7 Stifling Statements: Thoughts on Teaching and Learning Floristry
I fell in love with floristry nearly 20 years ago, when a friend asked me to design her wedding flowers. I was not a florist at the time…I was what I call a “vaguely artistic” person who made jewelry as a hobby. We met to chat about the necklaces I was making for her wedding, and in conversation, she revealed she had not hired a florist. I agreed to help her, thinking it would be an interesting challenge, but I didn’t really have strong feelings about the task. So I was quite surprised when I found myself, in the midst of the work, ( standing in my kitchen at midnight knee-deep in flower detritus ) completely overtaken with the feeling that I had finally found my medium. The understanding was so instant, strong and clear. I became obsessed with being a florist at that very moment.
An industry ripe for renaissance
As I began to explore the cultural landscape of floristry and talk about my new passion with family and friends, I was disappointed to find that people ( in my part of the world at least ) at the time didn’t view floristry with the same curiosity or enthusiasm that I did. From the start, I saw floristry as a rich artform and a legitimate, creative pursuit. I saw it as a way to express myself by fusing together my love of nature with my love of design, entertaining, and the decorative arts.
Sadly, it was obvious that many people in my orbit did not share that opinion. Quite a few felt it necessary to warn me about my new passion. Some belittled the choice by warning me that I’d never make money. Others suggested there was nothing really to this work; that it was not something an educated person pursues. The general consensus was that this was a hobby or low wage, low skill service job, not a path with potential to bear real fruits. I heard these limiting statements from many different people in my life and I recognized that the culture as a whole undervalued and underestimated florists. However, at the same time, I sensed that the field of floristry was ripe for renaissance.
These conflicting factors stirred something in me. I felt strongly pulled to participate in the work of pushing floristry forward. The two motivating factors that fueled ( and continue to fuel ) my drive are: my immediate connection to this medium and realization that floristry is a rich practice with principles of art to explore; and my desire to change the public’s perception of what floristry is- to challenge its low cultural status.
In the last 20 years, I have done all the things one can do as a florist, but the activity that I connect to most is teaching. Through this practice of sharing my passion, I can actively work towards pushing floristry forward. I can encourage florists to see themselves as artists, and I can challenge the public to see our potential and value.
So why write this manifesto on teaching floristry?
There is a phenomenon I’ve witnessed over the last 10 or so years in the floral world. A renaissance has indeed occurred, and floristry ( with the help of social media, especially Instagram ) has become a more desirable endeavor. A new take on floristry has arisen. One might say the rise of the studio florist….a departure from the traditional models. Some of these florists are artful, hyper-natural, and focused on sustainable methods and locally-grown flowers. Others offer surprising, almost rebellious or irreverent floristry- think painted flowers, purposely exaggerated proportions and clashing color combinations. The commonality I've observed is that many in this “new wave” of florists ( generalizing ) have rejected the “rules” of floristry. Ideology, principles, concepts, design styles, or methods that they view as rigid, traditional, limiting, or outdated. The new wave has captured the attention of floristry students and the public alike. Many artists contributing to this revival of floristry have gained sizable followings and the attention of the media. Naturally, they began to teach their take on floristry.
This revival is made up of a diverse group of artful, creative people who found and fell in love with floristry like I did, but for whatever reason, haven’t connected with formal floral education. Maybe they had a mentor who taught them what they needed to know to create beautiful work, but never addressed the underlying design theory. Maybe they sought out formal instruction but found the options to be too rigid or the design style of the school stagnant or irrelevant. Maybe the schools they found were fixed on teaching unsustainable mechanics ( many still rely heavily on foam ) and outdated design applications. Maybe they just needed to start working and earning money right away, so they dove in and found their own way of doing things. Like cheffing, there is no clear, defined path towards a career in floristry. People jump in and find a way.
I understand and respect that not everyone will have the desire, time, resources, or access to formal training. I recognize that many of the floral design programs available to us leave much to be desired! I understand why formal training could be looked upon with suspicion. I also think that the work of an “untrained” florist can be utterly beautiful and impactful. An “untrained” florist can be wildly successful and influential!
