My grandma Gerri was a clown. 

In some of my earliest memories, she’s painting her face white and fixing a fluffy red wig to her head. She’s embracing the oggling of strangers and stopping to share jokes with whoever will indulge her.

She was known to incite joy with the balloon pump she kept hidden in a suitcase. She seemed to pull magic out of her hat. I think she was a laughter artist. 

When she passed away, planning her funeral was hasty and joyless.

“Choose this or that. Open or closed casket? Sign here.”
I watched the full color spectrum of her life reduced to a few checkboxes. As an artist and a practicing florist, I was unsettled.

Wishing that her memorial had looked and felt more like the joyous life she had lived, I sought a creative outlet for confronting her loss. I reimagined and recreated the flower arrangements that would surround her at her funeral. Next, I imagined what a garden which represented her might look like.

This exercise would evolve into studio gerri. During the studio’s first year, I offered these floristry services to friends and loved ones. Its scope has evolved to include design services for the outdoors such as gardens and patios. My work is constantly examining the way we use flowers, gardens, and trees to both celebrate and memorialize our lives. It indicates to me the inherent humanity in turning toward nature to heal.