bouquets, the series does not provide an easy, clear-cut, or conventionally positive resolution to the precarious situation it depicts. A weed—like a person labeled as such—remains a weed, and this transformation comes at the cost of pain, even violence.
The central figure driving the narrative of this painting series is the Weed Spreader—an (anti-)gardener who comes into contact with a female figure named Iva. From the fragmented scenes in the paintings, it becomes clear that Iva has become one of his "victims." Her organs and body parts are buried in the soil, where, under the Plevelitel’s care, they sprout, grow, and change form. At this stage of the story, the (anti-)gardener is ruled by instinct and the libidinal nature of corporeality. His body—and the gaze directed at it—is both desiring and repulsive. This fine line between attraction and aversion concentrates irony, mischief, and perhaps even confusion.
A related aspect of this ambiguity is a form of "revenge" reversal of the male gaze, which the artist enacts from her perspective as an observer of the story. She subjects the Weed Spreader’s body to sharp scrutiny, emphasizing contrasts between the real male body and its idealized depictions in art history. In doing so, she overturns—or at least balances—the power dynamics at play. And through this reversal, Iva does not remain a passive victim but literally flourishes in her new (perhaps more reconciled, weed-like) form.
Contemporary literature offers several works that, to varying degrees, relate to the themes and motifs of Plevelitel, exploring experiences of violence and the (post-humanist) desire for transformation through different means.
Édouard Louis’ History of Violence portrays physical attraction and aggression linked to social exclusion, centering on the traumatic experience of sexual assault. Han Kang’s The Vegetarian describes an intense longing to transform into a tree, with floral and plant imagery triggering physical arousal that aligns with manipulative sexual encounters, leading to the protagonist’s gradual descent into madness. The most explicit transformation occurs in Jonáš Zbořil’s lyrical prose Flora, where an ambiguous entity—a plant, an animal, or a cable emitting signals—thrives at the expense of its caretaker, following the principle of energy conservation. And where else but in an abandoned zone, a former gardening colony? Gardens, plant life, and untamed nature have long served as fertile ground for storytelling and meaning-making. The exhibition follows shifts in meaning guided by the artist’s intuition over time, making it neither easy nor necessarily essential to pinpoint a fixed interpretation of its evolving symbolism.
The origins of the human bodies that the Weed Spreader plants remain unknown. Perhaps he is a murderer, perhaps a collector, or even a savior, yet he is undoubtedly also a caretaker. He raises a child that, while possessing human contours, likely has plant-like tissue. The paintings in this series do not aim to conclude or resolve the story definitively. Instead, they observe, immerse, invert, doubt, experiment, and above all, resist stagnation, rigidity, and schematic interpretations.