While a flow of fresh energy in any field is exciting, and I think should be acknowledged and welcomed ( at least with curiosity ), especially if it resonates with the public, there is another side to this that I believe needs addressing.
In my experience, many from this new wave ( generalizing again, forgive me ) are brilliant at creating desirable, relevant, fashion-forward work but are unprepared or uninterested in teaching the why behind the work. The theory, the technique, the steps, the specific information that allows a person to gain the insight necessary to go back to their own studio and actualize the work they desire to make. These teaching sessions can feel more like a floral performance than a lesson- the student watches as the performer creates.
This can be a positive experience if the audience has signed up solely for entertainment; but it becomes problematic if the audience has been led to believe the experience is to be an educational one. I believe there is a place for the floral “performance.” It can be lovely to sit down, relax and watch a talented designer design, but it stings when one has made an investment in their education only to encounter a teacher who is performing instead of teaching.
brimming with curiosity, and hungry to learn as much as possible about our craft - these statements frustrated me and threatened to crush my creative spirit.
the many stifling statements I’ve heard from floral instructors over the years
These statements often come out during a presentation when an instructor is asked to illuminate their process or describe their design decisions. Students desperately ( ok, maybe only I am desperate ) want to know the steps necessary to create work as dynamic and artful as theirs. They have often paid large sums of money to find this out. I can recall my earlier days as a student- brimming with curiosity, and hungry to learn as much as possible about our craft- these statements frustrated me and threatened to crush my creative spirit. Some statements made me feel as if I’d never be able to realize the work I wanted to make. They made me feel that maybe I was missing something or just didn’t have “it,” or maybe I would just never be as skillful or artful as the instructor. Cue the Echosmith hit “Cool Kids”: “I wish that I could be like the cool kids, cause all the cool kids, they seem to get it.”
This is how I felt after these classes. That I just wasn’t as cool as the instructor.
Other statements were very similar to the limiting beliefs that I’d heard from my community and the larger culture. Statements that served to diminish or simplify what we do; to reduce it so far that all theory, method, and principles were skimmed off- simply not acknowledged or addressed.
Now, as a full-time floristry teacher and writer, when I hear these statements from my peers, I’m frustrated because they betray the depth and richness of our craft. Students who hear these statements may walk away with a reductive view of our work and without replicable steps towards mastery. I’m certain that this is not the intent of the people who share these statements, but I tell you from experience and anecdotal evidence that these statements are damaging.
I must say that I don’t see myself as a master florist or a master educator with all of the answers. I see myself as an advocate for the profession- I aim to ask questions, represent floristry well, and do what I can to push progress forward.
What do you think?
I invite you to read through this list and consider the implications of these commonly shared statements. As I write, our floral “renaissance,” gains traction and the public is paying attention. It is time to claim the title of artist and communicate our value to the larger culture. We have a rich art form to share and it’s time for us to teach floristry like any other professional art instructor would. Our medium is unique because so much of it is fleeting, but it is still a legitimate art form. We are artists by definition: we create visual compositions that evoke emotion in the viewer. We have history, techniques, theory, method, and principles of design to explore, just like sculptors and painters do.
I ask you to take a moment to read through this list, and ask yourself: Have you said these statements before? ( I have!! ) What made you share them? How did they make you feel?
Click the “+” to read my expanded thoughts on each!
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I’m not sure how the principles of design came to be known disparagingly as “rules.” Maybe our formal floral design training programs focused too much on specific proportions and contrived geometric forms. Even so, many of us have chosen to throw the baby out with the bathwater. The “rules” have become uncool. I think many modern floristry teachers tell people to disregard the rules to encourage them to not box themselves into conventional styles or rigid ways of thinking. Maybe it’s meant to encourage creativity, but I think curiosity is the source of creativity. The “rules” have a source: design principles and the concepts found within the golden ratio. Studying them encourages curiosity and further creative exploration. With some understanding, a florist can really begin to express themselves. They can stretch proportion, play with elements to create challenging contrast, deliberately place components to create impact and visual flow, or push color harmonies by masterfully allocating color. They truly become artists and masters of their craft. The truth is that design principles are never absent from any composition- the question is whether one can recognize and discuss them..
