Tooting My Own (French) Horn

My Paris garden was published in the New York Times yesterday! To be fair, the article was about Abercrombie & Fitch and the photos focused primarily on the models (as they should.) But I am still a little over the moon…

The entrance to the garden, with the hornbeam allee and green wall behind. Who needs sculpture when you have these cuties?

Visitors walk through the entire garden to reach the entrance to the store. The monumental door is framed by boxwood hedges and square lawn panels.

The link to the article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/16/business/global/16retail.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=business

 

The End of the Suspense

…those ellipsis from my last post taunting me. Reminding me I have not written in so many months. There are two reasons: everyone’s favorite excuse–especially for self-important blog-writers–”I was really busy” and the true story. I just didn’t want to share. I wanted to keep it to myself for as long as possible, because it was that meaningful of an experience. Even now, I will limit photos and commentary to the designs of the incredible gardens of Florence. Wouldn’t want to deviate from the focus by blathering on and on about the generous family that hosted me who will hopefully now be lifelong friends, or being followed around with cashmere blankets and prosecco by the staff of the glorious Il Salviatino, or being alone in the gallery with the David in tearful awe. This is not a travel blog.

So, without further delay, Boboli…

Plan of Boboli Gardens

With Paolo, the head gardener of Boboli for decades, and Paolo, one of my hosts, I spent several hours touring the exquisitely maintained grounds of the Palazzo Pitti. Paolo I knew every answer to every question I asked. He told of the centuries-long history and evolution of the gardens, revealed the tricks that were used by the various designers throughout the ages, opened every door and unlocked every gate, and explained the importance of water in and to the garden and the city. His dedication to his field was a recurring theme among everyone I met; their passion and knowledge were inspiring.

 

The back entrance to the garden, with the conservatory at the end of the allee. Even the secondary spaces are well-considered and well-maintained.

The parterre garden outside the conservatory. In the warm months, the terracotta pots are placed within the beds. The arches of the architecture are reflected within the design of the garden beds.

The function of providing light, air and warmth results in the dramatic form of long, stacked rows of hundreds of citrus trees in characteristic terracotta pots.

The water garden at the bottom of the hill collects all of the water from the site into a large moat with a central fountain.

One of the secondary fountains, with the moat behind

A compass made of small river stones in the center of the gravel path. Unsurprisingly, the Italians are master masons.

The allee uphill is lined with statuary and hedges. The hedges actually narrow as they go uphill, dramaticizing the perspective. I am testing this trick in one of my own projects, a garden in Paris.

Hidden behind the hedges is an ancient system of gutters that funnels runoff down to the water garden. The gutters are themselves beautiful and a far cry from our concrete eyesores today.

These little green tunnels run axially across the central allee. Paolo II explained that in the days of Medici, the hedges were used for hunting birds by draping them with nets and capturing them within.

Venturing down one of the green tunnels, I could hear the trickle of water. The source was this fountain, which pumps water from below ground to expose it, as a decorative reminder of the source of the life of the garden itself, according to Paolo I.

On close inspection, the hedges consist of multiple species of plants. This was also for bird trapping, because the different berries at different times of year ensured a longer hunting season.

This amphitheater-shaped terrace garden lies at the top of the hill and end of the allee. In its Medici-era incarnation, it was a garden of annual and perennial flowers. It had since been converted (about 150 years ago) to an orchard to reduce maintenance.

The view of Palazzo Pitti from the top of the hill

An opportunity for an intricate bed design, this is primarily a viewing garden to be seen from the upper stories of the adjacent building.

The oldest garden of the palace, the medicinal Camellia sasanqua walk. It doesn't quite fit with the grandeur of the rest of Boboli but is a testament to the Italian respect for history.

Agreed.

Before I Knew Florence…

…there was Paris–the endless streets of beaux-arts façades, massive reserves of art and miles of gorgeous gardens. Not to mention the food, the wine, the language, the pretty people, the shopping, the atmosphere and the way of life. It was like a great, unrequited, long-distance crush. But now Florence has stolen my affection, which makes this post about my once-favorite garden at the Musée Rodin almost nostalgic.

Dear Paris, I hope you understand. I was young and naïve, and I just didn’t know how good it could get.

Axonometric drawing of the current design of the garden at Musée Rodin. The entire site is nestled within the heart of the city, and it has a long and rich history--once a nobleman's palace and grounds, later a studio for Rodin and his contemporaries.

View from inside the building over the great lawn. The proportions of each element (lawn, paths, mixed border) are perfect, and the framing of the composition by the Maple trees completes the picture.

The combination of plants in the mixed shrub-and-perennial border is masterful, with its textures, colors and multiple-season interest.

Those framing Maples I mentioned are actually allées of pleached trees on both sides of the central lawn. Walking through the site offers new and different experiences at every turn, both with planting design and strategically located sculpture.

