Queer Joy at the Greenhouse
Hello readers,
Wishing you all a sense of ease on this Monday morning. From my window where I sit tapping on my keyboard, I can see birds foraging in my dormant garden and the scraggly lawn. I am delighted to welcome their return as the days start to warm and green daffodil shoots make themselves known in the side yard. Nature continues to be an incredible balm to me during these very scary times—I hope the same is true for you.
As I mentioned in my last email, I recently finished a 10-month flower essence practitioner training with Liz Migliorelli, and I am very excited to finally share the results of my final project from that class.
I went the the program thinking a lot about the “end goal” of being able to offer flower essences formulations to clients and weaving flower essences into my photoshoot offerings. But what actually ended up happening had a lot less to do with the final product and a lot more to do with a shifting worldview, a way of accessing a different perspective that was missing from my life for a long time. The experience of learning the language of flowers opened up a portal for me to see the world as poetic, non-linear and emergent. I can feel the aliveness of nature in a way I never have before, and I feel more connected than ever to my personal magic and the magic of my plant kin.
Part of the training was a final assignment where we created a polyphonic description of a particular flower essence we had made and worked with consistently; in my case, fireweed. I first encountered fireweed during a photoshoot in Discovery Park and it made a lasting impression on me. I decided to do my final project on this new plant friend after feeling like I just couldn’t get fireweed out of my head—nor did I want to! I created this quilt top while dosing with fireweed essence, letting the flowers guide me in choosing the design and complementary fabrics. As I worked on this project over the course of several months, the following words came to me about the medicine of this incredible plant:
Fireweed essence offers an invitation to open. When our inner landscape has been scorched, this potent ally invites us to take the first step of rehabilitation. It aids us with staying devoted, soft and receptive during the darkest times. It is a torch you can touch. It is a sign of hope. It is a reminder that death is not a true ending.
It feels like the medicine we need in these difficult times—and honestly, the same can be said of any practice of land re-connection; I am overjoyed to be seeing many of these practices happening around me, both in my circles and on a global scale. That is what is giving me hope even during this increasingly dire time. Like my personal experience with fireweed, land reconnection feels like a bright torch than can guide us on our way.
As always, I also want to share some recent work! These photographs were taken at the Seattle Greenhouse this fall, on a gray wet day much like this one. A very old friend of mine, Isabelle, (who I first shot with when she was 15 and I was 18!) came to Seattle on a visit with her wife Eden, and I got to capture them together in some intimate and lovely couples portraits.
I know I’ve mentioned this many times before, but I absolutely treasure the privilege of photographing the same person year after year, through all the different phases of their life. That is one of the reasons this work is so very special to me. I can’t wait until next time, Isabelle. :)
Are you seeing any signs of the seasons changing in your corner of the world? Here, the snowdrops are finally opening, and just a little later this week I will be among them capturing a dear friend’s pregnancy. I am really looking forward to it.
I hope you are staying safe and connected to those you love. Talk to you again in a couple of weeks!
Until then,
Holly
