We were lucky to catch up with Anna Kishlaly recently and have shared our conversation below.

Anna, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?

As an artist, one of the biggest risks I’ve taken wasn’t about money or a career decision, but the emotional risk of choosing to fully accept and take responsibility for my identity as an artist before I even had actual art to represent. It’s a risk because, in the early stages, you’re essentially staking your sense of self and your future on something that doesn’t yet exist in physical form.

The risk wasn’t just in deciding to call myself an artist—it was in taking full responsibility for the artist within me, despite the fact that my art hadn’t yet materialized. I had to confront my internal tensions and self-doubts: “What if I’m not good enough?” “What if no one ever sees my work?” “How will I justify calling myself an artist without anything to show?” It was almost like living in a constant state of creative tension, holding the responsibility of being an artist while still feeling empty-handed. In those moments, the act of simply claiming the title of ‘artist’ and staying committed to the process felt like an enormous risk because it was taking on the full weight of that responsibility—without the cushion of recognition or validation from the outside world.

I took this risk because I realized that being an artist isn’t just about creating art—it’s about being responsible for the creative energy inside of you. Art isn’t a product; it’s a way of being, a mindset. I understood that if I didn’t embrace this responsibility, I might never create anything at all. There’s a tension in that space, between who you are and what you’re capable of. But I realized that acknowledging this tension is crucial—it’s where creativity is born. If I waited for external validation or for a finished piece to define me as an artist, I would always be waiting. The real risk was stepping into my full creative identity without the safety net of results.

Anna, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

Hi!
My name is Anna, and I am a floral designer in Seattle, WA. I entered the industry five years ago when I left my ‘serious adult’ job as an office manager, fully embracing my creativity and artistic intentions.

I grew up in the fertile land of Odesa, Ukraine, always finding beauty and inspiration in the ever-changing canvas of nature. I remember the vast fields of wildflowers, the serene landscapes, and the rich textures and colors of the seasons—all of which have always been a constant source of calm and harmony. Growing up in the countryside, often on my own, I was deeply drawn to exploring the plants and wildlife around me.

My journey into the industry was a bit torturous, I always knew it was a challenging field to work in and to sell from. There are so many subjective aspects to the perception of beauty in flowers, and I knew it would be hard to work in this field—especially when considering the physical exhaustion of being a florist. Since I was always opinionated and thoughtful about design, I faced challenges when trying to get a job with no experience. Employers typically wanted speed and strong muscles to handle 100-rose bouquets, and I was denied because of this. However, the day I finally committed to taking a professional floral design course at a local studio, the very first employer I had hoped to work with (who had turned me down six months earlier) reached out to say they wanted to hire me. By the time I finished the course, I was already employed at the place I had wanted to work.

I learned a lot at that first studio, and by the time the full-scale war in Ukraine began in February 2022, I was confident in my skills and knowledge. But in the harsh reality of war, no one needed flowers. During that time, I randomly met my childhood neighbor on the street in my city, and we had a brief conversation. She was pleasantly surprised to hear that I had become a professional florist, because, as she said, ‘I was always bringing flower bouquets to my mom, and she never had enough vases and jars for them.’ I don’t remember those moments, but it warms my heart and whispers to me, ‘I’m doing the right thing.’

I moved to the U.S. because of both my relationship and the war in my country. I had to start over, as everything felt different compared to European culture and reality. I worked at a small local plant and flower store, freelanced as a florist, and met many people from whom I learned and with whom I shared knowledge. These last three years have been incredibly unstable in every possible way, except for my dedication to flowers. I am truly grateful for the community and my loved ones who have supported me throughout this journey.

With the support of my community and my immense love for my craft, I established my flower studio, Modern Nature, and have been growing it for a year as of January 2025.

I offer daily flower deliveries, subscriptions, and flowers for intimate gatherings in the Seattle area. In my daily designs, I tend to mimic the current state of nature, providing my customers with a rich botanical experience through a variety of flowers and natural materials in each bouquet. Every creation from Modern Nature is a unique reflection of the seasons, the weather, and the emotions inspired by the changing landscape. I take pride in never repeating designs, ensuring that every order is a distinct and personal piece. My strong commitment to bridging art and nature is what makes my floral designs stand out.

How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?

This is something I’m currently experiencing and reflecting on after a year of working full-time on my own. When I first set out, I had a very clear vision for my business. I was confident that I would focus exclusively on being a retail florist, specializing in flower deliveries and subscription services. The idea of providing beautiful, lasting arrangements that could brighten someone’s day on a regular basis really resonated with me. As an artist, I wanted my creations to have a sense of permanence — I didn’t want them to be something that only existed for a fleeting moment or just for a single evening. I envisioned my flowers bringing joy and a smile to someone every day of the week, with long vase life, giving my customers the ability to enjoy their bouquets for as long as possible.

However, as I began reviewing my orders and inquiries over time, I noticed a shift in what people were asking for. Despite my initial focus on daily deliveries and subscriptions, the majority of inquiries were actually for event flowers rather than regular floral services. Even when I recommended other florists who specialized in event arrangements and services, my customers would still request specifically for my style and the vibe that I brought to my work.

