03/10/2024
A couple of weeks ago, and I found ourselves threading hundreds of snapdragon heads onto meters and meters of garland, and moulding foil into vessels in a car park. A standard Thursday...
I think a lot about the term ‘floral design’. I always feel like a bit conceited using it... It feels a bit too phnar phnar daahling, I’m a floral designer.
But at the same time, the word florist doesn’t feel quite right either. Most people immediately respond with ‘oh, where’s your shop?!’ … Cue my 15 minute rant on why the high street florist is the 6th most in decline business on the high street, and what I see as the future of floristry. (see for more…)
So I find myself in this middle ground of wanting to save the poor innocent people who ask me about my nonexistent shop, and not wanting to sound too far up my own arse, but also striving to explain how what I do goes beyond simply arranging flowers into a vase.
But the truth is, it is design. Working to a brief, within the constraints of the season (and a budget), to deliver beautiful flowers that are connected to and tell the story of an event and the people organizing it, as well as of the time and place.
I spend a long time thinking through what flowers to use, which ones will ‘perform’ in the way that is asked of them, their symbolism, how to incorporate elements that tell the story of my clients, or convey a subtle meaning.
It’s part of the job that I enjoy the most.
And I get to flex my design muscle in full, along with , when we design the flowers for the launch of exhibitions at the
For this, Anna and I always take time to really understand the exhibition, who the artist is and what they seek to convey through their art, and then explore how we can link to this through our flowers…
Which is how we found ourselves in the car park outside the Fitzwilliam Museum preparing flowers for the new. Glenn Ligon exhibition opening.
The rationale and final design will follow… but I should add, when asked, I do still say I’m a florist. Anyone else?!
