Bellevue Botanical Garden

On Tuesday, my older daughter's school class had field trip to Bellevue Botanical gardens. I volunteered to help, and took the opportunity to take some pictures of this quite lovely garden located on the East side of Seattle and Lake Washington. It was a wonderfully foggy day, a complete contrast to my trip to the Olympic Sculpture Park a day earlier.


Spreading on an area of totally 53 acres, Bellevue Botanical Garden has all the "display elements"of a traditional botanical garden; the Northwest Perennial Alliance Border, Waterwise Garden, the Japanese Yao Garden, Alpine Rock Garden and summer displays of dahlias and fuchsias. In addition to this, it has large areas of woodlands, meadows and wetlands, much of which are unlandscaped and in their natural state. Especially the tall conifers, as western red-cedar, Douglas fir and native schrubs give a hint of how the wilderness further around Seattle looks like today and how it used to look like here earlier.
As it is situated in the middle of sprawling suburban area, the Bellevue Botanical Garden give the visitors and locals a wonderful possibility for recreation. For the festive season, it will be lit with 500 000 electrical lights, a fact that the volunteering ladies happily advertised while I was there, telling that this is the most popular event during the year. Feeling like a complete bore, I am very sceptical of this kind of waste of energy - looking like a floral Las Vegas does not quite satisfy my garden design appetite... Despite this, the gardens are well worth a visit while in Seattle.

Olympic Sculpture Park in Seattle

Yesterday, I had a wonderful morning at the Olympic Sculpture Park on the shores of Elliott Bay in Seattle city centre. It is an impressive park, built on 9 acres of former industrial land close to rail lines, huge piers and diverse office buildings. More than that, it provides the only direct access point to the sea within Seattle city centre, and forms a continuation for the Myrtle Edwards Park North of it. The Olympic Sculpture Park was created with large donations from Seattle personalities, and is operated by the Seattle Art Museum. The aim was to return the site as much as possible to a functioning ecosystem, while providing a unique setting for outdoor sculpture and public recreation.

The park has a very strong form, consisting of what I experienced as "wedges" connected by a pathway leading to the seashore. As the SAM website states, the project’s lead designers, Weiss/Manfredi, developed an Z-shaped configuration connecting three parcels into a series of four distinct landscapes. According to it, this design "afforded a wide range of environmental restoration processes, including brownfield redevelopment, salmon habitat restoration, native plantings and sustainable design strategies". I did not quite catch all this while sauntering through the park; I only experienced three different areas, one up near the pavilion and the Serra sculpture, the second in the mid-level with the extensive lawn areas and the third at the seashore. I would never have understood that the waterfront (as seen above), so near a heavily trafficked city and a harbour, would be a salmon habitat restoration area. However, I think it's design reflects nicely the form of the piers south from it, built in an steep angle from the waterfront in order to hold better against the waves.

Like in so many contemporary parks, an important goal was to use native vegetation in the planting, not only because they are an integral part of the restoration effort, but also because the dense native vegetation is more sustainable and helps retain rainfall above the soil surface. As native plants often take years to establish and the park is still very young (it opened in January 2007), it still was very open and much of the vegetation seemed to the struggling in the exposed and quite harsh environment. The "bones", that is, the structure is there, but to get it to be more than that and become a real park, the Olympic Sculpture Park needs time, and maybe also some editing considering the planting palette. For example, the ferns used as undervegetation seemed to be longing for the trees to grow and shade them. Even snowberries, that usually are tough as anything, seemed to be struggling (picture below). Also, as it is late autumn, all the meadows were shorn very short and could not be experienced as they ought to, but it merely looked as the park consisted of huge areas of lawn.

And what about the sculptures? Check out the pictures. My favourite was probably the huge "Eagle" by Calder, looming like an ancient, red dinosaur between the city and the sea (picture above with the pavillion behind it; one other favorite place of mine, Moderna Museet in Stockholm, also has huge Calder sculptures in front of it). "Wake" by Richard Serra (further above) is made of huge sheets of curved steel welded together to a slight s-curve. It's monumental scale feels totally in proportion with it's site here, and in my mind, reflects the huge tankers anchored in the bay waiting to be unloaded. Dennis Oppenheim's huge "Cones" (below, in front of Teresita Fernandez's screen "Seattle Cloud Cover") give a playful note to the strictly contemporary park design - a nice touch of humour which all too often is forgotten in these high-profile landscape designs.

