Сегодня вспоминаю день вчерашний. Тот день, когда чествуют флористов. Вся жизнь моя связана с цветами. Первая грядочка в детстве - это иллюстрация сложности сделать выбор: половина отдана моркови и зелени, половина отдана цветам. По сей день в цветочные миксборды сажаю чеснок, лук, зелень (морковь не вызревает). Букеты дарят, сама покупаю, собираю летом на лугах и при дорогах, любуюсь цветами, их же и пишу,
Сподобилась познать, как работают мастера флористики. Каждый цветок требует внимания и заботы, а их проходят тысячи тысяч через хрупкие женские, реже, мужские руки. Цветы колют, окрашивают в сочную зелень, делают руки натруженными, но при этом поддаются и превращаются в букеты, а это творчество. Когда работаю с маслом или акварелью, то руки тоже страдают от краски, но получается гармония.
Творчество с живым материалом требует терпени и внимания к нему гораздо большее, тут необходимо договориться с цветком, замиксовать, как бисквит. При этом помните про руки?
У меня имеются и свои «Цветы жизни», над которыми тоже работаю постоянно, а когда они втроём в одном пространстве, то договариваюсь постоянно с ними. Здесь страдают не руки, а мозг, порой взрывается, но результат, как прекрасный букет на выходе.
Посему, подумала и решила поздравлять флористов, садовников и родителей, которые взращиваются цветочки! Творческого вдохновения и терпения всем нам!
Today I remember Yesterday. The Day of florists. My whole life is connected with flowers. The first Garden bed in childhood is an illustration of the difficulty to make a choice: Half is given to the carrots and greens, half is given to the beauty of flowers. By now I plant garlic, onions, and greens in a flower mixboards (carrots do not ripen).
Bouquets are the presents of my life, I buy them by myself as well, I collect flowers in the summer in the field and along the roads. I admire flowers, and pain them.
I was honored to know how florist masters work naturally. Each flower requires attention and care. Thousands of thousands pass through the delicate female, less often, strong male hands. Flowers prick, spoil hands by its juicy greens, make hands tense. The same time they yield and turn into bouquets. This is the creation! When I work with oil or watercolor, my hands suffer from paint, but harmony is obtained.
Creativity with living material requires much more patience and attention to ithere it is necessary to agree with a flower, mix it up like a biscuit. At the same time remember about the hands?
I also have my own “Flowers of Life”, on which I also work constantly, and when they are three in the same space, I constantly negotiate with them. It is not the hands that suffer, but the brain, sometimes it explodes, but the result is like a beautiful bouquet on the way out.
Therefore, I thought and decided to congratulate florists, gardeners and parents who grow flowers! Creative inspiration and patience to all of us! are honored. My whole life is connected with flowers. The first bed in childhood is an illustration of the difficulty to make a choice: half is given to carrots and greens, half is given to flowers. To this day I plant garlic, onions, and greens in flower mixboards (carrots do not ripen). Bouquets are given, I buy it myself, I collect it in the summer in the meadows and along the roads, I admire flowers, and write them myself,
I was honored to know how florist masters work. Each flower requires attention and care, and thousands of thousands pass them through fragile female, less often, male hands. Flowers are pricked, painted in juicy greens, make hands tense, but at the same time give in and turn into bouquets, and this is creativity. When I work with oil or watercolor, my hands also suffer from paint, but harmony is obtained.
Creativity with living material requires much more patience and attention. It is necessary to agree with a flower, mix it up like a biscuit. At the same time remember about the hands?
I also have my own “Flowers of Life”, I also work constantly growing them up. When they are three in the same space, I constantly negotiate with them. It is not the hands that suffer, but the brain... sometimes explode. I hope l will get the result which will be like a beautiful bouquet on the way out.
Therefore, I thought and decided to congratulate florists, gardeners and parents who grow their flowers! Creative inspiration and patience to all of us!