After years abroad, the floral designer returns to the Philippines and learns what it means to reconnect with home.
In the middle of a busy road in Quezon City, flanked by car shops and the sound of passing jeeps, it’s easy to miss the quiet studio of Paraluman. Down a small street lined with apartments, Kim Francisco opens her door and reveals a different world. Her studio is filled with plants, flowers, and foliage, the scent of burning incense, and the warm company of her cat. This is where she runs her floral business, Paraluman.
On a table sits a vase of anthurium, a unique and sculptural plant that commands attention. Its deep red hue matches Francisco’s hair and embodies her identity. It also reflects the work she creates: unorthodox and bold, yet full of life. “I always use anthuriums,” Francisco says. “I used them in Toronto too. Back then, they were a luxury because they were so hard to find. But here, they’re everywhere.”
Immigrating and Returning
Paraluman was a business Francisco brought home from Toronto to the Philippines. She migrated with her family at the age of 10 and spent 17 years abroad. Francisco didn’t always know she wanted to be a floral designer. Initially, she studied music and worked in the industry for a couple of months. She later moved to Australia to explore another path, but it was a moment with sunflowers that changed something in her. “I was 21 at that time and I was there for about 6 months for a stint. On my way to work were these two sunflowers. In the beginning, they were just sprouting, then I would see them blooming, sometimes leaning toward the sun. Every day, it looked different.” She saw herself growing with those sunflowers and says that’s where her interest started. Francisco went back to Canada and enrolled at the Canadian Institute of Floral Design. She was then in between working at a flower shop and eventually opening her own business.
Naming her studio “Paraluman,” a Filipino word that means “creative muse,” was a way to stay connected. “When you’re living in a different country, you’re doing everything to hold on to your culture,” Francisco says. She did all sorts of things not to lose her identity. They spoke Filipino at home, she worked in a Filipino restaurant, and she never stopped listening to Filipino music. “The first line of that Eraserheads song, ‘kamukha mo si paraluman’, was also an inspiration,” she adds.
Despite all that, the experience of immigration left that feeling of ambiguity. “I don’t think I realized it as a kid, but it was a very jarring experience. Even with my efforts, it was almost like I forgot what it was to be Filipino.” Living abroad meant growing up surrounded by another culture, where few people could understand the nuances of being Filipino. One example Francisco says is how Filipinos have a niche sense of humor. “I felt like for the longest time, you can’t connect with anyone there. Once you immigrate, there will always be half of you somewhere else.”
But it’s no different when she visited the Philippines for vacations back then. “I thought reconnecting would be easy as…I’ll just go home to visit,” Francisco says. “When I came here, I was slapped with a lot of reality checks. There are so many things about being Filipino that I didn’t quite understand anymore. Even the system, it’s so different.”
Finding Connection through Nature
Although overwhelming, Francisco still longed to come back. In 2023, she returned to the Philippines for good and brought Paraluman with her. She says that the business was warmly welcomed, but the feeling of disconnection remained. One day in a local beach trip with friends, it all came to her realization. “We were walking to an island and my friends kept asking, ‘What flower is that?’ I had been working with flowers for years, but I didn’t know the answer to a single one of their questions.” She knew all the names of commercial flowers abroad, but none of the native ones around her. “I was flooded with shame. I cried for hours.”
That moment led to her reflection. Francisco realized she wanted to reconnect with both her identity and her work through the nature surrounding her. “Now, I love sourcing in Dangwa, the Farmer’s Market in Cubao, and even using what’s available in the palengke (local market),” she says. One installation she created for Vogue Philippines featured talong, sili, and sitaw (eggplant, chili, and beans), common Filipino vegetables used in a creative context.
Apart from knowing nature close to her identity, she also wanted to build a deeper relationship with it. “I’ve been using natural materials for years, but am I really helping people connect with nature?” she asks. “Coming home made me realize I was more disconnected than I thought. And that disconnection wasn’t just personal, it flowed through Paraluman too.”
For Francisco, to just create an installation in the corner of a room to make it more aesthetically pleasing is not enough anymore. “I want to create that connection between the people who see it and nature itself.” One way she brings this to life is by opening up her studio for workshops that include activities like journaling instead of just flower arranging.
“Everything we have in our lives comes from nature,” she says. “We go through seasons as people. We grow and we bloom again.” Her journey reflects that rhythm, always changing, but becoming more grounded with each shift. Francisco shares that her next chapter will be devoted to art and conceptual installations, as she seeks to connect deeper with her artistry and the significance it holds.
Learn more about Paraluman on Instagram @paraluman.world.