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Genius loci in urban environments

Yesterday evening, Landscape architect Kathryn Gustafson delivered a very interesting and inspirational lecture at the University of Washington. She called her lecture "Landscape in the Changing Environment" and discussed the different elements involved in creating the renowned designs her two landscape practices (in London and Seattle) are famous for.

During her lecture, Ms. Gustafson showed a large number of pictures of her completed and current projects around the world. "Landscape is always bigger than architecture" and "The core essence of the site" were two expressions used by Ms. Gustafson concerning the importance of understanding the site thoroughly before working with the actual design. Together with her companions, she goes through layers and layers of information concerning the site - historical, sociological, geological and horticultural, all of which provide a framework from which to distill the actual concept for the site. This concept evolves then though different planning stages - sketches, models and plans - to the final result. I couldn't help thinking of Ms. Gustafson as a modern equivalent to Alexander Pope, who wrote his famous words "In laying out a garden, the first and chief thing to be considered is the genius of place" already in 1728.

I was very impressed by the extreme complexity of the projects, both technical and aesthetic. Ms. Gustafson's pictures about the 3-D models (or "prefigurations" as she called them, after Le Nôtre's similar models when planning the Versailles gardens, quite a modest comparison...) they build for each project were intriguing. One of these models, for the Princess Diana memorial in Hyde Park, London, was developed at a car manufacturers premises to design and test the flowing patterns of the water. At a large project in the Netherlands, the site had to be decontaminated for several years before the project could be built. And in the huge project of landscaping a waterfront and a water reservoir in Singapore, the level of technical detail must have been enormous. Of course, the budget of these projects must also be impressive, considering the scale, work and knowledge that goes into them.

Interest for this lecture was amazing. Just sitting in the dark theater together with 1200 other garden professionals and amateurs, I just thought what a good example it was of the star status landscape architects can reach in today's world. In the view of this, I loved the way Ms. Gustafson delivered her lecture; clear thoughts delivered with understated humor and with a good distance to the fame that she has acquired.

For exciting pictures and more about Kathryn Gustafson and her practices in Seattle and London, check out http://www.kathryngustafson.com/.

Evergreens everywhere

A Japanese inspired garden with evergreens. I love the little opening in the hedge, which shows the lake below but hides the house behind.

It is quite amusing to think about one of the most common wishes by the customers when I was doing garden consulting and design in Sweden. "Ingen barr! Jag hatar barrväxter! "No conifers! I hate them!" was often expressed with such a feeling, that I felt there was no point of starting to argue for them and their good qualities in the Swedish climate with a growing season of about 5 months and a long and relatively cold winter.

A sea of needles... genuine stuff from the 1960s in Clyde Hill near Seattle.

A well-kept garden from 1960s near Stockholm, in Sweden - soon to become a rarity? (Picture taken in winter).

 

This "allergy" for conifers is probably a reaction against many gardens made in Sweden in the 70's, full of Thujas and Junipers and now overgrown beyond any recognition of the original design. Of course, these gardens can (or could, as they are disappearing in fast pace as the new owners rip them rapidly out) be quite monotonous and static, with little to show the changing seasons. And they quite seldom can be described as romantic or sensuous, which is something that many of us expect from their gardens. But for the ease of management and year-around interest, there is few plants in the Northern climates that can beat these stalwarts of the winter garden.

A front border with conifers, Ericas, Rhubarb (!), ferns and grasses. A modern composition with good structure and year-around interest.

The nickname of Washington state, where Seattle is located, is "the Evergreen State", which is quite becoming when looking at the local gardens. Many of my previous customers would wince at the thought of square meter after square meter (or square feet...) of conifers, interspersed with other evergreens, as Rhododendrons (the state flower is Pink Rhododendron, Rhododendron macrophyllum), Pieris, Callunas and Ericas. The soil in Seattle is mostly acidic, which gives these plants excellent growing conditions.

