I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday.
I called my father up after a long day spent in an unpleasant work environment. "I am going to search out loans from banks. It's time to go it alone... I've been doing this too long for other people. I can't do it anymore." A flurry of emails and plans and negotiations and numbers and equations followed. They added up to this:
My father gave me a flower shop.
Fifteen months later he was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Four months later, he breathed his last breath on this earth.
It was the opening day of my first installation as floral artist.
For some people, floral design is a craft. A daily exercise of an accumulation of practiced movements toward a certain predetermined arrangement. They lack life...inspiration, or an honoring of the time taken to bring those materials to this space and time.
It may be too serious, or metaphysical, or heavy for an initial blog, but there is one thing I will always accept being accused of: I will always be real. The arrangements made in this space will be real, and taken as an honor to the man that made our dream possible. We won't compromise on that. This is not just a job or craft to us. It is an art.
Whew, glad all the serious stuff is over! Dad made us laugh, taught us that despite all the negative aspects and events in life; there is always joy... or at least a silly face to break up the monotony! That to take ourselves too seriously is the truest mistake in life. There is always room for change, room for growth, and best of all room to laugh!!! He may not have understood art (this IS the man that went through an entire major metropolitan museum in under 45 minutes) but he did respect those capable of creating it.
My father gave me a flower shop.
I hope to give you so much more.
