27 March 2013

The Agony and The Ecstasy

At 13, an impressionable age, I sat an art exam. The result? 41%. Not a "just squeaked by" passing grade of 45% or an F but 41%. In that soul destroying moment, it was as if the teacher was trying to prove a point. She did. I never drew again. 


Instead of pursing what I loved, I turned to math and science and the Laws of Straightness. And with that grade, my inner child with her fantastical imagination, her love for colour and whose laughter could be heard as it bubbled into the blue, blue sky as she twirled through the English morning dewy grass, died.

At 13, I began to wear black and a slash of red across my lips as if to prove I could still bleed. At 13, I became in awe of people who could create art, believing that I could not.

So damaged by "The Day I Got The Grade", I never again created anything that could be critiqued. Instead, I allowed my flights of fancy to run rampant and hired amazing people to create what I only dared to see in my mind.So you can imagine my horror when Amanda suggested we attend the Flower Wild Workshop in Palm Springs, California being run by Kate Holt, and being photographed by Jose Villa

Last year I found myself thrust back into the running of Petals. It's all Amanda's fault! I have always been particular ~ it's a blessing and a curse ~ and being so, have become heavily involved in the new direction we want Petals to bloom. Our shop is due to open mid April but I still did not know how to create a floral arrangement or a bouquet or what I felt was a work of art.

The workshop was spilt over two days. The first ~ all business. I was in my milieu. Conversations of profit and loss, bottom lines and presentations, staffing and schedules; we covered it all. Throughout, buckets of flowers sat there waiting patiently. To give themselves up, to be created into something more than they could be on their own. 


After the first day, as class was dismissed, some flowers needed tending to. It had been 95 degrees in the shade and the flowers were feeling it. I knelt down with my new snippers to take away a bloom or a leaf past its prime; happy in the mechanical process of tending to flowers. I peeled back the stiff cardboard stapled together and removed the interwoven tissue that swaddled the roses tighter than a newborn child. I trimmed the woody end at an angle, gave them a shake and set them free and thirsty in a bucket of cool water.






The second day passed in a blur. Kate demonstrated how to create a hand-tied bouquet, effortlessly weaving each bloom into an arrangement that was provocative, carefree and romantic. The colours and texture in perfect balance. And then it was our turn. We were to choose our own flowers ~ whatever we wanted. I felt sick, I needed a list, some structure; a picture to copy. I looked around. There were 14 of us and Amanda was busy taking photographs. There was no one to ask what to do, what to choose. Everyone was just getting on with their designs.















I went over to the flowers and paused. I silently waited for buried memories of creativity to surface from deep within and the belief that I could create something that intrinsically would be pleasing, if only to me. I swept up an armful of flowers: lilacs, roses, ranunculus, rice flower and sweet pea. I took sweet solace that there was no passing grade in this class. 




Kate came over to see how I was doing. I knew she was going to be honest and suddenly I felt 13 again. I tentatively held up my bouquet for inspection. She said it was beautiful, that I understood the concept. As tears came to my eyes, she recognized how much her approval had meant. And there it was. 









They say that your past can destroy you, define you or make you stronger.  Such is the agony and the ecstasy of living. Such is art. 

15 March 2013

A Love/Hate Relationship If Ever There Was One

What is it about Carnations? There is no in between emotion. People either love them or... not so much.

Never liked them. It was as if I had an aversion to them. An adamant knee jerk reaction. We never carried them - I am sure I forbade it! I have felt that way for years. 

And then something in me changed. A few years ago I was in New York and needed to "wash my hands". The closest store was Cartier. Fancy that! In I went and made my way to the bathroom. Just outside the ladies room, there was a row of red topiaries leading the way. Such an intensity of flowers positioned on a series of square pillars. The flowers, a vibrant shade of Cartier red.  As I drew closer, I was shocked to see that each topiary was actually a mass of carnations; they looked simply stunning. 

So if you are on the fence about carnations, I suggest you buy them en masse and in one colour. Two dozen at least and if you are feeling daring buy three. The prices are fantastic and they just may change your life. And if they do, you can only imagine what else you may need to rethink! 



Apart from the carnations (perfect for Easter), also available is a beautiful selection of flowers. As always available in limited quantities. As always, just for you! Do pop into our Design Studio today to pick up a bouquet for the weekend. Or call - 292 7303.

Thistle

Tulips

Mokara Orchids

Wax Flower

Lilies

Ranunculus


Roses 



7 March 2013

Friday's Flowers - It's all in the lipstick

There was something remarkably delicate about the clematis that arrived this week. Each petal - almost translucent. How was it that something as light as gossamer can hold its colour?

Clematis 

Similar to a passion flower but far more... feminine. Seeing them reminds me about the fragility of life: They are a vine, each tendril reaching out to hold on tight. Like a newborn, eyes still closed, fiercely grasping onto its mother's outstretched finger.


Anemones


Vibernum

Chrysanthemum in a gourd vase (exclusive to Petals)





Above Protea, Below Ranunculus 


I was chatting to Karen, a friend, on Skype last night. She is a wine guru and professional organizer - truly. Lifting up my make up box to the tiny computer camera, I proudly showed her my collection of lipsticks all categorized by colour. "What are all those lipsticks compensating?" She asked. "But one can never have enough reds!" I exclaimed, deftly avoiding the question.

Seeing the red ranunculus today reminded me of Chanel 19 "Gabrielle"; a deep red lipstick intense, creamy, demanding and complex. Perhaps my fetish for red flowers and red lipstick are one and the same: I love things that make me feel confident, sassy, sexy, memorable. 

What impression do you want to make when you wear red lipstick?