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@flolangoart

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Stem III

Love-Lies-Bleeding (Amaranthus caudatus)

Native to South America.

Known for its long cascading tassels and deep crimson color.

A symbol of enduring love, remembrance, and resilience.

Its flowing form has inspired artists and gardeners for centuries. by @flolangoart

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3 months ago

Stem II

Allium

Native to the Northern Hemisphere.

Known for its perfectly spherical bloom made of hundreds of tiny star-shaped flowers.

A symbol of unity, resilience, and quiet strength.

Its striking form has made it a favorite in contemporary floral design. by @flolangoart

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3 months ago

Stem I

Banksia

Native to Australia.

Known for surviving fire, drought, and harsh conditions.

Some Banksias release their seeds only after fire. by @flolangoart

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4 months ago

by @flolangoart

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2 days ago

by @flolangoart

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3 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

The Weight of Thread

This process is deeply frustrating.

It takes a kind of patience that goes beyond just “being patient.” I stand for hours, needle in hand, pushing through the canvas, pulling yarn that just won’t cooperate. The thread gets tangled into itself like it has its own plan, looping, knotting, tightening in places I didn’t even touch. And then I have to sit there, sometimes for almost an hour, just trying to untangle it. Slowly. Carefully. Trying not to make it worse. And by the time I finally fix it, I don’t even feel like continuing anymore.

The yarn drags across the back of the canvas, catching on everything, sticking to itself. It gets thick where I need it smooth, loose where I need control. The needle keeps pricking me, over and over. Small, sharp stings that remind me this is not an easy process. It presses into my fingers, slips, pokes me, and leaves that sore feeling that builds up the longer I go. There’s no smooth flow to it. No ease.

Some days I just walk past it.

I look at it and already feel the frustration before even touching it. I know what it’s going to take from me, my time, my focus, my energy, and I don’t always have that to give. So I leave it there. Half done. Waiting.

Other days, I come back anyway.

Even when my mind is somewhere else. Even when my heart isn’t in it. I stand there and start again, threading, pulling, fixing, undoing, redoing. Showing up for something that doesn’t make it easy for me. And then there are small moments where everything just works. The thread moves right. The piece starts to come together. And for a second, I feel why I started.

This piece has taken me a month.

Not because I don’t know what I’m doing, but because of everything it asks from me. Time. Focus. Stillness. Patience. Letting go, then trying again.

This process is not soft.

But it’s real. by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago

by @flolangoart

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6 months ago