Conversations in Bloom: An Interview with Hamish Powell
In the world of contemporary floristry, few artists blend nature, poetry, and avant-garde design as seamlessly as Hamish Powell. Known for his editorial work with Vogue and collaborations with brands like Loewe, Powell approaches floral design as an evolving art form—one that extends far beyond traditional arrangements. His new studio, housed in an unexpected former falafel shop, reflects his unconventional creative ethos: a space where flowers, words, and artistic exploration coexist.
For Powell, floristry is more than ephemeral beauty; it’s a language, a storytelling device, and a means of pushing artistic boundaries. From his fascination with floriography—the Victorian language of flowers—to his dream of merging poetry with floral arrangements, his work embodies a deeply personal and innovative approach to design. Constantly experimenting, he balances the demands of high-profile brand collaborations with his own artistic integrity, using limitations as a springboard for creativity.
As floristry becomes increasingly central to the worlds of fashion and luxury, Powell remains at the forefront, redefining what flowers can be. Whether he’s crafting sculptural installations inspired by thrift store finds or contemplating the challenge of arranging flowers in zero gravity, his vision is boundless. Through his work, he invites us to look closer, to feel deeper, and to see flowers not just as decorative elements, but as transformative works of art.
On Hamish's Studio & Creative Vision
DS: Your new studio space has an interesting past as a falafel shop — how has this influenced the way you’re shaping it? Are you preserving elements from its history?
HP: Honestly, so far it has only felt like a detriment hah! There’s a lot of undoing that needs to be done, and a lot of deodorising. For example, there were so many patterned floor tiles, wallpapers and paint colours, it makes taking pictures of a flower arrangement very tricky! Actually, there has been an unexpected inspiration, in the kitchen segment of the falafel shop, the walls are stainless steel sheets. These have been cool to use as backdrops for pictures, all my of tables and hardware are stainless steel already – feels like I’m in a laboratory.
What do you want people to feel when they step into your studio for the first time?
Curiosity. I don’t want people to walk past and go ‘oh, a new florist on the block’. I want people to wonder what the hell goes on in there, is it a flower shop? Is it an art studio? Is it someone’s weird living room? I want the space to become whatever someone feels it is.
Floristry is often seen as ephemeral, but a studio is something more permanent. How do you see this space evolving over time?
You know, I’m already thinking ahead to the future when I inevitably outgrow this space, which might be a powerful thing, or a downfall. At first, the studio will be my private atelier. The magic workshop where special things are born. Maybe one day I might open it to the public as a flower shop, and perhaps when the studio moves into a larger space to create the bigger and bigger projects we’re getting, I feel like I might turn the studio into a concept coffee shop—something beautiful and hardly functional. But for now, its exciting to have a home, a space where each pollen stain on a white wall, or floor dent from a heavy branch, acts as a reminder that this is my playground.
Will your studio be purely a workspace, or do you envision it becoming a hub for collaboration, workshops, or even performance?
Indeed, that’s another thought I have had for the space, creating a beautify canvas to invite others within. It’s in a great spot, and has the potential to be a fantastic body for the soul of a brand collaboration or workshop. Let me not get ahead of myself.
On Poetry and the Intersection of Words and Flowers
Poetry and floristry both play with rhythm, form, and emotion — have you ever considered a project that blends the two?
I have dreamt of combining the two forever. In one way, I suppose I am aways blending them. Many of my arrangements are inspired by poetic feelings, and a lot of my poetic feelings are inspired by my flowers.
I have a huge archive of things I have written and not shared, for the hope that their sanctity could be properly represented in a publication. Let’s just say I can’t say any more than that.
If you could translate one of your poems into a floral arrangement, what would it look like?
The interesting thing about both flowers and poetry is their remarkable subjectivity. It’s like there are almost two layers of decryption in this translation, firstly, how do I feel when I read this poem, and what flowers to I interpret to represent this feeling? Every poem would have a different translation. That’s like asking a painter to depict the sky. Well… Is it a sunny day? Is it stormy? What about the sunset, are there birds, is it nighttime? I could never answer your question until I’ve made the arrangement already!
Do words ever come to you while you’re working with flowers, or do the two creative processes feel completely separate?
I think the process for both is very similar to me. It’s rare that I have an idea and then execute it, it’s definitely a more intuitive process than that. Each placement of a stem in an arrangement dictates the next stem’s position. It’s the same with writing, each sentence is inspired by that which comes before it.
Have you ever been tempted to include written elements — fragments of poetry, hidden messages — within your floral designs?
Yes, but in a bit more of an enigmatic way. In the Victorian era, there was floriography – a language of flowers, where each variety carried a specific meaning. Lovers would send each other whole confessions just in the form of a bouquet. For the past year or so I have been slowly researching this language of flowers, and I’m waiting for a special occasion to write a poem, but with flowers.
You’re often creating for brands with strong visual identities — how do you balance your artistic voice with their creative direction?
I have always viewed constraints as powerful skill-builders. You’re right, I am always conscious of maintaining my style, or image, while fitting to the guidelines (because they always have them) of brands. I really think that having to navigate a challenge creates novel though processes and techniques which I might not have otherwise realised if I had carte blanche.
With a schedule that involves 3am flower market visits and international talks, how do you stay inspired and avoid creative burnout?
