My process, design philosophy & journey
I’ve been contemplating a lot lately.
Like most of us probably!
What do I want to do, what don’t I want to do, what makes me truly happy?
Actually, I review this regularly, hence why I have had several reincarnations over the years! I’ve come to a very interesting conclusion (more on that another time) but the process reminded me of a piece I wrote for Floral Kin mid lockdown in 2020. I also realised that I haven’t shared these insights here and because they are so fundamental to the way I work I wanted to put that right …
I create designs firmly rooted in the landscape,
they appear to have grown there and ‘belong’.
The origins of each piece are a little more tricky to articulate, being rather amorphous and more than a little vague.
My process, now more akin to that of an artist than a floral designer, draws on a feeling or a tiny detail and the end result just can’t be articulated, until it’s finished, because I don’t know how it is going to look.
It starts by taking inspiration from the building the design will adorn, the colour of the walls; the purpose of the room, both now and when it was first built; the event, the client and, possibly most importantly, the geographical location. Working with the bounty that day, week, month and season has to offer is key, but the location itself is what really informs my work the most.
I’m happiest when losing myself, seeking out deliciously interesting textures, colours and forms of site-specific ingredients, it makes the design feel ‘right’, to meld it into its surroundings. Everywhere in the world has unique treasures to offer, be it the wuthering, rugged Yorkshire moors where I live; the scented herb-filled groves of the Mediterranean or the arid landscape of a volcanic island; each landscape has its own sheer beauty that should be embraced and leaned into, not quashed or manipulated to fit.
The more specifics that get put on each design ‘don’t use this; you must use that; I’d like these colours please; please make this there’ adds a level of doubt into every decision and the design becomes an inferior version of what it could have been.
As I start to wrestle the initial ideas, my brain switches and transports me to the place, gradually, I start letting everything seep into me, the feel, the smell, the texture, I can totally visualise that place. This is not a time for flitting from project to project, this is a time to block out everything else from my mind and just become a receptor. Ideas start to form, inspirations start creeping in and the seed of a plan starts to germinate.
Pushing the limits is something I particularly love to do - make it bigger, or more precarious; just teetering on collapse.
It’s a dangerous line to tread and if it does want to start toppling or outgrowing it’s allotted space, I adapt easily and just make it work, trusting all the while that it will actually be better for whatever ‘mishap’ may occur. A huge mantelpiece design with long branches leaning forward into the room, should of course succumb to gravity, I just innovate using tricks and engineering to stop that happening (all the time relishing the added frisson of wondering whether each piece added is going to be the one that makes it all tumble to the ground! ). The easy solution is to make it smaller, keep pieces at the front short, keep the whole piece more stable, that’s just not an option for me!
Arriving at set-up armed with just a load of mechanics, branches and flowers and my vague proposal to the client of doing ‘something big and elaborate here’ or ‘hang something that appears to be floating there’, with no clear plan or vision, holds no fear for me.
It’s exciting and exhilarating
I just let the ingredients do the work.
Their shape, form and texture are what guide their position and consequently that of every subsequent piece. Every design I’ve ever created inevitably has a beautiful little detail that could never have been planned or foreseen - the light that shines through the window highlighting the veins in the leaf; the tiniest nodding stem of a little fritillary ‘dancer’ stealing the show from the huge branches next to it; two flowers, perfectly blending in colour, having a ‘dialogue’ from either side of the design.
The original scrap of an idea gradually takes form and the creation starts to appear out of nowhere, until eventually it’s finished; like the vision I had in my head, but then again, nothing like the vision I had in my head! It’s a very freeing, hugely satisfying way to work and unquestionably the results are the better for having freedom throughout the process, it truly develops as it is made. An utterly unique, never- to-be-recreated piece of art.
It was not always this way …
holding back the years
My work now was unimaginable back in 2005 on a May day, after leaving my corporate job to start a floral business (I’ve never wanted a shop), I was completely unknown and being 2005, this was pre-social media. I had the idea of a business but no real vision of what it would consist of, as long as I was working with flowers.
I had to be flexible and receptive to opportunities that came along and gradually the hustle for corporate contracts, weddings and events took over until that was all I was doing.
The design process was hardly creative at all, yes we made beautiful pieces using glorious flowers and herbs, but as well as the aesthetics, it was also guided by a spreadsheet, a ‘recipe’ of flowers, taking the client ‘mood boards’ as my brief. The vision was theirs, I was somebody to put their vision into practice, I just had to work out the how and make it happen.
Multiple events saw me move further away from the flowers. Late night after late night of online order forms and calculators, I was becoming the queen of spreadsheets. This was ‘how it was done’ and I just went along with it, hustling for more and more weddings, feeling the number I did was in direct proportion to how successful I was.
Annus Horribilis
In May 2014 my Mum passed away, but I had to pick myself straight up to focus on 45 weddings in five months, two of which were the week she died.
Taking one week at a time, I became a machine, living in the workshop with a team of freelancers, setting up one wedding, returning exhausted to the workshop to start work on the next and repeat - until October.
By the beginning of November I thought “enough, I just cannot operate like this”. Having already given up a busy career for a ‘passion project’, the original intention of doing something I loved got lost somewhere along the way and I was in danger of losing the love for it all completely.
So I regrouped & started my transformation …
I’m now in such a wonderful position to have a perfect mix of designing, travelling (when we’re released from our Covid bubbles) teaching and growing in my garden. Like my designs themselves, I didn’t have this vision in mind when I applied the brakes, it just developed along the way. Opportunities came along that I grabbed with both hands if it lit a fire in me, others were turned down if they didn’t feel truly right, even if it was a large globally recognised brand asking (I’ve never regretted that).
My advice would be to anyone, no matter what stage you’re at - look deep into yourself, decide what you REALLY want to do, no matter how obscure.
There isn’t a fixed ‘recipe’ for a good and successful floral business so why not create your own with you at the absolute heart of it?
Build it and they will come!
What don’t you want to do? Just don’t do it!
Then go all out for what is right for you - shouting it from the rooftops in everything you do to attract your perfect clients. If you have to do something ‘off brand’ to pay the bills then don’t show it. What are you brilliant at? What can’t you do? What would you like to combine with flowers? Maybe there’s a very specific part of floristry that you love and want to do day in, day out? Maybe you have a skill or a strength you can embrace? By making it integrally YOU, you’ll carve out a unique place that only you can occupy. It will be slow at first, but once you start finding your niche you will fly.
Out of bad comes good
I’ll probably never know how much of the change from the origin of my business to now, is just the natural lifecycle of a business; how much is age and having the confidence to say ‘this is what I do, take it or leave it’; how much is a reaction to events along the way.
Maybe 2014 was just a catalyst to something that was going to happen anyway, maybe not?
looking back now, I’m so pleased that 2015 became a whole new beginning for me.
Since writing this piece a new mentoring programme has been added to my offerings.
In collaboration with Rachel Petheram of Catkin Flowers it is aimed at anyone trying to find their style and is designed to uncover your perfect business.
Images of me creating the fireplace installation - Belle and Beau Fine Art Photography
Written originally when I was still known as ‘Firenza (you see - I said I kept reincarnating!) for Floral Kin - a digital storytelling platform for floral professionals focusing on community, culture and shared experiences.
