My grandmother used to collect Jasmine flowers from our garden every morning. She would place them in little containers at every window, by the framed photographs of her loved ones who died, and in her bra.
My grandmother smelled of coffee and the occasional cigarette, but mostly, she smelled of Jasmine flowers. She was whimsical and fierce. She was my whole world. Whenever I miss her, I look for flowers or I make flowers. They are my enduring connection to her.
This project, dedicated to my grandmother's whimsy, is a digital attempt at her flower offering. It uses a grid as a grounding visual instrument. The flowers are drawn on the grid, sometimes converging into fanciful bouquets and sometimes standing at odds. They are flowers. They do as they please.
Whether you end up with an ornate floral arrangement or a lone rose, I hope you feel a tingle of my grandmother's magic. Don't be deceived by formalism, for there can be softness even in the cells of a grid. And if you ever need a reminder to be soft (life is usually hard), I hope you return to your bouquet to find it.
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