Writing hasn't always been my strength, which may be a surprise to some of you. Throughout the course of last year, my work has been published in wedding, fashion and art magazines. Starting the year fresh again, I wanted to create poetically and so I masked my words into the crevices of paper with paper flowers. When there is an event, I always want to pursue it individually; challenging myself with time. Punctuality always came late to me but that never allowed a dent into my creativity. As promised, here is my written tutorial on hand made paper flowers.
For the Must Be Kismet Wedding Show, I wanted to create paper flowers. Not your average paper flowers that every decorator creates (frames, arches and flushed walls). I wanted to give life to my booth as being a Henna vendor many associate mehndi colours with deeply saturated moroccan stones and South Asia's vast variety of coloured spices.
I always want my Brides to feel breath taking and beautiful. These flowers had to speak by their weight and size. So I found my way researching paper stores the first week of January and found an intimate space, decorated in all its charm, The Paper Place.
The nectar - twirl & pull
Once you've collected all the bundles together, now you can glue them using your hot glue gun. Placing them equally around the rod (plastic wrap roll). Your nectar should now look like the above image on your right. This tutorial took me three days to perfect and I'm still in awe of how I'm losing site of the cuts I needed to make for their leaves. With January being mental health awareness month, it's vital that we all take a breather and slow down. When creating something so heartfelt, we should value the time that it takes us to create. If it makes you feel good, there should not be a doubt in your feeling. Allow your hands to communicate through your creations. You'd be surprised how many individuals I had smiling
The BLOOM - cut, twirl & pull
For additional petals and bloom, cut paper in 1 m length and fold 2 xs vertically. You can either separate the petals in pairs (image 2 above) or pinch strip of petals in a circular motion around the 18" circle. For the first and second round of petals, don't forget to push them upwards and stretch each petal to create its fullest volume. To maintain it's shape, you can add some hot glue on the petal under and pinch with your fingers until dry. Do you remember the 18" card stock disk? Take a round of petals and pinch them while gluing them around the exterior circle. Glue this round under the large flower to create fullness. You should have 4 rounds of petals with a heavy nectar now. As the flower grows you are then ready for more individual petals and leaves.
I hope you all enjoyed this short and sweet written tutorial of my beautiful paper peonies! Here are some photos of what these beauties looked like at the Must Be Kismet Wedding Show! I now rent these out and am taking orders from decorators for your special day! Don't be shy and send your inquiries to my email: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Photography: Monika Mistry
COME into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, 5
And the musk of the rose is blown.
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky, 10
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.
All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon;
All night has the casement jessamine stirr’d 15
To the dancers dancing in tune;
Till silence fell with the waking bird,
And a hush with the setting moon.
I said to the lily, “There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay. 20
When will the dancers leave her alone?
She is weary of dance and play.”
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone 25
The last wheel echoes away.
I said to the rose, “The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
For one that will never be thine? 30
But mine, but mine,” I sware to the rose,
“For ever and ever, mine.”
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clash’d in the hall:
And long by the garden lake I stood, 35
For I heard your rivulet fall
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
Our wood, that is dearer than all;
From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
That whenever a March-wind sighs 40
He sets the jewel-print of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes,
To the woody hollows in which we meet
And the valleys of Paradise.
The slender acacia would not shake 45
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
As the pimpernel doz’d on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me; 50
The lilies and roses were all awake,
They sigh’d for the dawn and thee.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done,
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, 55
Queen lily and rose in one;
Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
To the flowers, and be their sun.
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate. 60
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, “She is near, she is near;”
And the white rose weeps, “She is late;”
The larkspur listens, “I hear, I hear;” 65
And the lily whispers, “I wait.”
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed; 70
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
Define - Mithu: a woman of overwhelming intelligence and a heart filled with infinite delight. A character that devours the light and emits all of it within the darkest of nights to keep her loved ones away from hesitating surprises.
Sitting with her on the morning of July 18th, the drapes on the windows casted romantic shadows on the tapestry and mahogany table which I lay down my cones on. I usually pack light but there was something weighing over my shoulders. A process that I had been prone to since I was a mere 11 years old, was all buried. I could not bare witness to this feeling so I let myself work with the idea of Bridal outside it's regular conventional design compositions. Strange though, I had the design right infront of me but I could not figure out where to begin. I was the Artist, 'I AM THE ARTIST.' How could I have possibly let my mind go idle in the start of the appointment? This beautiful bride became a treasure as she filled her morning henna appointment with laughter and an unbearable twitch. As she spoke, I drew and as I drew she blossomed as a new Bride. We worked around a couple sets of arm rubs and intimate finger abrasion. A set of arms (front and back) till her elbow's very curves and feet (5" above her ankles) I versed her favourite poet's verses; Tennyson.