Huge pine trees surrounded by native Salals and Rhododendrons.

Here as well as in Sweden, the garden styles have evolved since the 60's and 70's, from flowing, borders filled with evergreens. These gardens seem often been influenced by the Japanese (and maybe Chinese) gardens, which I found very appealing, as it complements the houses from this era quite well. In the best cases, the contemporary styles combine conifers with hardy perennials and grasses for an elegant and graceful effect. In the worst cases, rows of Thujas are used as impenetrable barriers for privacy or to stand in line by the driveway as unhappy soldiers. Just by doing a small round in the neighbourhood yesterday, I found several gardens with interesting use of evergreens and conifers. Some of these (as shown above) could probably be used as inspiration by gardeners in Scandinavia, some might just be a little bit too freakish for anything else than providing a little smile...

An example of cloud pruning? looks more like a bunch of green balloons...

These poor Junipers would clearly need a break - I wonder what kind of a family lives behind these tightly clipped conifers?

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Quote of the Day

In my nostrils still live the breath of flowers that perished twenty years ago.

- Mark Twain -

... or more than twenty; I just thought about my late grandfather, who asked me to smell a twig of Philadelphus flowers when I was 5 or 6 years old. He was almost blind, but he had been an avid gardener all of his life, growing day lilies, dahlias and agapanthus in Finland for more than a half century ago (he would have been 112 now if he still had lived). I still remember my surprise as he recognized the plant without barely seeing it. First later I realized how natural it would have been for him to orientate himself in the garden with the help of the most fragrant plants. He died when I was too little to really know him, but at least I know where my gardening genes come from.

A Touch of Japan in Seattle

What a beautiful autumn we are living through here in Seattle. It seems that the weather wants to make up for the miserable August... The sky is high, leaves are starting to colour and the warmth of the days keeps my thoughts away from the coming rainy and cold season.

The great blue heron.

We seem to have found a new favourite - a couple of times, my daughters and I have visited the Seattle Japanese Garden, which forms a part of the Washington Arboretum. There is something special to tempt the girls: a packet of fish food can be bought for one dollar at the gate, and then they can feed the koi/carps and small turtles swimming in the pond. As the garden is quite small, just 3.5-acres, so I can stroll around myself and leave the girls to the fish and the turtles. Also, on our first visit we were lucky to see the great blue heron hunting frogs amongst the waterlilies.

Turtles basking in the sun.

The Seattle Japanese Garden was designed in 1959-60 by Juki Iida, a designer of over 1000 Japanese gardens worldwide. He also supervised the building project, selecting more than 500 huge boulders by himself from the Cascade Mountains, wrapping them into bamboo mats to avoid damage during the transport to the gardens. He placed the rocks according to his plan and also arranged thousands of plants to represent different scenes found in Japan. There is also a small tea house, donated by the people of Tokyo and re-built after a fire in 1973.

As so many esthetically interested people, I do find Japanese gardens very appealing - serene, beautiful and timeless. I have visited several gardens in Tokyo, Kyoto, Nara and Kamakura, and found them completely breathtaking. I also have read about them and their symbolism, but I still always feel how limited my understanding about them is. Like so many of its finest expressions, the Japanese culture takes time to understand and to reveal its meanings. Sometimes I wonder if it really is possible to understand another culture and it's expressions without being born into it, or at least having lived within it for a long time. Cultures do take time; it is extremely difficult to change perspective from one's own and to be sensitive enough to catch the finer nuances of another.

Path with moss.

The Seattle Japanese Garden, like so many other fine Japanese gardens outside Japan, is a lovely reminder of the beauty of the original gardens. A graceful and even handsome achievement on its own, it still is only just that - a reminder that gives you a hint of how the real thing might be. And that, naturally, is unavoidable; just look at the huge conifers surrounding the garden and you directly know you are not even near Kyoto or Tokyo. And it is not just the vegetation, also the light falls differently here than in Japan.

An old, beautiful wisteria trellis.

