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Garden Design

Early Smell

Today you have to do your part – I did mine by photographing the lilac bush in the garden and also going back to the archives to pick photographs from a place I would usually visit right now. It is a funky little garden north of here in Washington, planted over a century ago with countless species of lilacs. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to use your imagination to provide the smells, some of the most fragrant of all of spring.

Hulda Klager was a German immigrant in the late 1800s, who got her hands on a book about hybridization in 1903. She started hybridizing lilacs two years later and from then on there was no stopping her. Her reputation grew, people ordered, communities vied for being the recipient of the newest annual variety, and she pretty much did it on her own.

Edouarde Manet White Lilacs in a Glass (ca. 1882)

Even the large Columbia River flood of 1948 which basically eradicated her garden was tackled by her with absolute determination: people would return saplings of many of the plants purchased across the years so she could start the garden fresh. She lived to the ripe age of 96 and the garden was eventually taken on by the Woodland Federated Garden Club who founded the Hulda Klager Lilac Society and managed to have the place dedicated as national landmark.

Lawrence Preston Lilac Study #2 (2011)

It is small. It is fragrant. It is weirdly old-fashioned at first sight, the house in some ginger bread way and the garden art leaning towards fairies. It is busy with tourists for exactly two weeks a year, by the busload pre-Covid.

Christiaen van Pol Lilac Blossoms (ca. 1800) – Philly friends you can see this at PMA!

It is also a place of true beauty, capturing the love and skills of a plant enthusiast and the many volunteers in her footsteps who have made preservation possible. I am always amazed at the dedication of people who love plants that bloom for only a microsecond – lilac and peonies among them.

Peter Faes A Marble Vase with Lilac and other Flowers on a Marble Shelf (Undated)

I am truly sad I won’t make it there this year. Maybe next.

Rachmaninoff’s Lilac captures something very specific at the end of the short composition – the way the little parts of each blossom drift down like confetti when the bloom nears the end. I love that piece, here played by the composer himself.

Vincent van Gogh Vase with Lilacs, Daisies and Anemones (1887)

And here is Lilacs by George Walker commissioned by the Boston Symphony Orchestra that won the Pulitzer Prize for music in 1996.

Gustave Baumann A Lilac Year (Woodcut 1951)

Botanical Numbers

207 acres, 120 of them filled with 16 themed gardens. 15.000 different varieties of plants. $25 entrance fee. 6 head gardeners, 1200 volunteers, 485 permanent employees. With an endowment of more than $400 million (and half a billion dollars raised since 2001 with the help of former Reed president Steve Koblick) the Huntington Library, Art Collections and Botanical Gardens is among the wealthiest cultural institutions in the country.

4 major living plants collections among them orchids with over 10.000 plants, 3,600 unique varieties, representing 280 genera, cycads with over 1500 specimen, 80 different camellia species—sasanqua, japonica, reticulata, hiemalis, vernalis, tunghinensis, nitidissima, and semiserrata, to name just a few—and some 1,200 cultivated varieties, and bonsai holdings in the hundreds, from centuries-old twisted junipers to majestic pines, stately elm forests, and more.

1 Heuer. 1 hour. 1 heartbeat to decide that hour would be spent among the cacti in the desert garden.

The light was fading, there was a diffuse mist in the air, the Huntington Botanical Garden was closing soon – the ride from L.A. to Pasadena had been a Friday-rush-hour-traffic nightmare and I got there late.

In short, the ideal conditions for an absolutely magical hour, practically no-one around, silence descending, and the beauty of the plants enhanced by the softness of the damp dusk.

The desert garden I saw is a marvel. It’s one of the largest in the world and almost a century old. It features more than 2,000 species of succulents and desert plants in sixty landscaped beds. Here are bits and pieces I learned from the Huntington’s website:

It is said that when the first English botanist saw the Fouquieria columnaris, he thought it resembled the fantasy creature from Lewis Carroll’s The Hunting of the Snark and dubbed it “Boojum.”

The ribs of the golden barrel cactus resemble an accordion, expanding and contracting as the plant stores and uses water. Many of the golden barrels you see here were planted from seed before 1915 and now weigh several hundred pounds.

Beaucarnea, Bottle Palms, unlikely members of the agave family, are some of the oldest specimens in cultivation, and among the earliest plantings in the Desert Garden. Many species of agave terminate their life cycle by generating a branched inflorescence to 30 feet.