You know this is something I am a bit scared of; I have such a hunger for expression that I say yes to everything, I’m always looking for the next big project, and really, there comes a limit mentally. I don’t think I’ve come close to a creative burnout yet, in fact I still feel like my brain could explode at any given time with all the ideas flying about up there, but a physical burnout is very probable. I’m aware of it, but I’m certainly not cautious enough about it. I guess I was hungry for so long, I really embrace having such a full plate.
What’s the strangest or most unexpected source of inspiration you’ve drawn from for a floral design?
A couple of month ago was teaching a masterclass in Madrid, and together as a group we created a sculpture out of gerberas. I was trying to think of some interesting forms to reference for the shape, and this happened to come from a small corner of a thrift store while in Paris the week before. Right in the back of this little thrift store in an alleyway, was the gentle glow of an orange lava lamp. Above it was a funny little painting of a balloon dog. Both visual stimuli crashed together to form a floral sculpture, 7 days and a couple of flights later.
Do you ever feel pressure to ‘outdo’ yourself with every new project, or do you see beauty in restraint and simplicity?
I totally do see beauty in restraint and simplicity. A lot of my early career in flowers was spent studying ikebana, and I still have lessons to this day. Because of this, and my tight bind to the ethos that comes with ikebana, I will always worship the silhouette of a single stem. However, I think even with this, I still have the desire to improve every time.
Whether a huge hanging installation for fashion week, or a tiny offering of Sunday morning stems on my coffee table, I am always always always trying to be better than before. Certainly a blessing, certainly a curse. Maybe I’ll slow down when I leave my 20s.
How long does the process of making an arrangement usually take from idea to a physical piece? What is the timeline you are usually given by companies to create?
I would say that the average timeline that I get from brands to ideate florals for an event is probably about a week. I mostly work with fashion brands, so it’s a very fast moving world, everything is getting signed off at the last minute, not just the flowers. A lot of the times, flowers are not prioritised as a main experience at events, what I mean by that is that they are an added luxury. 'See how much budget is left at the end of the event production and give that to the florists'. That’s why my lead times are particularly short. For other events, that are more floral-centric, such as Chelsea in Bloom, then I am brought into the fold right from the get-go, and planning can begin as early as December.
On Business & the Future of Floristry
The fashion and luxury industries are increasingly turning to floristry as part of their storytelling—why do you think flowers have become so integral to these worlds?
Flowers are really having a renaissance, right! I remember walking down bond street last summer and seeing 8 stores in a row with window dressing that incorporated florals as a motif. That’s crazy! I mean, flowers have always been one of the key muses to artists throughout history. It’s impossible not to be inspired by their remarkable forms and colours, but I suppose their peak and trough of relevancy is a reflection of society. I think we’re currently leaning more towards florals because the world feels a little dark at the moment. We’re driven the most to beauty when things feel their ugliest.
Beyond traditional floral arrangements, do you see floristry expanding into other creative sectors, such as set design, product design, or even digital spaces?
It already has! My favourite projects tend to be set design jobs – the temporariness of both flowers and set design work together, you don’t feel guilty about making something huge that only lasts a day, that’s how that world works.
I think floristry for digital spaces is an interesting space, on one hand AI is creating amazing visuals for no cost, but on the other hand, having real floral visuals has become a sign of luxury so brands are seeking it out almost in a reactionary way.
Would you ever consider offering a more personalised floral service—perhaps tied to storytelling, poetry, or bespoke experiences?
I feel like this is the direction the riptide is carrying me, joyfully. Over the almost decade that I have been involved with flowers, I have found teaching to be the most rewarding activity. When you create a product with your creativity, it is almost like you are giving away parts of yourself every time something leaves the studio. But when I teach, it feels like it gets given back to me tenfold. This kind of humanity – intimacy – is really what it’s all about. So, I think that’ll be where I end up one day.
Your work already blends floristry with art and fashion—could you see yourself collaborating outside of these worlds, perhaps with a chef, or a musician?
Watch this space, that’s all I’m saying...
On the Bigger Picture
If you could create a floral installation anywhere in the world, with no limitations, where would it be and why?
I want to make a flower arrangement in space. Okay, I know that’s not in our world, but that’s the point, I feel like I could do anything in the world – space feels like a bit more of a challenge haha. A lot of my work plays with balance, I think creating in zero gravity would be an astronomically inspiring experience. Okay, maybe that one will be hard to achieve, a more humble dream that’s definitely more achievable would be creating something in a sunflower field in Provence. The sunflower was my first ever favourite flower, imagine a giant sculpture of huge sunflowers in the middle of a sunflower field at sunset. What a childhood dream.
If someone who had never paid attention to flowers before walked into one of your installations, what would you want them to take away from it?
That these things exist in the first place. Not in the sense that, 'oh yeah flowers, forgot about those', but more ‘holy sh*t this crazy thing with all its psychedelic patterns and zany colours just grew from some soil, water and light?’.
I am so lucky to be surrounded by flowers every day, but I continue to have my mind blown every day. When you think about a flower, like when you really think about a flower, it’s transcendent. This shade of electric blue, this perfect symmetry, this fuzzy texture. How LUCKY we are to share an existence with them.
When you look back in 10 years, what do you hope will define your creative legacy?
That it was all for joy. I am so grateful to have found a path in life that is not only powered by my joy but creates it too. A self-sufficient cycle of splendour. The next ten years will be a rollercoaster, I’m sure, so why not put my hands in the air and scream.
Comments