Also, it’s been my experience that telling a student, especially a new student, to disregard the “rules” sets them up for frustration by leading them to believe that they are innately equipped with the skill set needed to produce the art they want to make. While there is not a “supreme rule book” as master florist Hitomi Gilliam AIFD told me, there are principles of design that apply to our work, as in all art forms, and choosing not to explore them does not lead the student towards more freedom or a more artful approach. These principles- balance, proportion, dominance or emphasis, contrast, harmony, unity, and rhythm are present in any composition whether you call them by name or not. The absence of a certain level of understanding leads a student to frustration, indecision, and possibly feeling like a failure if they can’t reach their desired outcome. Art and design principles, and the fascinating concepts found within the golden ratio should not be looked upon with suspicion. They don’t stifle creativity, they serve to guide you through your creative process. Because they borrow from nature and the structure of all living things, they can be used to guide you toward innately pleasing compositions. With a working knowledge of them, an artist can deftly choose how to interpret them within their work.
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Telling students to just trust their gut/use their intuition, and teaching without guiding them through a design process, leads them to believe that if they can’t replicate the demonstration design, or can’t achieve the result they desire, that something must be wrong with their gut or intuition. In my opinion, teaching without offering a process that the students can take and apply is a failed attempt at teaching. This is more of a floral performance, not a teaching experience, as you are not offering concepts that the students can take away after the class that will serve to inform their work. You are not answering questions, or illuminating your process. It also disregards the depth and richness of this artform, by not addressing the design principles within it. When I talked to experienced instructor Hitomi Gilliam about this, she offered that this statement would only be appropriate for an experienced designer who already has a well digested working knowledge of the principles of design and a rich knowledge of method and technique. She said “you have to teach them to understand these principles, so that they become internalized, part of their gut feeling, thus building their intuition.”
For this experienced student, “trusting their gut” is safe, because their decisions come from a place of experience. They are prepared to draw from their well of creativity.
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Students “overthink” when they are frustrated. When they can sense there’s hidden steps or methods within ( a design ) that they don’t have command of. Demystifying the design process, and offering insight into the principles of design will eliminate this tendency to “overthink” and give people a framework in which to work. This statement also serves to quiet curiosity, and might stop a student from asking why. Why is the most important question we receive as teachers!! Why does that proportion work or not work? Why does this feel off balance? How do I make this feel less stiff? How do I achieve the overall form I intended? Tamping down curiosity is the most unfortunate result of this statement.
Recently I received a comment from a well meaning peer. They said: “analyze less, create more.” While well intentioned, I disagree. In general, we’re not taught to critique or analyze our work. In teaching settings we’re offered subjective comments like “that’s really pretty,” or “I like that.” We have to learn how to view our work objectively, and take it through a series of questions. Here are a few questions I regularly ask myself and encourage my students to ask themselves:
• Did I create the form I intended?
• Did I achieve a pleasing visual balance?
• Did I create an impactful focal point or defined areas of interest?
• Do my placements create a visual path that draws the eye through the composition?
With this “checklist” in mind, I can make quick design decisions. I can step back, evaluate, and make adjustments relatively painlessly. And, I know when to stop. This last bit almost received its own dedicated paragraph!! I’ve heard this question more times than I can count. A student will ask a teacher: “ How do you know when to stop?” This question is rarely answered satisfactorily. There is an answer to this question! When a person has a sense of how to analyze their work, they know when to stop. Analysis begins with a plan- a recipe of materials and a general idea of what they intend to make- but the vital part is that one knows they’ve finished a composition when it possesses the intended ( visual and physical ) balance, a pleasing proportion, the intended points of dominance or emphasis, the intended contrast, a sense of harmony and unity, and rhythm ( or visual flow ) With time, these principles become part of a designer’s fiber. The internalized checklist lends ease to the design process and frees up more mental energy for creative exploration.