Not wanting to sound too severe, there is always some of this in gardens made in different "styles" around the world - the English, the French, the Mediterranean, the Japanese, the Italian... the list is long. Private or public, these gardens often are like exotic pieces that are "neither/nor": they are neither part of their surroundings by blending in the natural and cultural landscape, nor convincing for the viewer as their environs directly give away the real location, disturbing the intended effect. And here we tread on dangerous paths... as much of the history of gardens of course is about how stylistic influences have been used and developed further by the garden designers and architects to suit the aesthetic and practical purposes of the gardens being created.

Despite the words above, a well executed garden, as the Seattle Japanese Garden and so many others, can give true pleasure for the visitor, without the costly investment in visiting the originals in their countries. They of course have an important role in learning their communities more about the faraway countries and their cultures. And by offering something that not many gardens in Japan do - that is, letting the children to feed the carps - the Seattle Japanese Garden hopefully even transfers the enjoyment of the Japanese garden art to the next generations.

Icons, connected

Thomas Church: El Novillero in Sonoma, California, pool with Adaline Kent's sculpture.

K

While reading the newest addition to my already too extensive collection of garden related books, Thomas Church's Gardens Are for People (published 1955), I suddenly noticed that I had never reflected over who made the beautifully flowing sculpture which forms the focal point of the iconic swimming pool in the Donnell garden called "El Novillero" in Sonoma, Northern California. This garden is probably the most well-known garden designed by Thomas Church, and it has become an icon of modern, Californian garden design. After the completion of "El Novillero" in 1948 pictures of it were widely published in popular magazines and professional journals, and it had a huge influence in the design of gardens and pools even internationally. In Garden's Are for People, I finally found the name of the sculptor: Adaline Kent (1900-1957), member of a group that sometimes has been called the "West Coast Surrealists".

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Alvar Aalto's Villa Mairea in Noormarkku, Finland, pool with organic form between the house and the sauna.

K

After some research on Adaline's work and life, I found a note about Church's visit to Europe in 1937. On that trip he met Alvar Aalto in Finland. A lot has been said about the influences for the pool in Donnell garden - for example, in Modern Gardens in the Landscape (1964), Elisabeth Kassler notes that the form was inspired by the winding creeks of salt marches seen through the frame of live oaks. But to me, the connection is there directly - obvious just by looking at the similarly shaped pool at Alvar Aalto's masterpiece Villa Mairea (1938-39) in Noormarkku, about 130 km North from my hometown Turku in Finland. Aalto was already working on Villa Mairea in 1937 when Church came to visit him, and Aalto's architecture with it's informal, organic, and curvilinear forms made a lasting impression on Church.

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Sauna and pool at Villa Mairea.

There they are, two of the most beautiful houses and gardens of the last century; both icons on their own. Their creators came to similar conlusions despite the different geographical locations - one in the warm Californian climate, the other on brink of the Arctic circle. Who was influenced by whom? Does it matter? Both are examples of the best of the 20th century modern architecture and design, by architects who were committed to creating beautiful and livable environments for their customers, and they both are timeless, as beautiful today as they were when they were designed.

Pictures are not taken by me this time: the first is by Kent Porter/The Press Democrat, the second found on the Internet for a long time ago (sorry about that), and the third by Joyelle.

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Later update: Marc Treib takes up this connection in his essay 'Maturity and Modernity', in the book 'Thomas Church Landscape Architect, Designing a Modern California Landscape' (William Stout Publishers, San Fransisco, 2003). This book, edited by Treib, is an excellent collection of essays, all examining Church's work from different aspects.

Meadows, meadows everywhere

Meadow gardening in Sweden in the 1930s. Picture by Sven A. Hermelin, published in Hem i Sverige 1935.

Meadow gardening has really taken off during the recent years and seems to create as much headlines here in the U.S. as it does in Sweden and other European countries. One of the most beautiful books in this area is the late Christopher Lloyd's "Meadows" (Timber Press, 2004), a captivating guide about how to preserve grasslands, and establish and maintain meadows. Of course, other excellent books exist, but I am a long time fan of Christopher Lloyd's writing, which always is extremely well-informed, entertaining and lively. (Sadly, he died just before my first visit to Great Dixter, and wandering there knowing he would never be gardening or writing again was a very sad moment. It is strange how some writers make you feel like you would know them personally - for me, I really felt like I had lost a close friend, even if I never met him).

