Garden as Process

, Crrritic

Large wooden praying mantis at Cheekwood Art & Gardens. Temporary art installations are part of the evolving artistry of many public gardens.

Is a particular plant a weed? Is a garden a work of art? And who gets to decide? If you’ve read our recent rantings, you’ve likely noticed these questions do not have simple answers. The answers vary, depending on the gardener.

Many gardeners (like me) learn their land slowly. At first, they may plant one of everything, and see which thrive, and spread those around. Or they may start with tried-and-true passalongs or familiar friends, then gradually add unfamiliar plants here and there. With knowledge and experience, they might make better guesses. With ample money, time, and labor, they might build better bones.

Whatever their approach, for these gardeners, creating a garden is a process. It is not a remodel that will beautify the neighborhood while the gardener kicks back and enjoys having finished. It may very well beautify the neighborhood, but it will never be finished — which is really the point.

And those plants in the garden? They may be place-holding pioneers, filling ground that will later be given to longer-lived (and perhaps fussier) treasures. A certain plant could be a reminder, anchoring beloved memories of a person or place. It might be a weed the gardener hasn’t dealt with yet. Or it could just be there because a curious gardener is getting to know it better.

This type of evolving garden—a living laboratory, an ongoing conversation between person and place—is different from landscapes installed (by professionals or do-it-yourselfers) as a route to decreasing yardwork, much like low-care siding is installed on a home to decrease painting. The steward of a low-care landscape may welcome expert opinions about such things, but I would not presume to tell an avid gardener what is and is not a weed, what is or isn’t art.

Posted by

Evelyn Hadden
on July 2, 2014 at 3:09 am, in the category But is it Art?, Everybody’s a Critic, Real Gardens.

Comment List

  • Sarina 23 / 05 / 2016

    Praying mantis as in prayer

  • admin 20 / 11 / 2016

    “Garden” as verb.

  • admin 20 / 11 / 2016

    Garden as a process. You have described my gardening style perfectly. The next time my husband asks me when am I going to be done, I will show him this.

  • John 21 / 11 / 2016

    Well said. My garden isn’t an “outdoor room” of my house, to be decorated and flaunted, it’s my medium that I work in/with.

  • Deborah 21 / 11 / 2016

    Exactly. Tibs, i’m with you. I will show the article and comments to my husband now.

  • Stan Stansbury 21 / 11 / 2016

    I don’t think we just learn our land slowly, what flourishes, what fails. I think we learn ourselves slowly too, what pleases us and what doesn’t. We test preconceived notions against the reality of the land.

  • Donna 21 / 11 / 2016

    checking blogs, thinking of starting one, liked this one a lot. Avid gardener, a work of art in progress always. Still remember the couple at the Garden Center arguing about planting: she said it is always in a state of change. He said plant it and be done with it, the couple went at it for awhile, and voices were raised. Of course she was right, he has a lot to learn.

  • Joe Schmitt 21 / 11 / 2016

    I beg to differ. A garden is always finished, as soon as the gardener stops gardening. I view mine with total and utter defeat every day. Surprisingly, it’s no less interesting. I’ve learned to marvel in the rhythmic spiky spires of motherwort and to cheer on the leaf miners in the lambsquarters. Even thought a time or two about testing the efficacy of cleavers on my baldness. What never occurs to me anymore is attempting to regain control. My biggest challenge is finding and getting the attention of my stone deaf geriatric dog in the thicket.

  • Anne Wareham 21 / 11 / 2016

    And yet – granted the absence of bulldozers – there is a remaining core. Like us – changing our cells continually but still feeling ourselves essentially to be the same person as the toddler we once were..

  • Nancy Nielsen 22 / 11 / 2016

    Our garden, high above a bay – in an area where bears and moose outnumber humans – had a very tall post which held a prayer flag. New “neighbor” (other side of bay) came rushing up to the cabin. What he thought was a rescue mission turned into a chance to chat and explain the why of it all. Yes, it stayed until the winds shredded it, carrying its message far over meadow and woodland.

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