Picking Flowers With Renko Floral

Florist Ren MacDonald-Balasia on flowers, foraging and Hawaii’s lush inspirations.

Portrait via @fluxhawaii; all other images courtesy of @renkofloral

In this second edition of “Picking Flowers,” we delve into the colorful world of Ren MacDonald-Balasia, the creative mind behind Renko, a floral atelier known for its vibrant, unconventional designs, which evoke the dynamic beauty of underwater gardens. “The arrangements I make are indulgent, tangled organisms,” Ren muses, “much like a coral reef teeming with technicolor fish.” Her work transcends traditional floral boundaries, bursting with an edible cornucopia of rambutans, dragonfruit, plantains and Thai eggplants, woven among passionflower vines and striking hibiscuses with gold-edged petals and speckled centers. 

For Ren, this intricate blending of elements not only highlights the visual and sensory richness of her creations but also symbolizes a celebration of life’s fleeting wonders. In the conversation that follows, Ren discusses her earliest encounters with the plant world, how the landscapes of Hawaii and Los Angeles inspire her distinctive style and her favorite foraging find.

What are your earliest memories of plants? 
I don’t know if it's a good thing or not, but I inherited my father’s similar capability to remember things as early as infancy. Living surrounded by the jungle in the back of a valley in Honolulu, plants were around me constantly. I remember the sounds of the ironwood trees howling in the wind while I laid in my crib and staring at them moving back and forth. I was usually alone with a forced bedtime before the sun went down, so it was just the trees and me. That was the start of our lifelong relationship. I still see them and stare at them in our silent language when I go home. 

How did you find yourself drawn into the art of arranging flowers?
I think it was a rebellion in a way. I went to school to be a writer and I felt boxed in and misunderstood often. Arranging gave me the ability to write in a different way.

What do you look to for inspiration? 
I look back to where I am from, Oahu, for inspiration. I was always collecting — catching poisonous tree frogs in rainy Manoa Valley, hunting for shells at Makapuu Beach, stashing my grandmother's collection of weird notes and memorabilia from the 60s and 70s in my room. She was the first female Japanese-American journalist. I would ogle her things: A photo of her leaning in stilettos in the sand interviewing Humphrey Bogart; the oxford shoes she wore when she marched to Selma with MLK; her very strange collection of ceramic plates she drew nudes on during her "alternative" period. All these emit a feeling of wonder for me. I try to recreate that in an unspeakable way every time I make something. 

Could you share a bit about your foraging experiences in Hawaii? What draws you to forage, what treasures are you searching for, and what has been your most memorable discovery?
Foraging in Hawaii is a religious experience. You find something you’ve never seen before every time, and more often meet someone who has a story to tell you about what you're foraging for or is passing by and wants to impart some message to you. I forage because of the story. The experience it took to acquire the materials always increases the importance of the materials to me. People have seen me foraging and invited me into their homes and gardens, told me ways to cook the plant, shown me where they are growing illegal plants, and have also yelled at me. And that, in turn, all informs what I make. 

“My most memorable find was a red stinkhorn fungus. It had been trampled so it was only half of it, but the only thing I can compare it to is the meat of a lobster claw in color and consistency. And it smells absolutely horrid. So amazing.”

Your work is infused with the lushness of Hawaii, but how do you weave Los Angeles into your creations?
Los Angeles is definitely a big influence on me, since I have lived here longer than I lived in Hawaii. Foraging doesn’t have a boundary, so the same aspects of my foraging apply to L.A. as well. The landscape of L.A. is so vast and contrasting — dry and full of trash, lush mountains of mist and beautiful beaches, cozy hills covered in yellow mustard flowers. In 45 minutes you are still in the same city but a different world. I think my work speaks to L.A. in that way, pairing opposite materials together that seem contradictory but the juxtaposition is why it works. 

Which flowers, plants or fruits are speaking to you this summer?
The ones I haven’t seen yet. I’m always searching for something new or something probably right under my nose, just waiting for me to open my eyes to it.

How do you hope people feel about your work?
I hope people see my work and realize they are alive and they are here on this planet and our existence is an absolute fucking miracle. Big ask, I suppose! I guess I feel that way anytime I interact with the natural world, and I hope to share that feeling with others.

If you enjoyed this post, here are a few ways you can support my work:

• Step into the world of the Passionflower, where striking beauty and symbolism intertwine.

• Take a surreal, plant-filled journey into Quetzalcoatl’s Nest. 

• Tap the ♥️ button at the bottom of this post.