Her diary from start to finish was created with her favourite verses from the famous poet Alfred Tennyson. The beautiful photos by Monika Mistry instil each and every memory from that blessed day. Her greatest companion, Tigger joined in on the action as he enjoyed the scent of lavender. We watched the lines dance on her arms as she floated above the earth with her heart locked in a chest adorned in emeralds and delight. Her grandmother came to us to see her transform into a Bride. Trinkets from the family adorned her neck and fingers. An arrangement of gifts from her mother and the voices of beloved family and friends joined us later in the evening. A woman is unaware of the changes that once were custom or known.
What happens to a Bride who is not familiar with a custom?
Who does a Bride turn to when she is alone?
What colour does she wear during her wedding?
Does she love the conventional wedding?
Who makes the rules?
Speaking to Mithu throughout her henna diary days as well as during her diary event, we had several discussions on customization and where Brides feel their true selves are reinstated. A Bride becomes a woman in her own element while having support. An avocado is at its ripest when it is the happiest of green, a soft firm hold around an avocado provides this delicious vegetable interest to uncover it's juicy and highly nutritious valuable personality; it's interior beauty. Mithu wished for an intimate and private affair because she was used to this element, she is my perfect avocado. Her choice of Mani Jassal was a suitable one for her transitional period. Being adorned as a Bride, you wish to be at ease and fall into a nurturing state of sheer beauty. She gracefully presented herself while being enhanced by Rav B Beauty Concepts. Her flowers in her hair and romantic updo defined her soft hues and natural tan.
For many of us who choose to contrast heavily in our wedding's desires, we would rather invest in feeling than show and tell. Mithu is that Bride. She wanted to feel the warmth of her friends and so she invited her radiant mother to her consultation. A friend, a best friend, a companion for life is your mother. Mithu's mother was a pleasure to meet and talk to about her daughter's favourite moments. They are a compelling duo. When the consultation had completed, I had the pleasure of creating a beautiful rendering for her while the elements danced and spread throughout her palms.
Embedding her palms
In emerging crystal banks
Gentle strokes along her limbs
Along crevices that bloomed once again
She stood humbly as florals drifted along her skin
Give birth to a being rendered in light
She bares herself
Reigning in crystals delight
Air, water, white
Written by Sarah Hussain
Photography by Melissa Matheson
Midnight to living at 29
By Sarah Hussain
As I converse with my inner light today, I hadn't the idea of the pain she had been afraid to admit. It wasn't an ordinary form of frustration but a transition that she was asked to submit herself to. She needed a calling but what she didn't know was that her soul was the one calling out to her. It was as if an alarm was going off constantly but being silenced every time it tried to wake her up. Her slumber was nonexistent to the people around her, her voice would vibrate off her surroundings and then come back to her. Not one individual could hear her speak because they didn't care, they would intoxicate her rise with sultry smog and diffuse her glow with their own anxiety. Then one night, she was confronted by a task that was pending and she thought, "if I combine healthy choices with productivity maybe this will finally complete itself." She took back a step and reminded herself that the work needed to be done by her. Herself. Loving herself.
No one can make you feel good about yourself better than yourself.
29 - to each and every being in your life craves your energy. Note to self, learn to be selfish for yourself. Everything is temporary.
Awakened state - 2017
Stylist/Henna/Direction: SarahHussain (@breathofhenna). www.breathofhenna.com
MUA: JenelleForde (@jenelleforde). www.jenelleforde.com
HairStylist: ChristinaGomes (@christina_gomes). www.suprememobileandspa.com
Photographer: MelissaMatheson (@melmath)
Wardrobe: MonaLisaBridal (@mona_lisa_bridal_gallery)
HairAccessories: IlienaGeorge (@ilieanageorge). www.ilieanageorge.com
Model: JennaBorisevich. www.peggilepage.com/models/jenna/
Pulling away the layers of the embellished fittings from around under my bust. I couldn't breathe. As soon as I exhaled my head leaned backwards to straighten my spine. I could not fathom the weight. I felt as though, heaven's greatest had forgotten to take His mighty hand off the crown of my skull. My surroundings were muted by the silence of colours escalading through the corners of my eyes as when the sun's rays would highlight the cerulean waters of the ocean; the veil dropped. I fixed the trinklets hooked onto my bangles and ran a sliver of skin down the side of the embroidered bands to the crevice of my breasts. My fingers poised upwards as my gaze lowered, and I started to walk.