In other words, one last hurrah and then you’re dead…. well, I know I’ll die content having seen these masses of plants in their beauty, variety, strangeness, and incredible economy of survival in hostile environments.

Not that I currently plan on it, dying that is. I am instead scheduling return trips to this botanical garden to see the rest that’s on offer. Next time I’ll know to reserve a full day!

And in case beauty isn’t enough, looks like some of these species are medicinally useful. I cannot, of course, verify those claims.

Music today is what I listen to when I am happy, ever since 1970 when I first discovered Gismonti.

Spring Showers

To round out this week devoted to the natural beauty around us I paid a visit to the tulip farm. It ain’t Keukenhof, the Dutch garden, but it ain’t shabby either. Jumping from puddle to puddle, dodging rain clouds, trying to argue with yet another shower threatening my camera, I had a grand time.

It’s still early, more than half of the fields not yet in bloom, and the place going to be open for almost another month. But the foliage alone was thrilling, and what was open did not disappoint.

Neither did the perennial viewing of humanity; some dressed to match the flowers, or at least their color;

some ignoring the weather and appearing in apparel more fitting for July;

some clutching their unicorns, or shivering in their cow mobile,

and the workers on break happy to rest those muddy limbs and heavy rain coats.

Did I mention it rained? It surely made for beautiful light. And it felt like spring, a riot of soft, muted color, and pastel air.

Some new sights,

Short-stemmed, nestling like Easter eggs

and some names that made me smile.

My intention to post Sylvia Plath’s Tulip poem evaporated upon re-reading. It is just too depressing, written from hospital when she was undergoing surgery and on war-footing with those gorgeous flowers that disturbed the waxen peace of the ward. I will attach a link all the way at the bottom where she reads it herself only for those who need a dose of downward comparison.

It shall be William Wordsworth instead (and I just happened to photograph daffodils as well….):

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

So much dancing in that poem, so much dancing in my very own grateful heart from the joy that is spring in Oregon, dark skies or not.

And here is the perfect garden-in-the-rain music….

Spruced up dreams

I always know that I am starting to climb out of the emotional or physical hole du jour when sparks of longing fly in the direction of travel. And yesterday’s visit to a local garden surely set off visions of possible destinations.

I had not been to the Oregon Garden in Silverton since its opening some 18 years ago, even though it is a mere 50 minute ride from my house. The botanical garden sure has come a long way since its inception and is pleasant enough (particularly when you contend yourself with the fact that some of the garden “art” seems to elicit happy squeals at least from the short set.)

The garden, literally, came into existence because of a “big stink.” The rural community of Silverton failed to meet sewage regulations in the 1990s. At the same time the Oregon Association of Nurseries, one of the biggest industries in the state, was looking for a location to showcase their products, which needed, however, a lot of water. A rare match between public agencies and private industry was made:

Committees met, plans were drawn, acreage was acquired, bonds issued, checks written and before long the dream was realized. Today Silverton has new wastewater treatment facilities that send up to a million gallons of treated effluent to an array of more than twenty terraced and connected ponds that were excavated from a gently sloping 250 acre hillside. That network eventually delivers a limitless supply of treated irrigation to an 80 acre group of variously themed plantings that today make up the Oregon Garden. http://western.conifersociety.org/reference-gardens/the-oregon-garden/


The 80 acres are divided into some 20 specialty gardens, including one for the senses, one for kids, one that’s pet friendly, a rose garden, a fuchsia section etc. – you get the idea. The website informs about all of them, although their “what’s in bloom” section sadly lags some months behind.

Quite a bit was in bloom, as it turns out, and as with any spring visit to any garden, you got a good glimpse at the underlying structure of things, not yet obscured by color riots of strategically planted annuals, or waves of perennials. And the structure is solid, if, honestly, unexciting.

Except, except: They have an amazing collection of conifers, of all kinds, all heights, all countries of origin, amassed in a small area, showing off a tapestry of texture (full disclosure: that last term was provided by a gardener friend when I searched for words trying to describe the conifer convention.)

The tight spacing allows you to appreciate the variety of tree forms, needle shapes, colors. Spruce green is but the least of it.

Dwarf and miniature conifers are collected and tended with the help of the Western Region of the American Conifer Society (ACS) which has a continuing impact on the design of this garden.

There were more than 400 conifers already 10 years ago and a serious expansion was announced in 2013 – I could not find current numbers.

