I was shaping pizza dough tonight and took my time coaxing it, letting it warm up, soften and expand in my hands, and it made me think of the flowers.
I have about 300 friends in common with Max Gill and we've been circling each other for years but have never met. He taught a floral design workshop for some of our employees at Front Porch Farm last year, right around the time that my life was falling apart, and I couldn't make it to the workshop. The following week I asked Zoe about Max's workshop, and what I remember her saying, in addition to how lovely and what a beautiful person he is, was how he taught floral design to the group with theatre language and metaphor. Apparently he used to be pretty heavy into theatre, so he would say things like, "I'm going to move this ranunculus stage right" or "we really need the lead peony in the spotlight, and the sweet peas in the chorusline."
As a musical theater lover, I was smitten with this way of thinking about floral design, or about anything we create or design.
Every so often I think about how in high school I turned down an opportunity to train with the Junior Olympic volleyball team, because it would've prevented me from being in the spring high school musical. It was Little Shop of Horrors for Pete's sake!
I've had a few fleeting moments of wistful regret, (oh the glory I could’ve basked in with my incredible athletic prowess!), but nah...
Ain't no party like a high school musical theater cast party amiright??
Thinking of where Max naturally goes in his head when designing with flowers (the stage), and turning the pizza dough patiently round and round tonight, made me wonder about where I naturally go in my head with the flowers.
I immediately think of very loving consensual sex. Lol.
I know! It's fine. Call me a freak or whatever. Please see my previous post on how many fucks I have left to give.
But seriously though, if we could just be mature adults here for a hot minute.. are we ok?
I like to approach my flowers (I consider them mine once they're in my care) with reverence, tenderness, lots of listening and responding to what they need and what feels best for them. I don't ever force my flowers into anything they're not feeling. It's very obvious when flowers have been coerced into a position or vessel or color combo that isn't working for them, or when their conditions and environment haven't been well considered. What people don't see when they sit in front of an artful, vibrant, lush flower arrangement, is how much tenderness and caretaking, sweat and muscle and tedious labor goes into growing and prepping each stem before they have their moment to shine. If the flowers don't receive this tender care before being arranged and presented, they tend to go limp, they'll lose their vigor, or they'll look stiff and uncomfortable and awkward. Some are so bedazzled and dyed and manipulated with toxic shit that their natural beauty is hardly recognizable. Although, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and maybe they find pleasure in this shape shifting. Maybe some basic ass conventional roses have loads of fun getting wild with their rainbow tie dye treatments. Who am I to judge?
Flowers are as varied as lovers. Some are shockingly sturdy and need a confident, sure hand, while others are incredibly sensitive and need a light touch. Flowers like tulips don't mind being massaged and kneaded into a particular shape or line. The soft stemmed bulb flowers of spring are more or less submissive like that. Roses of course are thorny. The wild rambling ones will cut you and leave you throbbing long after they're gone, but you’ll never forget their intoxicating fragrance.
Dance is also an apt metaphor for describing the art of floral arranging. But at their core I think, sex and dance and floral design are about a wordless communication and attentiveness. They're about making a composition from joining disparate things. They're about the organic, animal, and spirit realms more than the intellectual. They're about physical matter and energy colliding with mysterious spiritual energies. As soon as overthinking and analyzing creep onto the scene, the magic is dead. Whether in the bedroom, on the dance floor, or in the vase. Flowers shine when their opening is timed perfectly for their big moment, when they have the right partners to dance with, and when their environment supports their particular needs.
So, in conclusion, my advice for those interested in flower arranging or floristry is this: Make love to the flowers. Make them purr, make them sing, make them dance. Let them show off for you, in the way they want to. You’ll be surprised how much they give back.
Tantric Flower Arranging 101 coming soon. (jk jk but, could be fun?)