The circulation in my waist was concealed and the fluidity of my hips began to sway along the weight of my skirt as I caught a glimpse of her. She looked gently and recited, 'chasm-e-badoor' (to ward off the evil eye). I acknowledged her graciously with a smirk. Alas my neck, which had no meaning; as though it never existed, began to let go of its poise. Gravity showed no mercy as I sauntered towards my reigning throne.
O' Eyes of despair why are you lurking through the windows of my soul.
This is my awakening and I have wished for this ever so dearly.
The details were ideally a dream, a miraculous world woven of the finest silks and the warmth of the lavender incense had the room glowing. I could not see the aisles of leisure and freedom.
I was raised on the mountains where the birds nurtured me with freedom and my relentless behavior gave heed to the winds of the storm. I never even tied my hair. My locks would surround my body as a void of protection and wisdom; virtuous.
My veil, the veil you have so well defined as my best also came with a world that you never did tell me as I slept. A world of perplexed thinkers, a surrounding of voices in constant turmoil; one where I would never find peace. Truth is that, you; she, her, you never made it clear or found a reason to exist within the turmoil. You simply lived. Did you?
You're probably reading this entry thinking about the stereotypes behind women who are of culture, of belonging to a realm of traditional cultivated thoughts. Minorities? No. We all exist in the world of discomposed thinkers and segregating activists - within our own homes. I love my husband, I truly do but to acknowledge him as my complete that isn't one-hundred percent true. I hasten my ordinary every day without a doubt, my sleep is no longer filled with intrinsic adventures. It is no longer my own.
Creatures that blossomed from an unearthly
Incomparable union of sacred rituals and blessings.
Bred in silk-spun wombs
Their spines inhaled the nectar
They bathed in the syrup of that very nectar
Where branches of saffron blended
Together with the milk of almonds
As the nelumbo nucifera carried them afloat;
The Indian lotus.
They were raised as warriors
Their hands soft as the belly of a hummingbird.
They were voices
Without pain or cries.
There was once a time
When all was countless
Spirited and free.
Thankfully there is still a mother,
I wish to be.
As I raise my head, the floral garlands on my wrists revive the glow overlooking my view. The glow that one believes to exist when in union with harmony. It was him all along. My grasp is liberated to unfold this very letter that was embedded in my soul. I had been immersed in the depth of his presence, as he held my hand, he looked into my eyes and his smile opens up another portal. I now recall those dreams that you so generously gifted me as a child, "O' love of mine, your being is to be with the very best. The all vital state of your existence is when you know yourself and he accepts you true."
Stepping on the stage to be crowned, as his wife, with him, a man - his name was announced. This was your letter and my day is today. Your recitings before I left home were to protect but to also instill the very teachings you were taught. The veil is of a prevailing state. Laughter of a blooming household; a shelter for the traveler, a mirage of passage through cultural narratives. I was the center of my home. The veil was my power and I wore it as my crown. A veil is worn by a Bride on her wedding day, an entitlement not every woman can carry forth.
She is a warrior and life is her battle.
Credits for the work seen in the highlighted editorial within this written response:
Thank you Genna of Loft 404 for allowing me to bring my verses to life.
An excerpt from a letter I wrote:
"I humbly accept this union of tranquil bliss and flourishing friendship, devotion and sentiment. This, now, here is infinite as I have waited for this time of the awakened state. I am aware of your delightedness and as I too am delighted. We are aware of the challenges that will grace us with their hindering ventures. But, you and I both know there is nothing that we have not advanced through. We are OK. My friendship will coexist with my love for you as you are what defines my state of being a woman. I hope you can say the same or at least that this moment acknowledges our harmony together. You bring challenging discourse to our times of union as do I and we are still here. We all possess baggage and we need a state of revival - when I met you, you revived me. You shower me with endless opportunity and you are aware of what whirl winds I attain. Let me be open to you, I will guide you and astonish you with remarks but to cherish you as heaven's greatest gift is to not say the least. You are that presence I had seeked for; a longing I had wondered about since the first marriage I attended. I was ecstatic about the trinkets of embellishments and what love was. The veil, if it may weigh heavy, we will pull through. Never to let go of your hand in times of distraught. You are what defines great men and I have been so very privileged to have you in my life."
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