Next, I visited 11 perfume shops, asking myself and others: "Is there a perfume made from dandelions?", "Do you know the smell of dandelions, and have you tried using it in your perfume?", and "What do you think about the smell?" Most people laughed at me when I asked these questions and gave me interesting replies such as "It's not a flower you can smell", "Why do you want to know this?", "People like having an exceptional perfume product, so common plants like dandelions, you wouldn't want", and "There are so many raw materials we have to work with, about 4000 raw materials, pissenlit [dandelions in French]... not yet, but it's interesting". I collected all the voices and found two perfumers who were interested in my project and willing to investigate the scent of dandelions or create a space where we could get a sense of their smell.
In South Korea, I visited a plant hospital run by Goyang Special City Agriculture Technology Center as a public service, which had launched in September 2024. I contacted and met with plant hospital doctors Hee-Kyung Yang and Ji-Seop Kim, who established the plant hospital to raise awareness of companion plants, accompanied by a potted dandelion, which I asked them to diagnose. Dr Yang carefully looked at the whole body of the dandelion, even revealing the roots to check their health and condition and then re-potting the plant. Using a magnifying glass and microscope, she pointed out various issues with the leaves (Figure 8), saying:
"This is the trail of the worms, the so-called leaf miners. If we leave them alive, the leaves will eventually die. I am going to spray COY (cooking oil and yolk mixture) on this plant, which is very effective against pests on the underside of leaves. There are no pesticides in it for you to be worried about. The water and oil will block the breath of pests and suffocate them, so you don't have to worry too much".
After giving this treatment, she gave me a prescription and medication. Interestingly, the format of the prescription package was similar to that for humans, which was the doctor's intention -- to treat plants at the same level as humans. She also remarked, "People have dogs or other animals and give them names, but why don't we name plants?" I asked her to make a name for the dandelion plant and she chose "Bion", which means "rainy" in Korean. She explained: "I made it because you came here on a rainy day, and I suddenly felt that the sound of rain was very nice".
It was fascinating to observe how the plant doctors treated dandelions in a manner comparable to how human doctors treat people and how veterinarians treat animals. However, I also realised that my attempt to study and save a potted plant inadvertently harmed the insects living on it due to the chemicals the plant doctors used. I had to acknowledge this as a conflict, which was very painful for me. I realised that intervening in the life of one living thing for a specific purpose can be dangerous to other living things -- bugs, plants, our neighbours, the ecosystem, or even ourselves! Through reflecting on this field study, I have become more aware of the connections between my subject plant (the dandelion) and other creatures. To ensure my reflection is meaningful and to apologise to any insects affected by my project, in addressing the conflicts I highlight in this project, I feel compelled to mark this experience of "saving" the dandelion as a crucial mistake. Additionally, when I shared this project with the plant doctors and discussed how gardeners often treat this plant species as a weed, Dr Kim mentioned that a plant hospital is a place for people who want to save their plants, whereas, outside the hospital, some gardeners try to kill plants they do not want. He said: "Such conflict between the two perspectives; but, actually, there's no conflict because those two groups never bump into each other". I wondered what might happen if these opposite groups came together for a debate and how art can create a space for debate from an unbiased position, creating impartial spectators.