After much reflection, I began to recognize that the overwhelming majority of event flower inquiries, rather than daily deliveries and subscriptions, were influenced by a variety of factors. Back in the culture and country I’m from, buying flowers on a daily basis was a more common practice, so I had initially envisioned my business focusing on providing that daily experience. However, I now realize that this vision was shaped by a cultural distortion, as the demand for daily flowers simply isn’t as prevalent here. Additionally, in the current economic climate, daily flower deliveries and subscriptions have become somewhat of a luxury experience — something that many people may not prioritize as much due to financial constraints or changing consumer habits.

This shift in demand for event florals has presented an unexpected but valuable opportunity for me to rethink and evolve my business model. While I still strongly believe in the value of daily flower deliveries and subscriptions, I am beginning to embrace the reality that my business is growing in unexpected directions. Right now, I’m focused on restructuring key areas of my business, including sourcing new partners and suppliers who align with the vision I’m building. I’m also working on revamping my website and updating my marketing plan to reflect this shift. It’s an exciting process, but it also requires a lot of thought, strategy, and learning along the way.

I’m also viewing this pivot as a chance to get to know my customers on a deeper level, not just by delivering beautiful flowers, but by being part of the most sacred and fulfilling moments of their lives. Whether it’s a wedding, a birthday party, or a corporate celebration, it’s an opportunity for me to get to know my clients and learn new ways of being useful and present for them.

Ultimately, this journey is still in progress, and I know there will be many more adjustments and challenges ahead. But I’m excited for what’s to come and grateful for the opportunity to grow and adapt. It’s a reminder that business, like life, doesn’t always follow a straight path, and sometimes the best things happen when we embrace change and step into new possibilities.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

This question really resonates with me, especially considering the stage of my life I’m currently at. Over the years, I’ve come to understand that the creative journey is one that is deeply personal and often misunderstood, particularly by those who might not identify as creatives themselves. It’s a journey filled with constant self-reflection, exploration, and expression. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always understood by others. Sometimes, non-creatives simply don’t know how to relate to what it means to live a life driven by passion and creativity.

There will always be people who won’t understand you, no matter what. And that’s okay. Non-creative people (who may not even realize that they have creativity within them, or who may not express it in obvious ways) might struggle to understand the way you live, the way your mind works, and the way you feel the need to show up for your craft. It’s more than just a job or a hobby—it’s a lifestyle. The tension to continuously create, to show up and produce, to flourish and dive deep into your thoughts and experiences in order to express something meaningful, is not something everyone will be able to comprehend. In fact, this lack of understanding might be the very reason they don’t express themselves creatively. They may simply not feel the need, and this is their choice.

Creatives are often very opinionated, and sometimes this can lead to difficult situations. You might find yourself in environments where you just can’t seem to align with others—whether in a professional or personal setting. Your values, aims, and visions might not match, and that can be difficult to navigate. But that’s okay, too. I think it’s perfectly natural when you know who you are and what you stand for. We are all built from different materials, shaped by our unique life experiences, and the way we see and interpret the world can vary widely. The key is accepting that not everyone will understand you, and not everyone needs to.

Personally, I’m still learning how to deal with these differences on a daily basis. Moving to the U.S. from another part of the world has added a layer of complexity to this process. Coming from a place where there was less cultural and social differentiation, I was used to a certain level of homogeneity. But here, in the U.S., the diversity of experiences, perspectives, and values is much more pronounced, which can be both exciting and overwhelming. The way people think about creativity, art, and expression varies greatly from one person to the next, and sometimes that can make it challenging to find common ground.

I’ve found that building a community of creatives who share similar values is one of the most important things you can do for your growth. Surrounding yourself with like-minded people who understand your drive, your passions, and your commitment to your craft can be incredibly empowering. I have to admit, after making the right friendships, my business began to grow and improve more quickly. Not to mention, my mental state became clearer and more grounded. Having people around you who truly get it—who understand the highs and lows of the creative journey—is invaluable. It provides a sense of reassurance that you’re not alone, and that there are others out there who share the same vision and challenges.

Creativity, by its very nature, touches many different aspects of your life. It becomes intertwined with your emotions, your relationships, and your worldview. It is not something you can easily separate from who you are. As a creative, you’ll find that your work often reflects your personal experiences and emotions, and that can be both fulfilling and vulnerable. But this is the beauty of creativity—it allows you to share pieces of your soul with the world. And when you surround yourself with people who understand this, who appreciate the depth of your work and your journey, it creates a bond that is unlike any other.

You’ll likely find that you are seen, appreciated, and supported by people who are going through similar joys and sorrows in their own lives. Creative communities offer a unique space where mutual respect, understanding, and shared passion thrive. These people, whether they work in the same creative field or not, will understand the struggles, the risks, and the rewards that come with putting yourself out there. They’ll celebrate your successes with you, and they’ll be there to lift you up during the tough times.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://modernnature.space
• Instagram: modernnature.space

Image Credits

Irina Guseva