Clouds of pollen billowed from the trees when walking through them, looking like smoke, carrying my thoughts to more exotic sites of famous conifers.

Should I go to the Monumento Natural Bosques Petrificados de Jaramillo in Argentina, where they have ancient fossilized conifers dating to the Jurassic Period? Advice like this makes it tempting…. “You need to carry drinking water, food and petrol, as the closest town is located more than 200 km away.”https://www.patagonia-argentina.com/en/petrified-wood-natural-monument/
 
 

Or what about this: back to my beloved Holland where you can find the most complete collection of Gymnosperms in the world at Pinetum Blijdenstein, a conifer botanical garden near Hilversum? http://www.pinetum.nl/?language=UK

Then again, the world’s largest natural maze beckons in Switzerland. The Evionnaz labyrinth is made from 18.000 (!) Thuja conifers….

https://whenonearth.net/get-lost-in-the-evionnaz-adventure-labyrinth-switzerland/

Open for suggestions! In the meantime we’ll listen to music by Sibelius celebrating the lakes and conifer forests of Finland. Photographs from the Oregon Garden.

Here is an OPB clip by Jacob Pander on the garden:https://www.opb.org/television/programs/artbeat/segment/oregon-garden-art-scultpture-collection/

Art on the Road (4) – Longwood Gardens

I have always felt that gardens, carefully planned, tended, designed gardens, can be a form of art. Add to the garden an additional creative element – fountains that move water in magical ways – we can include a garden, Longwood Gardens, in this week’s Art on the Road series unhesitatingly.

(For those of you expecting yet again contrasting takes as per theme of the week, I spare you the sight of my garden – a.k.a. the Buttercup Biennale – and me the embarrassment.)

Longwood Gardens, about an hour away from Philadelphia, were originally created around 1906 by yet another man with a passion, means and openness towards philanthropy: Pierre S. du Pont. A traveler after my own heart with a keen interest in technology and a sucker for spectacle, he created not only beautiful and increasingly impressive gardens, but established a series of waterworks that are indeed spectacular, particularly in their new, just recently opened form. Attached is a short clip that explains these developments. (I had to bite my tongue when the fountain display designer talked about using both sides of the brain – that old misperception of where creativity and rationality are lodged…. but other than that I found him amusing.)

 

 

 

 

I obviously saw the daylight version, which was impressive enough. The nighttime technicolor performance is on my list for another visit, it must be a sight to behold. From the catalogue: “After a two-year, $90 million dismantling and near-total rebuilding of a fountain garden unveiled in 1931, the revived five-acre garden increases the number of fountains from 380 to 1,719 and incorporates LED lights that will bring colors unknown to the old show — along with bursts of water propelled by compressed air and flames of propane gas that flare atop columns of water. The jets sway and pirouette to music on a stage of interlaced basins, canals and circular pools. The highest reach 175 feet.”

$90 millions – I wonder how the Flint, MI water supply could be improved against lead poisoning with such numbers…..

But really, for me the garden itself was the jewel. I forget how big it is (enormous is a specific enough description, trust me), but I remember that 1600 people are working on it either as employees or volunteers. They have gone to green power, pursue new projects that include native plants and an 86 acres meadow garden that focusses on ecological design.

https://longwoodgardens.org/gardens/meadow-garden

At this point in the year the subtlety of large swaths of creeping blue phlox under the bright green new leaves were a highlight. So was the still golden color of the emerging leaves on the young copper beeches, and the already reddish version on the mature trees.

 

 

Carefully tended flower walkways (that alas included my pet peeve of combining plants that do not naturally co-ocurr in a given season, viz. snapdragons next to the tulips) alternate with stretches of park dominated by old growth trees or french design hedges.

 

I did not have the time or energy to explore the vast conservatories, and the day was too beautiful anyways to stay inside. It was enough to marvel at all the vision and care that went into this place from the very beginning, as well as, frankly, money. Which brought me to random thoughts on philanthropy in general – do people support causes because they want to leave foot prints? Because they have to somehow spend some of all these riches and might as well do so to applause? Do they mainly care about making the world a better place? Are yesterday’s art collections and water gardens today’s space exploration? Sort of boys and their toys? As it turns out this morning’s NYT has someone touching on the same topic:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/09/opinion/jeff-bezos-spend-131-billion.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=opinion-c-col-left-region&region=opinion-c-col-left-region&WT.nav=opinion-c-col-left-region

Asking myself what current woman philanthropist I could name I only came up with Melinda Gates, and her as part of a power couple. Had to look it up – and it doesn’t look too good (in terms of wealth unchained from family relations) :

https://www.insidephilanthropy.com/home/2014/2/25/meet-the-15-most-powerful-women-in-us-philanthropy.html

 

 

Better go and weed now, leaving my own footprint in a buttercup meadow that otherwise will take over…..

