Before I was a florist, I was a visual artist. In my early creative years, I painted florals in the tradition of Chinese brush painting — studying negative space, movement, restraint, and the quiet tension between softness and structure. Flowers were my first subject, long before they became my medium.

Two years ago, after a particularly challenging period working in consulting in Asia, I found myself returning to flowers. During that time, going to the flower market a few mornings a week became a form of grounding. Waking up at 5 or 6 a.m., walking through stalls, choosing stems by hand — it brought a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in a while.

At first, I was simply arranging flowers for myself. I would come home with my arms full of blooms several times a week. The baker at the corner store near my apartment noticed and asked what I was doing up so early so often. He became my first customer. Soon after, I began arranging for a few other shops down the street. What started as something personal slowly grew into something I could share.

I recently moved back to the U.S. and have been selling bouquets out of my home while continuing to refine my practice. My solo work is deeply inspired by Asia — by its emphasis on form, breath, asymmetry, and restraint. I’m drawn to arrangements that feel intentional but alive, sculptural yet soft.

I am still learning, still experimenting, and eager to freelance, collaborate, and grow. For me, floristry is both craft and restoration — an extension of the artistic language I began years ago, now expressed in living form.