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Flowers are pretty, of course! We work with a truly unique medium. Unlike other artists, each floral element arrives to us complete, intrinsically beautiful, and ready to use. Each possesses color, form, and texture. People do paint flowers and manipulate form, but generally speaking the raw materials we work with are what they are. The magic comes in how they are designed. Stem placement, color layering, depth, and visual flow. This statement betrays the artform, because it suggests that no real thought goes into crafting a floral composition. The elements could be tossed together randomly, and still be “pretty.” It devalues our ability and role as teacher, and devalues the work of floristry. It suggests floral design isn’t really a skill. It suggests that the discipline is shallow and flimsy, without underlying design principles. I imagine no other artist would say this. Would a painter say “ all the paints are pretty, just slap them on the canvas”? Would a chef say, “all of the herbs and spices are delicious, just mix them all together?” I think this is said to make people comfortable, and to lessen the tension that can arise in a learning environment, but I think it disregards the skill we bring to the craft. When said in demonstrations for the public, I think it also serves to devalue the public’s perception of the effort and skill that goes into our work.
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Of course the decisions that florists make are not life or death decisions, but why is comparison even relevant? Do we feel compelled to admit somehow that our livelihood and passion is less vital than others? Maybe people say this to lessen the intimidation factor for their students, but the best way to lessen the intimidation factor and make people comfortable is to offer them useful information. Statements like these also unnecessarily devalue your authority as a teacher, and undercut the craft itself.
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I’ve heard this unfortunate statement many times over the years. From industry leaders, influencers, media, and floral design instructors. It troubles me because floristry is a rich artform with history, traditions, and its own unique and diverse culture. I find observing the various goings on in our field fascinating!! I suppose one might want to focus on their own work and not look around too much to avoid being influenced. More likely though, when we are unaware of what is going on in our field, we end up creating work that we think is unique and fresh, but really has been seen before. Also, people who don’t pay attention often reinvent processes and create new ways of doing things. This can be positive and lead to innovation, but it can also cause solid techniques and methods to be lost over time. It seems to me an unnecessary dismissal of wisdom and the contributions of others. I’d rather pay close attention, observe as much work as possible, learn sound and reliable processes, and then focus on confidently creating things that feel exciting and unique to me.
The other unfortunate byproduct of not paying attention is that you risk missing out on finding your people. I believe that community is vital to a fulfilling, sustainable career in the arts. It’s essential that we find others who can understand our passion, bolster us when things get hard, challenge us to improve, and support our growth. When you find the right “flower friends” ( and these people do not have to share your design style ) anything is possible.
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I think all students copy to some extent, when new to a creative practice. They connect with a style, an aesthetic, and as they explore it and gain skill, they tend to replicate. I think it’s quite acceptable and natural! We should expect students to try to replicate the work of those they admire. It’s a growth phase, a stepping stone towards honing one’s own unique creative voice.
As a person gains skill and experience, they can begin to actualize the ideas in their own head. They begin ( if they choose ) to express themselves with their own unique creative voice. This phenomenon is described in Austin Kleon’s book “Steal Like An Artist.” This guide to tapping into one’s creativity in the digital age gives people permission to copy the work of those they admire, recognizing that this behavior is a healthy and normal developmental phase. When one accepts this, they can focus on skill building and making steps toward finding their own style.
In a workshop setting, I think it’s especially beneficial to attempt to replicate the instructor's sample instead of going off in your own direction. Provided you are there to gain insight into that instructor’s process, “copying” allows you to gain real knowledge. Mindful replication allows you to digest the steps that the instructor took to achieve the composition and allows you to retain the new information.
calling all Students, teachers, florists of all stripes
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this list! Have you heard these statements? Are there others that you’ve heard that you’d like to share? Please share in the comments or send me an email!
This post was inspired by a chat I recently had with my friends over at The Flower Podcast. You can listen on Apple Podcasts or here:
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