I have been thinking a lot about ikebana lately. Less about making arrangements, and more about what the practice has come to mean to me and how I might share some of it with other people.
Ikebana is often described as the Japanese art of flower arranging. Once you begin studying it, that definition feels too small.
In Sogetsu, the school I study, ikebana is treated as a creative art. Founded in 1927 by Sofu Teshigahara, the school was built around individual expression. Sogetsu still describes ikebana as something that can be created “anytime, anywhere, by anyone,” using any material.
Flowers and branches are only part of the vocabulary. Dried material, grasses, fruit, vegetables, vines, seed heads, found objects, and other unconventional materials can all become part of the work.
I have worked with flowers for most of my life, but studying ikebana changed my relationship with plant material. I spend more time noticing now. A branch growing awkwardly toward the light, a leaf beginning to decline, grasses along the side of the road, the first signs that a season is changing. Things I might once have noticed in passing have become much harder to pass by.
Sometimes I begin with an idea and go looking for what might express it. Other times a material catches my attention first, and the arrangement begins there.
There is a lot of formal study involved in ikebana, and I value that deeply. But it has also become a place for me to play.
Children are often introduced to ikebana through that same sense of play, and the results can be astounding. They make decisions adults might talk themselves out of.
Sometimes an arrangement becomes something I never intended. A mass of material begins suggesting another image entirely. And sometimes I recognize myself in the work.
Ikebana can be rigorous and ridiculous, restrained and excessive. It gives me somewhere to put whatever I happen to be carrying that day.
It has also made me more aware of the seasons: the light beginning to change, the shapes a shadow makes, flowers giving way to seed, the way weather alters the shape of a plant.
The material records what has happened to it.
All of this has changed how I think about teaching.
I am not particularly interested in a room full of people making eight identical arrangements. Prescribed forms have an important place, especially when learning fundamentals, but what excites me is what happens when someone begins making their own decisions.
I want to teach people to look at what is in front of them, understand the tools and mechanics available to them, and then figure out where they might take it.
I have been calling this idea The Art of Seeing: Ikebana as a Creative Practice.
The workshops will launch in 2027 and will be firmly rooted in ikebana while exploring material, composition, color, space, seasonality, and ideas borrowed from other forms of art. There would be enough structure to give the work direction, and then room to experiment.
For people new to ikebana, technique would naturally be part of that: how to use a kenzan, secure a branch, handle the tools, and understand what different mechanics allow you to do.
I am also thinking about opening my collection of vessels, kenzan, and tools for use during workshops so students can experiment without needing to own everything themselves.
But workshops are only part of what I have been thinking about.
Sometimes what is missing is simply somewhere to work regularly. Room to experiment. Access to tools and vessels. Other people working alongside you.
That is the idea behind Making Room: An ikebana open practice at Hafner Florist.
Members can bring something from their garden, something responsibly foraged, something purchased from the flower bar, or something less expected entirely. I actually want people to bring the odd things they find interesting.
A selection of vases from the Vessel Library, along with tools and kenzan, will be available to use. Members are also welcome to bring their own. The studio space I use to photograph my own work will be available as well.
An optional prompt will be sent beforehand for anyone who wants some direction. People can also work on their own ideas.
Each session will begin with a brief introduction, followed by independent practice. Guidance will be available when asked. We will finish with a group critique led by me, so everyone can benefit from seeing and discussing the work, then disassemble the arrangements, clean up, and return borrowed items.
The point is not to turn every session into another class. It is to make regular practice easier. No prior ikebana experience is required.
Making Room will begin in November 2026, with four sessions each month. Sessions will last 2.5 hours, with space for up to twelve people.
Membership will be free, with an initial cap of thirty members and a waitlist once those places are filled. Each session will cost $15, with flowers and other materials purchased separately. Members can bring their own materials or purchase them through Hafner Florist.
If this sounds like something you would enjoy, I have opened an interest list. Your availability will help shape the days and times we offer.
Joining the interest list involves no commitment and does not reserve a membership. A separate email will invite you to sign up when membership opens. Right now, I am mostly curious to see who is out there.
Join the Ikebana interest list →
Maybe there are more of us than I think.
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