An Exploration Scroll on colour, evidence, and the language we attach to variegated plants.
The plant trade often uses the term “True Pink” to describe a particular appearance in variegated plants. It is familiar language, and many collectors understand what someone is trying to communicate when they use it. But familiarity and repetition do not necessarily tell us what the word “true” actually establishes. So rather than accepting or rejecting the term, I think it is worth asking a simple question: 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 “𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲”?
𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗕𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
Consider Alocasia cuprea. One person posts a plant and calls it “True Pink.” Another person posts another A. cuprea and uses the same description. Then another appears, and another. Yet these plants are 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗧, 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗢𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗚𝗘. They may have come from different growers, different sources and entirely separate propagation histories, while sharing an appearance that people have come to associate with the words “True Pink.”
As the terminology is repeated by growers, sellers and collectors, it becomes familiar. Eventually, seeing “Alocasia cuprea True Pink” repeatedly can make it appear that “True Pink” identifies a clearly defined type of A. cuprea. But 𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗨𝗦𝗔𝗚𝗘 - 𝗜𝗧 𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧, 𝗕𝗬 𝗜𝗧𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙, 𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬. So what actually connects the different plants carrying that description? Is it documented lineage, a defined phenotype, a measurable colour standard, a particular pigment or biological mechanism, genetic evidence, or simply a recognizable appearance that has acquired a shared trade name?
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗡 “𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗘”
Pink is not a single fixed colour. It exists across a 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗠 of hue, saturation, value and undertone. It can be pale or deep, warm or cool, vivid or muted, and move toward rose, mauve, salmon, lilac, purple or red. So when we place the word “true” before pink, what exactly is that additional word intended to tell us?
Perhaps “True Pink” is simply a useful horticultural description for a particular recognizable appearance. If that is the case, there is nothing inherently wrong with the terminology. Trade language helps growers, sellers and collectors communicate. But if “true” is understood to establish something biological, botanical or genetic about those plants, that becomes a different kind of claim. 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚. If something beyond appearance is being implied, it is reasonable to ask what evidence establishes that distinction.
𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗔 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗦𝗘 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗞?
That question is not based on “False Pink” being another plant-trade term. It arises from the word “true” itself. If one particular appearance is described as “True Pink,” 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸? And if there is, what would make it false?
A colour does not cease to fall within the pink spectrum simply because it is a different shade, saturation or undertone from another pink. Rose-pink, dusty pink, mauve-pink or a pink influenced by red or purple can look very different from one another while still being perceived within that broader spectrum. That does not mean every reddish, mauve or purple colour should automatically be called pink; it means that colour does not always fit into the rigid boundaries our labels suggest.
This is why the word “true” interests me. 𝗜𝗳 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗺, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 “𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲” 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿? Perhaps nothing does. Perhaps “True Pink” simply identifies the particular appearance that horticultural usage has attached to those words. If so, understanding it as a trade term may be more useful than trying to make the word “true” carry a botanical meaning it was never demonstrated to have.
𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚?
The plant photographed for this Scroll is an 𝗔𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗮 𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗱𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮 growing in our Grove. She has not yet been named or released, and I am deliberately not assigning her a colour-based label. Her leaf moves through green, smoky metallic tones, mauve and plum, with areas that can reasonably be perceived within the pink spectrum. Rather than beginning with a label and trying to make the plant fit it, I would rather begin with the plant and ask: 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴?
𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘
Describing a visible colour is not the same as explaining why that colour appears. We may reasonably describe what we see as green, mauve, rose, pink, purple, bronze or somewhere between those colours, but appearance alone does not establish the pigment involved, the cellular mechanism behind it, its genetics, its stability or whether two plants showing similar colours arrived there through the same process. Lighting, exposure, white balance and even the screen on which a photograph is viewed can also influence our perception of colour.
That distinction gives us three useful questions: 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀? And if we describe one particular expression as “True Pink,” 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 “𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲” 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗳𝘂𝗹?
𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥
This is not an argument against using “True Pink,” nor is it a declaration that plants carrying that description are incorrectly named. It is an examination of 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗠 𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗦 𝗨𝗦. A trade term can be useful without being a botanical classification, and widespread usage can establish a shared horticultural vocabulary without establishing that every plant carrying the term shares the same lineage, genetics, pigment or biological mechanism.
Perhaps the better approach is to allow horticultural language to remain useful while still asking what sits behind it. We can describe what we see without assuming we know its cause, recognize familiar terminology without allowing repetition alone to become evidence, and distinguish a trade description from a botanical conclusion. 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗘𝗫𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗔 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗠. “True Pink” may have an established place in horticultural language, but the question remains worth asking: 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 “𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲” - 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸?
For now, the Alocasia pseudosanderiana photographed here remains unnamed. 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿.
— Mandy Vasquez
Owner, Variegated Greens