Learning ikebana, the Japanese art of floral arrangement, on Long Island

Two lavender-colored alliums, flowers that resemble giant dandelions, rose above a half-moon vessel as Toyomi Sobue studied how long to leave the stem of a third flower.

She stuck the stalk in a bowl of water before cutting it under water. One must help a plant survive longer by letting it take its final sip.

Sobue was silent. She prefers not speaking while working on a floral design. She must focus on height, angles, a flower’s best “face,” its juxtaposition with the other flora and its connection to the vase or container.

And most important, her arrangement must be greater than the sum of its parts. It must evoke something. Perhaps a Zen vibe. Deep thoughts. Symbols of the heavens, earth and sea.

“I cut the flower’s life and make it art,” Sobue said from a classroom in Roslyn Heights. “But I always feel a little bit sorry for them. I always have to think how more beautiful I can show them. . . . I have to use the flower’s life for something better.”

This is ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arrangement, and Sobue is the founder of the nonprofit Long Island Japanese Culture Center in Roslyn Heights, where she teaches the “way of the flowers.”

One might say Sobue embodies the principles of ikebana — individualism, a respect for life and a search for the best face forward.

She left Japan for New York City after college and worked as a wedding dress designer before opening the Japan Culture Center and exposing Long Islanders to kimonos, tea ceremonies and crafts such as mizuhiki, knot tying with paper cords to create decorative objects that symbolize unbreakable bonds.

“For me, ikebana is deeply connected to life itself, to human relationships, learning and personal values,” said Sobue, a Nassau resident and 40-year practitioner of the art.

WAY OF THE FLOWERS

On a recent Wednesday, the three students in the ikebana class oohed over the flowers Sobue had bought early that morning at the famed New York flower district on 28th Street in Manhattan.

Students perused their options: lavender chrysanthemums, lavender alliums, spindly willow branches, eucalyptus leaves, velvety Dusty Miller leaves, sprigs of tiny, purple blossoms called Limonium Beltlaard and two-toned leaves.

Students focused on the sogetsu style of floral arrangement, one of the major ikebana styles. Sobue said it has fewer rules than other styles of ikebana and is less rigid, allowing for various types of materials and number of flowers to be used.

The students’ assignments were based on their years of learning. For example, one student had to practice sticking her flowers at an 85 degree angle onto a kenzan, or pin frog, a metal base covered in needles that anchor flowers and leaves.

“You have the same flowers, but our designs are completely different,” said student Linda Berman, a retired psychologist from Glen Cove.

One of Japan’s classic, centuries-old art forms, ikebana means “making flowers come alive.” Some call it kado, or the “way of the flowers,” a term that emphasizes the mindfulness aspect of flower arranging.

“It’s just like painting with flowers,” said student Marion Flomenhaft, 65, a retired college administrator from Malverne.

Its core principles contrast sharply with the Western norm of many flowers bunched to form a visually balanced bouquet. The Japanese style prizes three key elements — asymmetry to mimic the varied growth found in nature; minimalism, in which empty space is a design component; and symbolism, including of life and death, with, perhaps, a dying leaf.

‘LESS IS MORE’

Sobue tells the story of Sen no Rikyu, a famous 16th century tea master who changed the course of ikebana. It was an era when a samurai’s ikebana was thought to reflect his power, so it would be gigantic, such as an entire pine tree.

As the story goes, Rikyu put one fresh flower from the yard into a small container for his tea ceremony with a warlord. Surprised, the samurai asked, “Only one flower?” Rikyu responded, “It’s beautiful enough to show alone.”

“Sometimes less is more,” Flomenhaft said. “When I go to somebody’s house and they have the flowers stuck in a vase, it drives me crazy.”

Students see Sobue not as a purist on rules but as a kind teacher who makes suggestions instead of telling them they are wrong, students said.

“Toyomi is very mellow,” said pupil Laura Greenblatt, 76, a retired social worker from Great Neck. “I would describe myself as an extremely slow learner, and she has infinite patience.”

