garden

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Though hardy outdoors to Zone 9, snake
plants are familiar houseplants in much of
the country, able to take low-light conditions
and little water in stride. Below: The
narrow verticality of many sansevierias
makes them good choices for troughshaped
pots, here 'Futura Simplex' in a Venetian
Rectangle from Gainey Ceramics. Right:
One of the hottest sansevierias on the
market these days is S. cylindrica. Container
from Target. Opposite: Recalling a time in
midcentury, when sansevierias were the "it"
plant of modernism, a Spindel planter from
Greenform holds 'Silver Laurentii' encircled
by 'Jade Dwarf Marginated', flanked by
bright-orange chairs from West Elm.
familiar to him since childhood, Llenza's design inspiration
came from iconic Brazilian landscape designer Roberto Burle
Marx, whose style translated perfectly to Llenza's native Puerto
Rico. As Llenza says: "Marx showed what could be done with
all these tropical plants, like sansevierias emerging from black
Mexican beach pebbles. He really put them on the map."
A group of 60 or so described species originating primarily
in Africa, sansevierias hit the European scene in the early 19th
century. As one of the few plants able to survive dim lighting and
laissez-faire maintenance, they were popular houseplants with
the Victorians, becoming ubiquitous living fixtures, from overstuffed
English parlors to villa patios along the Mediterranean.
In the mid-2oth-century, with the advent of modernism,
they were remade, going from dust collectors to must-haves,
deemed an ideal match for the trim, minimal style of contemporary
architecture.
But they are so ridiculously effortless to grow (the only thing
easier is a plastic plant), that their popularity midcentury was
not limited to modernism aficionados. Everyone had snake
plants (also cheekily called mother-in-law's tongue), and pieces
of them were routinely cut off and shared with neighbors, making
them a classic pass-along plant. Today many people still
refer to them as a "grandmother plant," their early memories
of sansevierias connected indelibly with visits to Grandma's
house and seeing snake plants on her front porch or in a window,
parked on a pie tin among those other tough characters
pothos, Swedish ivy and wandering Jew.
For me, Sansevieria was an early initiation into the wonderful
world of green leafy things. As one of the plants my mother,
like so many other people, grew well, it was a steady bit of potted
greenery about the house, and I remember the first time it
flowered. I was mesmerized by the line of ants marching up the
flower stalk, each freesia-fragrant little bloom glistening with a
drop of nectar. It was such a remarkable event that my mother
(an artist) immortalized our humble snake plant by painting its
portrait, which she still has hanging on a wall in her house.