Meadow at Great Dixter. The strictness of the huge Taxus topiary figures contrast so well with the dainty meadow flowers. And my daughters are taking in all the beauty.

Meadows as a gardening practice are decendants of two different origins: natural meadows, and a farming practice, which resulted in meadows. A natural meadow is a perpetual grassland - a habitat of rolling or flat terrain where grasses predominate. These grasslands are so called climax ecosystems that are capable of sustaining themselves; environmental factors restrict the growth of woody plants and therefore the grasslands are kept clean of shrubs and trees, which otherwise would succeed the grasses. Some typical environments for natural meadows are the alps, coasts, deserts and the prairies, all with harsh growing conditions (cold, wind, salt, heat, drought).

The meadow in my garden in Saltsjöbaden - kept in bay by the cold and salty winds from the sea, but still needing maintenance to keep out the unwanted invaders.

Meadows formed also as a result from the ancient farming practice of growing winter feed for the cattle on open land. The grasses were cut down in the end of the summer and carted away and their seeds were left on the fields, and so could regenerate the vegetation the following spring. Pastures are not really meadows as they are continuously grazed by animals that keep the grass short the whole season.

Beautiful, seaside pastureland with grazing sheep at Beachyhead, East Sussex; I warmly recommend it as a a wonderful place to visit.

Meadow gardening and "prairie style" gardening have been popular since the 1990's when Piet Oudolf's and Oehme & van Sweden's designs (only mention a very few) got a lot of space in the gardening magazines. And of course, Christopher Lloyd's many books, with beautiful pictures of lovely meadows have had an enormous impact. In my research for my first garden history thesis, I found some wonderful articles in Swedish gardening magazines from the 1930s promoting meadows in gardens, as the first picture above. During the 1930s, meadows as an agricultural practise was disappearing and many garden writers were worried about that the cultural and ecological environments would disappear as well. One of the most popular garden architects in Sweden during that time, Sven A. Hermelin, suggested using meadows instead of lawns in gardens, as they are more esthetically pleasing and give a larger biodiversity than the monotonity of a close-cut lawn. It just took another 60 years before his thoughts became popular... is nothing ever new in gardening?

A birds-eye view of the meadow towards the moat and the pavillion at Sissinghurst, with mown paths, roses and fruit trees in the grass. I took this picture from Vita Sackville-Wests writing tower.

Later update: see also my post European meadows, American meadows.

Black Sun

Black Sun by Isamu Noguchi (1969).

I've always loved Isamu Noguchi's designs - both furniture, sculpture and gardens. In front of the Seattle Asian Art Museum there is an excellent example of his work: the Black Sun from 1969. I love the heavy, flowing, organic form, contained within the eternity of the circle. And the little "bottom" seen at the right side of the circle (or maybe it isn't, but that's how I see it), it just adds a touch of surprise and wit to the massive sculpture.

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Displaying sculpture outdoors gives it an extra dimension. It seems that both the viewer and the work (sculpture, that is) can breath more freely when placed in open air. Or just as Tina writes on her blog The Garden Design Chronicle:

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"More often than not I find sculpture soothing. I’m not really sure why this is. I like the interaction the artworks have with the surrounding environment something that you really do not obtain in a gallery. There is no interaction. They are merely objects in space, demanding your full attention. Perhaps I like the fact that the outdoors reduces the artworks demands on you. I feel free to take them in or not. I feel free to eat a sandwich, read a book, close my eyes. None of which I can do in a gallery. A sculpture garden allows me to be human."

The view towards downtown Seattle makes a dramatic background to the Black Sun. I just wonder how it would look like on a more serene site, with lots of lush green around and waves of the sea quietly lapping behind it...? Anyway, The Noguchi Museum in Long Island City, N.Y. is high up on my "what to do during the U.S. years" list! (the sculpture garden is being renovated and will re-open in November 2008).

The Seattle Asian Art Museum seen throught the Black Sun.

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Quote of the Day

For fast acting relief; try slowing down.

- Lily Tomlin

(picture taken by me at Chelsea Flower Show 2007)