Jay Plantspeaker

This project made me realize that speaking something into existence is a real thing, write it down, say it out loud — not in the shallow sense by the way, not the kind that promises to “manifest wealth and riches.” I don’t believe the universe hands out checks or adds zeros to your bank account. I believe the universe rewards those who are open to it — with experiences and incredible people who show up on our life paths.

That’s exactly what happened with Jay Plantspeaker. Even though we had never met face to face — separated by oceans and continents — I felt an immediate and deep connection with this grower from the mountains of Oregon.

I had been following Jay’s work for years. In my early days in the cannabis world, I searched everywhere for inspiration and visuals for my art. Instagram was full of growers sharing their life’s work, but one account stood out — brutally honest, entertaining, and almost mythical: Jay Plantspeaker.

Growing in a greenhouse high in the Oregon mountains, Jay shares his entire growing cycle — from seed to harvest, and harvest to medicine. Living the farmer’s life with his wife, Gina, and his son, Justin, they form a strong team tending to twelve giant plants and the many wild deer that roam their property. He doesn’t shy away from confrontation either — at one point, he even streamed live when the police came to raid his greenhouse. It didn’t deter him one bit. Seeds kept popping, in rhythm with the seasons. For Jay, it’s clearly more than just growing plants — it’s a continuous battle for liberty and self-governance of body, mind, and soul.

This long-bearded man, working beneath the canopies of three- to four-meter-tall plants thriving in 200–300-gallon smart pots, became an instant inspiration. He was the old farmer archetype I had been sketching for years — but now he was real, living flesh and bone. Through his videos and posts, I learned new ways to nurture plants — helping them reach enormous heights and yield heavy, resinous flowers — all grown with deep intention and care for their medicinal value.

I wrote in my sketchbook:
“I am going to work with Jay Plantspeaker.”
It was my way of manifesting — writing it down, putting it out there, and letting the universe do its thing.

Some time passed until one day, a message appeared in my inbox — from the Plantspeaker himself. I couldn’t believe it. He asked if I could make a drawing for him. He even referenced one of my earlier pieces — The Hippie and the Bear tending to a giant plant. We arranged a meeting online, and over a spotty connection, we managed to talk for an hour and a half about his life, his bond with the plant, and how cannabis had become the common thread running through it all. I asked if I could take the artwork further and truly capture his life on the farm — he instantly agreed.

Hearing his story, and the sacrifices he’d made to reach this level of mastery, was both inspiring and familiar. Many who have dedicated their lives to this plant have paid a heavy price for it. In Jay’s case, it meant being ostracized by his own family, who couldn’t accept that he worked with a “forbidden” plant. It meant run-ins with the law — a common theme in so many stories I’ve heard over the years working in the cannabis space. The problem was never the plant — it’s the bigoted, downright racist laws that turn peaceful growers into criminals. It’s madness when you really think about it.

Jay works with a legendary Sour Diesel cut — the original New York Sour Diesel, which many claim no longer exists. The story goes that this cut made its way across the country from New York to Jay’s greenhouses in the trunk of a car — making him a preserver of cannabis history, keeping alive a genetic lineage that dates back to the 1990s.

Creating the artwork was pure joy. His farm and all the animals that surround it are an artist’s dream to draw — deer that eat from the palm of his hand, giant guardian dogs protecting the family and the land, and towering cannabis plants filling the greenhouses through summer, standing strong into the fall as snow and ice close in near harvest time. Growing top-quality cannabis in such harsh conditions is no small feat — but when one is taught by the Upper Valley Ancients, one learns to turn seed into medicine for the people, even in the harshest conditions.

When I finished the artwork, I sent both a colored and a black-and-white version — and that’s when the real magic happened. Jay and his hash maker spent the evening studying the pieces, and both agreed the black-and-white version was their favorite. As the artist, I couldn’t agree more. Most people ask for color — they didn’t. They loved the drippy, flowing lines and the way everything seemed to morph together.

We decided to produce two prints: a black-and-white screen print on hemp paper with a green spot color, and a colored version for those who love a little vibrancy. Jay received his stack of prints and the original ink drawing — and though I rarely part with my original inks, this time I was genuinely happy to let it go.

And now, I’ll manifest one more thing:
One day, I will visit the farm up in the hills of Oregon — and stand beneath the greenhouse canopy, puffing on a freshly cured Sour Diesel joint.