Magnolia Plantation

Gone with the Wind was a book that I devoured as a tween, blissfully oblivious to the historic context and fully caught by fantasies of emulating Ms. O’Hara.  Neither Wilkes nor Butlers in plain sight as love interests for this 12-year old, alas. I should have visited Magnolia Plantation then, my ignorance of slavery a shield against conflicting feelings.

The plantation was founded in 1676 by the Drayton family, and continually held and expanded by them, with wealth from slave-produced rice crops. I did not visit the slave cabins, which were in use from early on until 1990 (!) and only have been subject to historic protection for the last 5 years. http://www.magnoliaplantation.com/slaverytofreedom.html

I focused on the gardens which are astonishing, even in winter. Again, the dialectic of suffering and beauty seems a Leitmotiv in my S.C. sojourn. The man who created the gardens at the beginning of the 19th century had unexpectedly fallen into the inheritance of the plantation at age 22; he really wanted to pursue his career as a minister, a devout man. He also saw his Philadelphia bride languish for home and tried to cheer her with the gardens. He was the first to bring azaleas to the country and cultivate camellia Japonica for southern climes. A good guy, in essence, deeply anchored in a love for God and nature – and a slave holder.

The plantation suffered from the losses in the civil war and opened up, thus able to survive, its gardens to the public in the late 18oos. In our century the Audubon Society is also represented, having created a swamp walk of breathtaking beauty, where you practically stumble over the wildlife.

 

The slaves and their descendants were buried in the swampy woods. 

The Draytons were by marriage related to the Grinkés, an elite Charleston family that produced two of the most remarkable women the South has ever seen. Born among 13 children into a rich, pro-slavery household, their father a Supreme Court Judge, Sarah and Angelina both escaped Charleston around 1820 to become Quakers in Philadelphia and start careers as abolitionist writers, thinkers and lecturers. The older one also became a feminist and tried to test the 15th amendment (allowing men of all races to vote) by trying to vote when she was almost 80 years old. Contrast here, too: the abolitionists welcomed women among their brethren but the moment these started to argue for women’ rights they were told to let go and were actively oppressed.

The 19th amendment to the U.S. Constitution was eventually ratified in 1920, giving women the right to vote after a 72-year struggle. 6 months earlier, the League of Women Voters was founded during the convention of the National American Woman Suffrage Association. A good thing, one might think, but also riddled with complications: it has been argued that the women’ right to vote was needed to counterbalance the rights granted to Black men and that the suffrage movement discriminated strongly against their Black sisters. Link below gives a short summary of the claims: https://www.teenvogue.com/story/womens-suffrage-leaders-left-out-black-women

Harriet Simon brought the LWV to Charleston, standing out among her class as a moderate liberal, and seemingly progressive. She did a lot of good, fighting on the right side in questions of desegregation, but also had a problem admitting Black women into the fold of the League. I think it is important to value what these women accomplished surrounded by overt racism that few of us experience in our own personal lives as sheltered, Northern US Whites or Europeans, accused as traitors to their own race. They showed courage and persistence, despite slow, incremental steps toward more equality.

Should you feel inclined to see her grave, these signs will greet you. The place is filled with birds, confederate flags and inscriptions longing for the past.

 

 

Chasing the Blues

Today’s antidote for the politics-related news blues offers blue flowers and an interesting musical crossover – from classics to blues (or at least jazz with a hint of blues… )

For some reason blue is not a frequent color in nature. Less than 10% of the 280.000 species of flowering plants have blue flowers. Or so I learn from the link below, that should hold some interest for avid gardeners.

http://www.mnn.com/your-home/organic-farming-gardening/stories/the-science-of-blue-flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s something else that’s rare, if in art and not nature: truly successful musical crossover. I chose Bach’s concerto in D minor as arranged and played by Jaques Loussier and his Jazz trio.

Loussier and his trio have been at the cutting edge of fusing complicated classical pieces with jazz, exploiting and expanding the rhythmic and harmonic implications of the original(s). If this doesn’t bring cheer, I don’t know what will.

