The Blooming of Black Flora
It was the summer of 2021 and I was attending the Slow Flowers Summit in Woodside, CA. Throughout the pandemic, I discovered a creative calling via floral wearables. While I was new to the floral industry, I wanted to build community in the space. I followed my intuition and spent nearly $1000 on the ticket with no idea what to expect.
Like an adaptation of Alice in Wonderland, I joyfully wandered through the gorgeous Filoli Gardens the first day of the summit.
I walked into the event not seeing many people that looked like me. The audience was predominantly white women over 50, but I was certain I was supposed to be there. I found an empty table and began sketching while I waited for the sessions to begin. I exchanged greetings with a few friendly attendees unaware of the impact they’d later have on my creative path.
One woman was Abra Lee, who would soon bless me with an opportunity to create my first wearable flowers installation. The other woman was Debra Prinzing, the founder of the Slow Flowers Summit. A quick exchange at the beginning of the conference developed into an email thread soon after inviting me to be a part of an upcoming book, “Black Flora”. I excitedly jumped at the opportunity — honored to even be considered so early on in my journey as a botanical artist. Although my skills were still developing, I knew I had a unique perspective to share.
The process of being featured was a catalyst for artistic growth. The ask seemed simple: send over a few images and sit down with Teri Speight to be interviewed for the profile. That conversation with Teri transformed stars into constellations, revealing connections deep in my subconscious. I saw how my move to Oakland years prior had strengthened my relationship to Mother Nature and broadened my definition of community. I was able to truly grasp the impact that the matriarchs in my family had on me as a woman and an artist. I reflected on the enlightenment and used it to set intention for my path forward.
Anxiously, I awaited receiving my copies wondering how a few self-portraits and a delightful chat would translate to the pages of a book. I wondered how others would respond to my budding story as an artist and how it would compare next to seasoned florists & floral farmers. All the anxieties dissipated when I held “Black Flora” in my hands. It became so much bigger than me. Being able to acknowledge and appreciate my mom and grandma on those pages meant more than simply telling my story. This moment of recognition was far beyond those who were featured. It paid homage to our ancestors, mentors and the legacy of our relationship as Black people with the soil we walk on.
2024 Update — Black Flora is back with a new look and new photo spread. Order the latest copy.
