Pressed, Not Lost: Finding Myself in Flowers

I wanted to write about flowers. I am enamored by them. They are where I see true beauty, fragility, endurance, resilience, change, evolution, freedom. They are nature’s art, pure eye candy. I’ve always been fascinated by flower pressing and drying, searching for ways to capture and preserve the qualities I admire. I have drawn flowers, crocheted them, made paper flowers, daisy chains, polymer clay blooms, all the flowers.

Recently, I started experimenting with flower pressing, incorporating the results into my mixed media work. At first, I was disappointed, the flowers lost their shape, colour, and form, the very things I loved about them. But as I sat with this, I realized my art was mirroring something deeper. I’m currently creating pieces that explore my relationship with aging physically, emotionally, and mentally. And in that moment, I saw myself in those pressed flowers. I am not less than I was in my freshest form; I am something more. An evolution. A continuation. And when I am gone, I, too, will be repurposed, another chapter in an endless story, another form of art.