 

 

 

 

Urban Green Spaces

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There are historic gardens, botanical gardens, productive gardens, gardens of the rich and famous, sculpture gardens, contemporary gardens – and then there is green urban development. A familiar American example would be NYC’s High Line, a 1.45 mile long park built on a disused, elevated Westside railroad spur. Here are some views from the High Line:         IMG_4371 copy

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Less familiar might be a number of parks developed in several regions of Germany which utilize industrial heritage sites.

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Gasometer Gichtbuehnen The most famous of these is probably the Landscape Park Duisburg Nord, a 450 acres site around old steelworks, blast furnaces and factory remnants, developed since 1991 by Latz and Partners. The landscape architect intended to create something that helped to heal and understand the industrial past, rather than reject it. (Note, that of course the Thyssen/Krupp company who was a major player in these parts, contributed mightily to the war effort and also used forced labor, 75.000 prisoners, if I remember correctly.) I have not yet visited these gardens, but they are, from everything I’ve heard, a mind boggling experience, in their various ways of making use of the terrain, their combination of planted gardens and naturally spreading vegetation, and their use of all the found iron pieces, screws, nuts, bolts, populating garden beds. By all reports they instill a sense of reinvention based on recycling, re-use, and hope that places can be opened to new life when their historical use is outmoded. (Photos from their website. The attached URL is a long and interesting article about the design philosophy of the park.) http://www.academia.edu/2296761/Gardens_Landscape_Nature_Duisburg_Nord_Germany

Geographically close is the Garden of Remembrance designed by Israeli artist Dani Caravan, which utilizes structures of the old harbor in Duisburg, adjacent to the new Jewish Community Center built close to the site of the synagogue destroyed in 1938. Further in the vicinity are parks nestled in abandoned, old, open brown-coal mines. The goal of all of these developments is really to make use of historical remnants but create something new that allows some harmonious union between  memory and looking to the future.

One last mention of the positive use of green spaces: the international or regional garden shows that happen ever so often in Germany are these days often arranged to take place in socio-economically deprived neighborhoods. Whatever gets built for these extensive shows, their shaping of the landscape, their demonstration of green public buildings like pools or climbing halls etc. is then there for the use of the neighborhood long after the garden folks have traveled home.  The photos below are from one of those three years back in Hamburg Harburg, a neighborhood that is intensely diverse and poor.DSC_0435 copy

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Will I ever understand Abstract Art?

· We will find out. Or not. ·

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I know very little – really next to nothing – about abstract art. Sometimes I think that interferes with my appreciation of abstract paintings, sometimes the opposite seems to be true. Same for creating abstract photographic montages. So I figured I take this week to learn something about it and share what I found. Be prepared for a lot of direct quotes – and a lot of digression when other things popped up in my reading.

Here is a quote from Charles Jencks, critic, landscape designer, polemicist and one of the most interesting writers explaining modernism: …”For the founders of the Museum of Modern Art, the canonic story of Modern art led from Neo-Impressionism through Fauvism to Cubism, the Bauhaus and Modern Architecture (capitalized, as the gospel ought to be). This canonic trajectory led directly to Abstract Art, and it determined the arrangement of works in the galleries of MoMA right into the 1980s. This canon also justified a view of history as aiming toward abstraction as its goal, and, at the same time, validated the major bloodline of Modern artists from Picasso through Jackson Pollock…” (MoMa has now changed its exhibition patterns away from historical periods towards subject driven collections – underlining in the quote by me.)

The attached article http://www.harvarddesignmagazine.org/issues/14/canons-in-crossfire is really about architecture and cycles of creativity – I came across it accidentally because it quoted a book I am interested in  – Creating Minds – An Anatomy of Creativity Seen Through the Lives of Freud, Einstein, Picasso, Stravinsky, Eliot, Graham and Ghandi – by Howard Gardner. (Hey, in English! Paperback!) But it got me wondering about what someone who clearly thinks aiming towards abstraction can NOT be the goal, would strive for instead. Turns out Jencks believes the desire to know and relate to the universe, to understand the cosmos, is one of the strongest drives of sentient beings. His landscape art, abstract and yet content driven, is attempting to do just that. Look at his website http://www.charlesjencks.com/#! under projects and you understand what he’s after.  Do I now know more about abstract art? Hm. Not really. Stay tuned.

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