HER INTEREST BLOOMED

Growing up in Nagoya, one of Japan’s largest cities, ikebana was just a hobby to Toyomi.

Her family was well off, but like many Japanese homes, theirs was small, so the floral arrangement consisted of small containers on the walls.

It was in college that her ikebana interest bloomed. At Kinjo Gakuin University, a women’s school in Nagoya, she studied what was called home economics, which covered food science, hygiene, psychology from early childhood through adulthood, nursing, cooking, sewing and Japanese arts.

One day in the ikebana class, the teacher changed Sobue’s floral composition with a small touch. “It was totally different,” Sobue recalled. “That made me say, ‘Wow, what did she do?’ After that, I loved ikebana.”

PATH TO CULTURE CENTER

Yearning to create beautiful things, Sobue said she became a fashion designer for a custom, women’s clothing company in Japan.

Her employer dispatched her to New York City in 1989 to determine if they could branch out here, and while searching for fabric suppliers and office locations, Sobue saw women as bosses, living in a less rigid society.

“I was deeply impressed,” she said. “I decided at the time, I need to come here. I need to work here.”

Even though she returned to Japan as an economic downturn dashed the design firm’s expansion plans, she moved to New York in 1991, against her father’s traditional beliefs for a woman. She worked at a garment factory for a year, then found a job as a wedding dress designer before opening her own business, Queen of Glory, specializing in wedding dresses for petite women.

Sobue sewed her last bridal gown the day after her son was born, quitting her dress career to care for him because he had health issues.

Then, when her children were thriving, she wanted Japanese calligraphy for them and ikebana classes for herself.

So in 2007, she launched the culture center in Roslyn, where she rented rooms in a community center to hold classes.

Sobue said it was hard to raise money to keep the operations going in the early years.

Due to the stress, she believes, she developed fibromyalgia, a chronic condition marked by musculoskeletal pain and fatigue. For more than a year, she said, she had many days when she could barely move.

“At times, I honestly wondered if I was going to die,” Sobue said. “I continued working as much as I could.”

Her children and people close to her helped keep the center alive and she recovered.

As word of the center spread, it expanded, Sobue recalled. Teachers of Japanese culture — including dance, music, tea ceremonies and other arts — asked for class space. In the first few years, the instruction was only in Japanese, aimed at Japanese families. A good number were sushi chefs, she said, who had to arrange sushi and accompanying sauces as a visual feast, almost like ikebana on a plate. Then as inquires about instruction in English mounted, classes in English were held.

“Introducing authentic Japanese culture to more people in an accessible and respectful way was becoming something like my mission in life,” Sobue said.

She now advises Gov. Kathy Hochul on Asian American issues as part of a panel, guides high school students on language-learning trips to Japan and holds demonstrations in public places.

“I used to be quite shy myself,” she said. “But when we see how happy and inspired people become through these experiences, we feel that we should introduce Japanese culture more actively and in ways that are more visible to the public.”

LIVING TRADITIONS

After a recent ikebana class, she picked up a pitcher of water from the floor so it would be higher on the table, explaining that placing an object on the floor was giving it a lowly position.

“In Japan, everything has a kami,” she said, referring to the Japanese word for spirit or a deity.

“Thank you,” she said with a laugh as she held a piece of paper garbage.

“I’m so sorry,” Sobue said to a bowl of water containing many cut stems that would be thrown away.

Through ikebana, she follows “wabi-sabi,” a Japanese aesthetic philosophy that treasures simplicity and advocates against waste. It views imperfections, like a browning on a leaf, not as damage but as part of the object’s rich history.

“Spending time reflecting on these concepts through ikebana is a blissful and peaceful experience for me,” Sobue said.

She found calm studying her floral arrangement that Wednesday. There were two leaves and three flowers in a waterless half-moon container. Another half-moon container was positioned in front, holding nothing but water.

At home, Sobue has mindfully placed her ikebana at a table just inside the front door.

“I always teach my students: try to put ikebana near the entrance of the house,” the teacher said. “When you go home, you can see the ikebana that makes you feel more relaxed and feel the kindness that people need right now.”