British artist Jean Cooke (1927–2008) once declared her hobby as 'ungardening', making it the subject of paintings such as Through the Looking Glass (1960). Towering foxgloves, bright pansies, marguerite daisies and chrysanthemums are among the flowers which spring to life from three terracotta pots and a glass bottle. However, there is more to this wild tangle than first meets the viewer's eye.

Among a mass of green stems and differently shaped leaves, Cooke's flowers appear to fight for space. Disruptors of the domestic sphere, they subvert traditions of still life painting, in which bouquets, fruit and other inanimate objects are neatly arranged to please both artist and audience.

Instead, there's nothing still about this mantelpiece scene, which needs disentangling. Within a tightly packed composition, Cooke has painted flowers, including a pale-yellow iris at the top of the frame, which only just fit within it; this artist-gardener's cut and potted plants appear to keep on growing, with a will of their own.

1960, oil on canvas by Jean Cooke (1927–2008)

This sense of life has been enhanced through the artist's use of impasto and vibrant palette. The paint has been added thickly, in dabs and dashes, while bursts of colour punctuate the scene – bright reds, creamy pinks, pale purples, deep and verdant greens represent flowers in full bloom. Planted on a patterned tablecloth, the plants' upwards growth also contrasts with horizontal lines of yellow and white, which shimmer like the stripes of a freshly mown field.

In numerous other paintings from the 1960s, Cooke depicted the natural world with this same immediacy, presenting it as a source of joy. Grassland (1963), for instance, features wildflowers in the foreground of an inviting meadow which stretches across the canvas; without a sky or horizon line, shades of green immerse viewers in the scene.

At its centre is a barefoot toddler, dressed in white, who appears lost in their Edenic surroundings. Likely one of Cooke's four children, this diminutive figure also represents the artist's sense of escape within the gardens she deliberately left uncultivated.

In Through the Looking Glass, Cooke has brought this wild outside world into her home. As in Grassland, there is a figure to be found in the frame; between the dense foliage and reflected in a mirror, the artist's own tiny head emerges. While light falls upon the cosmos of flowers, Cooke remains in the shadows, camouflaged in muted tones. The artist poses a question: is she hiding, or does she want to be found among the plant pots?

A prolific self-portraitist, Cooke found it a useful method of self-expression as she depicted herself in candid, rather than idealised, terms. Here, her hair has been tied back pragmatically and her eyes are wide open, as if she is not only looking at the glass but through it to find her innermost self – to then be presented in self-portraits such as this.

Far less interested in pleasing the viewer than herself, she once explained: 'Sometimes I paint self-portraits to show off, sometimes to hide away in solitude, sometimes to say "Here I am", sometimes to say "I want to be alone". But always there is a searching for the unknown, the previously unperceived.'

Cooke's searching gaze has been emphasised through the inclusion of the mirror, which has been used as a visual device by artists throughout art history. Painters have long included the symbolic object in compositions to reveal hidden items or represent deeper truths about their subject not readily apparent on the surface. What is Cooke trying to tell her viewers here, then?

A clue can be found in the bottom corner of the canvas, where Cooke has added her capitalised signature: JEAN BRATBY.

At the time of making this self-portrait, she was married to John Bratby, an older British artist who was jealous of her talents. In an attempt to diminish his wife's success, Bratby only allowed her to paint for three hours a day in a cramped and crumbling bedroom.

Given the domestic setup, this painting was probably made in that very bedroom, and certainly reflects the fact that Cooke was existing in the shadow of her husband. Not only has she depicted herself in subdued tones but her stature is far smaller than that of the surrounding flowers, some of which have heads that are twice the size of hers.

Yet, there is simultaneously a note of possibility in the painting. Like Alice in Wonderland, who was shrunk by Lewis Carroll, Cooke appears in harmony with this new botanical world which she has conjured up. Flowers frame her face, creating a protective border around the artist who seems to be telling the viewer and herself, 'I'm here, and I'm painting.'

This same declaration can be heard in the slightly earlier Self-Portrait from 1958, in which Cooke has once again reflected herself – this time in an oval wardrobe mirror.

Similarly, the composition is claustrophobic, suggesting Cooke's feelings of entrapment at that time. But, despite the circumstances, she is defiant, holding a fistful of brushes to assert herself as an artist.

In both self-portraits, Cooke's tactile approach to painting is marked, too. She has used areas of thick and textured oil paint; rather than hiding her brushmarks, she forefronts them, exposing the process of an artist revelling in her medium, releasing feelings and finding self-expression through the act of painting her own image.

She joins a long line of great women artists who have presented themselves in their studios to immortalise their identities not as wives, models or muses, but as creative practitioners. As she said, 'I started painting myself the way I wanted to be seen.' In both paintings, it's as if the viewer has caught her in the act of painting; as she looks up, she grants access to this private moment.

She's also allowed a more playful character into the composition, based on a real-life tale. Rested in the foreground is a small tortoise, who belonged to a neighbour but crawled right into Cooke's garden one morning.

The playful creature carries with it a shell of meaning, as just one year before she painted this picture Cooke had said: 'I'm very dependent on nature and the things around me, each winter I hibernate and then with the first sun like an old tortoise I amble out with bleary eyes and start to see again.'

Although diminutive, Cooke is central to the composition of Through the Looking Glass, wanting and waiting to be found. Having rewilded the self-portrait, she celebrates her great inspiration, the natural world, which blooms in full colour. Moreover, by harnessing the power of the mirror, she invites audiences on a journey with her, through the looking glass, to discover that even in a small bedroom, creativity can flower.

Ruth Millington, art historian and freelance writer

This content was supported by Freelands Foundation as part of The Superpower of Looking

Further reading

Frances Borzello, Seeing Ourselves: Women's Self Portraits, Thames & Hudson, 2018

Ruth Millington, MUSE: Uncovering the Hidden Figures Behind Art History's Masterpieces, Square Peg Books, 2022