AMANDA LUU AND IVANKA MATSUBA, FOUNDERS OF STUDIO MONDINE AND AUTHORS OF IKEBANA UNBOUND
Story by Diana Keeler / Photography by M.K. Sadler
With her partner Ivanka Matsuba, Amanda Luu runs Studio Mondine in San Francisco, the intensely creative, ikebana-centric floral studio in San Francisco. On the eve of the debut of their first book, Ikebana Unbound, we spoke to Amanda about the art of this Japanese flower tradition and the beauty and grace of autumn’s bounty.
How would you describe the appeal of ikebana versus other flower arranging philosophies? If you’re in conversation with flowers, then you’re in conversation with ikebana, regardless of what you arrange. Just as symmetry considers asymmetry, and dark invites light, it’s tough to talk flowers without talking about ikebana. And that’s simply because we can’t get to arranging flowers without considering their sublime naturalness—the way cherry branches appear to bend from the weight of their heavy blossoms, the way a fritillary leaf elegantly falls back from its stem, and the way Cecil Bruner roses shatter into a silent petal confetti on a tabletop. Whether we design with respect to nature, or in defiance of her, nature is at the fore.
How does this practice differ most meaningfully from flower arranging as newcomers traditionally understand it? I imagine newcomers see flower arranging as a means to an end—a centerpiece for a dinner party, a bouquet for a backyard elopement, or a holiday mantel. And certainly, there is something so incredibly important about giving these gifts to ourselves, our loved ones, and our homes. I’m hoping that this book is an invitation to arranging flowers for the sake of arranging flowers. Clip some flowers from your daily walk, or even rummage through your CSA box, clear a surface in your kitchen, and just move through the ritual—no, celebration—of creating.
A study in how wind affects an individual stem, this arrangement of Smoke Bush branches seeks to “bottle” the force of nature as it moves across a branch.
“IF YOU’RE IN A CONVERSATION WITH FLOWERS, THEN YOU’RE IN A CONVERSATION WITH IKEBANA, REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU ARRANGE.” - Amanda Luu, Studio Mondine
As we're coming into autumn, what are some of your favorite seasonal materials? My eye catches the gold nestled in the shrubs and along the trail. Dried branches, dried leaves, and dried flowers gone to seed are among my favorite to work with. They have a patina that cultivated flowers do not. Clematis seed pods, nigella seed pods, and velvety dried celosia are just some of my favorite materials to gather.
Above left; Use stone floral frogs and kenzans (with metal pins) to give added support to ikebana arrangements. Above right; Every iteration of the ikebana art form concerns itself with achieving a state of harmony.
Top; Every iteration of the ikebana art form concerns itself with achieving a state of harmony. Above; Use stone floral frogs and kenzans (with metal pins) to give added support to ikebana arrangements.
Since you bring it up—what's the role of dried materials in ikebana? If we consider the entire lifetime of a flower—from seed to leaf to flower and then back to seed—we see that during a critical part of this cycle, the flower is spent and its dry seed pod splits open so that the wind might carry its seeds to their next bed. I’d argue that working with dried material is essential in capturing the fullness of a flower’s life.
Making space for flowers on a nightstand or a dining table that’s been converted into a home office brings us into the room, into the present moment, and into communion with nature.
Could you share a favorite moment of flower-centric serendipity? There's something about being available to the moment that can transform even a simple walk around the neighborhood. My pup Narra and I discovered a bit of honeysuckle winding its way around the fence of an empty schoolyard the other day. We've been watching the flower buds on its vines plumpen. Today, the first perfumed flowers bid us good morning. We'll be enjoying their sweet scent all week. And, if we feel bold, we may collect a few blooms to dry for tea making.
Above: A tangle of beautiful branches from a plum tree paired with a sturdy, industrial vase
Is there any particular lesson that working with flowers in this way has taught you about life in the larger sense? Something you've observed from ikebana that's more widely applicable? Yes. Many, many lessons, and this one seems to be the one I keep needing to relearn: simply being in the room.
How do you think about considering a space's practical uses in terms of creating the best arrangement for it? Oh, it's of utmost importance. There's an alcove built into traditional Japanese homes called a “tokonoma”—this is where a family would display art objects, paintings, and of course, floral arrangements. While the modern, western-style home might not have this dedicated space, there are plenty of other moments worthy of our consideration (and thus, adornment with flowers). Making space for flowers on a nightstand or a dining table that's been converted into a home office brings us into the room, into the present moment, and into communion with nature.
Right: Arrange Japanese wisteria branches as you encounter the plant in nature: spiraling about itself and scaling vertiginous heights. Above left: The root-ball of a plant is loosened and enclosed in a mix of soil and peat moss that has been compacted into a ball.