The view over the great lawn back towards the Hôtel Biron (the historic name of the building)

A very clean step detail that is fairly common in Paris. The principle at work here--classical materials and design pared down to their bare essence--is inspiring to me in my own work and a distinct talent of the French. (Even the Florentines will concede that point.)

A closeup, showing the relationship between the treads, risers, side walls and grade

A small seating area off to one side, another example of the brilliant use of every inch (or centimeter) of the entire site

A bosque of Lindens set in gravel provide a simple setting for a sculpture. One of my favorite aspects of this garden is the variety of treatments of trees--bosques, allees, groves and single specimens--and still never becoming "busy."

The Burghers of Calais is my favorite sculpture of Rodin, but the little moat beneath it is so distracting it's almost irritating.

The reason it's my favorite... the exquisitely wrought hands

Two icons of my former infatuation in one photo

Now on to my new love and all of its wonders…

A Borrowed Post

I am interrupting the reports of my European adventures to link to a great post on the myriad beautiful paving patterns at Dumbarton Oaks in Georgetown, Washington, DC. See for yourself on Jennifer Horn’s blog Planted Cloud, http://www.plantedcloud.com/2010/11/dumbarton-oaks-paving-patterns.html.

Madrrrrrrid

Plan of Parc del Retiro

I am going to be letting the pictures do a lot of the talking in all posts from this trip. Madrid was the first leg. A beautiful city, where “c” is “th”, “v” is “b” and you must rrrrrroll your r’s… I had to get the concierge to tell the taxi driver to take me to the Prado because I couldn’t say it properly. Very near the Prrrrrrado lies the Parc del Retiro, which clearly represents the high value the city of Madrid places upon its gardens.

Reflecting Pool in Formal Gardens. Elaborate water features are abundant in Madrid--found in private gardens, street roundabouts and public parks.

Heavy pruning is also common. I like the contrast against the natural shapes of the cedars.

How's this for a sculptural tree? Granted, it's not achieved by nature, but transforming a boring juniper into such an interesting form deserves respect.

A closeup of the trunk.

The contrast between the man-formed and the natural enhance the beauty of both.

A panoramic view of the formal gardens, click to enlarge

This was an especially cool double-duty detail. The paths are pitched to the rills, and the rills connect to the treepits, thereby watering the trees with rainwater runoff.

A closeup, for my landscape-architect friends

The chestnut allee

The placement of statues of historically significant figures along the allee reinforce the linear axis.

They LOVE their fountains. This one, because of its setting and its relative subtlety (relative being the operative word,) is particularly nice.

The paving around the aforementioned fountain displays the Spanish disposition and talent for masonry.

Next up–a garden I’ve wanted to write about for ages, Musee Rodin en Paris!

A Look into My Library

I buy many, many books, but I always return to a select few for reference and inspiration. I have compiled a list of my favorites on Amazon, and there is a link to it on the right side of this page under “Shopping.” Also under that heading are several links to sources for unusual and exceptional garden furnishings. And the other new additions are blogs I read, organized by category.

As always, suggestions for expanding my repertoire are welcome!

Nature’s Sculpture

Lest I have given the impression that I only like and create highly manicured gardens, I am sharing one of my other obsessions (along with travel, cemeteries and shoes)–trees sculpted by time and nature.

On a recent trip to Auburn, Alabama, I was impressed by the number of lovely crepe myrtles. Too often, the poor trees are victims of “crepe murder”, whereby their branches are chopped back to stumps and the regrowth is a horrible, unnatural mushroom shape. But when left unpruned, these trees become graceful specimens with muscled trunks and arching canopies, highly deserving of their popularity in the Southern landscape.

In the Hamptons, New York, there are a surprising quantity of massive, ancient beech trees. When I have encountered them on past projects, the design has been catered to their preservation. Their size and character can remove the dreaded “suburban” quality (architects’ and landscape designers’ favorite insult of one another’s work) and give a new house and its garden a sense of age and importance. There are many varieties of beech–green, red, purple, multi-color, weeping, fernleaf–but they all have smooth, gray bark almost elephantine where it wrinkles to form its sturdy branches and spreading roots.

Shadows appear in sharp relief on the smooth, light gray bark, adding yet another dimension of beauty to these trees.

In nearly every folder of my travel photo library, there is at least one image of a sculptural tree. Below is a Carpinus, also known as Musclewood, Ironwood or Hornbeam, in Hyde Park in London.

And for each city in which I’ve lived, there is a folder dedicated to photos of its beautiful trees, reminders of the many days I’ve spent walking around, looking up.

A crabapple in Central Park, from my early days in New York

I am not the first or the last to be moved and inspired by the forms of trees. The artist Roxy Paine has taken the subject to another level with his stainless steel sculptures.

Madison Square Park installation

Maelstrom at the Met

–And a note on upcoming posts: I will be traveling to Madrid, Paris and Florence soon, so check in next month for photos of sure-to-be amazing gardens!