The plant studies of Leonardo and Dürer move us not just as remarkable works of art, but also by the faith they show in the accord between artistic and scientific inquiry. Expectations of art and science have changed since the Renaissance, but the practice of botanical art continued to flourish, most notably in the 17th through 19th centuries, in the form of florilegia — collections of images of plants from a particular garden. A handsome exhibition at the New York School of Interior Design focuses on this traditional genre, with 74 contemporary watercolors loaned by permission of one of today’s better known traditionalists: HRH the Prince of Wales.

Charles’s many enthusiasms include both gardening and art, and these watercolors, produced by 46 international artists working from the plants in his 15-acre garden at Highgrove, are now on public display for the first and only occasion. Thereafter, they will be available, at least to 175 subscribers, as reproductions in a sumptuous two-volume florilegium.

A just-completed copy of the first volume appears in a large display case. It’s indeed impressive: The reproductions are printed on hand-stitched, archival pages more than 2 feet tall, using a sophisticated lithographic process to ensure color accuracy. The real treats of the exhibition, however, are the watercolors themselves, hanging in two neat tiers around the gallery. They are stunning in their luminous precision, their graceful technique all the more extraordinary in light of the medium’s notorious difficulty.

Many of the artists positively delight — discreetly — in the physicality of their subjects. A watercolor of a fritillaria imperialis by Sally Crosthwaite (who, like most of the artists, is British) shows a clutch of leaves twisting with wonderful serpentine energy beneath a collar of vivid orange-red blossoms. The broad leaves of a rhododendron splay across the bottom half of a watercolor by Lizzie Sanders; at their upper edge erupts a fantastically dense ball of pale pink and lavender blooms. Exceptionally delicate are the magnolia branches and flowers by Mayumi Hashi, who captures the buoyant gesture of leaves opening, wing-like, above a pale blossom.

Details of seedpods or cross-sections of fruit in the margins of some works recall the watercolors’ original purpose as scientific records. In some, the manner of rendering itself imparts a studied air; a eucalyptus branch by Sally Vincent strikes a rich but somber note with its austere forms and silvery green hues.

Volume one of the Highgrove Florilegium has been opened to the page picturing a particularly formidable vegetable: a large leek by Katherine Manisco. The original watercolor hangs nearby, and here one sees firsthand how the artist exploited, to monumental effect, the herringbone pattern of leaf sheaths. Other exquisite works in the exhibition were produced by artists from Canada, South Africa, Australia, Switzerland, France, and the United States. Interestingly, very nearly all the artists are women.

As expected, given their original function, the prerogative of the illustrator sometimes shows in these watercolors. The literalism of rendering means that contours aren’t necessarily tightened or shifted to animate the gesture of a stem or leaf. In some cases, the highlights seem drained of color, rather than taking part in a plastic continuum of hue. Inevitably, the inventorying detracts at times from the largesse of rhythms.

All in all, however, these portraits of plant life, so disciplined and exuberant, reward in the same ways as “high art.” My favorite watercolor, a depiction of scrophulariaceae by Josephine Hague, captures the gleam of a pale purple blossom and light brown seedpods before a great, dimpled leaf, whose velvety green spreads across half the paper’s surface. Colors are pitched for the most eloquent contrasts, while bright details set off broad masses, individualizing every element. The inventions of artist and nature, in short, are in wondrous accord. Albrecht Dürer himself might have been jealous.

Until April 12 (161 E. 69th St., between Lexington and Third avenues, 212-472-1500).