Philip’s Garden Blog

Growing up on the Monterey Bay, we and most people we knew, referred to San Francisco simply as “The City”. A visit here was an exciting prospect; a time to get dressed up, to go shopping, to visit a museum or see a show. And of course, a chance to enjoy a delicious meal in one of San Francisco’s famed restaurants. My family still lives near Santa Cruz, but I have lived for the last two decades in the city, and I have loved every minute of it.

In my business I meet many people from other parts of the country, and some have made comparisons about San Francisco with other cities. Some comments include that Dubai has more innovative new architecture, that New York has a more exciting nightlife, and that Vegas has better shows. To this I have replied that San Francisco “is really just a big village.”  The city is actually a collection of small villages, each with its own character and secrets. Tucked away in the dense urban landscape are neighborhoods joined by pedestrian-only lanes and stairways. I would love to share with you a recent walk I took with a friend. Some of these places are hidden gems, and others are well-worn on the tourist trail.  All have small pocket gardens and vistas which delight at every turn.

We begin our tour on the verdant stairway neighborhood in Russian Hill known as “Havens Place”.

San Francisco was once known as the “Gateway to the East”, and a Far Eastern aesthetic was incorporated with Western traditions early on. The interest in alternative ways of thought and living allowed the emergence of Eastern disciplines into the city’s culture. The Buddhist sculpture and other references is evidence of that influence here.

Protected from the prevailing winds off the Pacific and the Bay, subtropical tree ferns, palms and various species of bamboo flourish in the sheltered micro-climate.

There are many gardens tucked in and around Havens Place. A leading San Francisco plantswoman, Tova Wiley started the annual plant sale at Strybing Arboretum in 1967.

On my last visit, we were delighted to meet the owner of this lovely garden at the top of Havens place who invited us inside.

A gazebo, dry stonework and colorful perennial plantings re-inforce the “country in the city” quality of this area.

As we retrace our steps, tantalizing glimpses of the city emerge from the dense foliage.

A short jaunt from Havens Place is another pedestrian-only neighborhood, Macondray Lane. Considered the inspiration for the fictional  “Barbary Lane” in Armistead Maupin’s Tales of The City, the wooded enclave has had many literary associations. Mark Twain is said to have strolled here while courting the poet, Ina Coolbrith, in the 1860’s.

No. 15-17 Macondray Lane was installed in 1872 after being shipped from the East coast and “around the horn” of South America to San Francisco.

This has to be one of my favorite sights along this lane. I appreciate the contrast between classic architecture represented here by this balustrade and the inexorability of nature.

Above Macondray Lane is the summit of Russian Hill. The entrance to this enchanting enclave is approached by paired ramps with Beaux Arts balustrades. Built in 1915 by Willis Polk (1867-1924), the famed architect was also comissioned by the Livermore family to construct the townhouses shown here.

This house on Florence Place on the Vallejo Crest exhibits the origins of the Bay Area regional tradition in architecture. Contrasting sharply with the Victorian and eclectic wood frame revival styles being built in the city at the time, classical forms such as the portico shown here are incorporated with a shingled downswept facade.  I think the Lutyens bench is the perfect period touch, and the newpaper on the steps indicates this structure is enjoyed as a private residence today.

While I was enjoying the view looking southeast to downtown and the Transamerica Pyramid building, I heard the flock of wild parrots which make Russian Hill home pass overhead.

Panoramic views of the city, the bay bridge, Treasure Island and the East Bay hills beyond are enjoyed from the small park on the eastern side of the summit.

Looking south from the park is the achitect’s Willis Polk’s own home and studio. Built in 1892, the shingled structure was a double residence comissioned by the painter, Mrs Virgil Williams. Polk waived his professional fee in exchange for the eastern half of the property. Years ago I visited Polk’s residence on a house tour and was suprised by the different levels which cleverly hugged the hillside. The redwood interior is flooded with light, and this aerie commands close-up views of the downtown skyline with a breathtaking immediacy.

Looking north from the pocket park, luxury pre-war apartment buildings are part of the varied mix of structures which contributes to Russian Hill’s unique urbanity.
In the late 1920’s the legendary French designer Jean Michel Frank created a luxurious modern interior in the penthouse for millionaire Templeton Crocker. Considered one of the masterpieces of 20th century interior design, the penthouse combined modern forms with luxurious materials. Squares of parchment covered the walls and ceiling, whilst modern armchairs in white leather were placed with parsons tables, some fabicated in bronze and others covered in expensive shagreen.

On Green Street known as “The Paris block” a few brightly painted Victorians are similar to the type of structures which compose the city.

The house at 1055 Green Street has a facinating history. Originally built in 1866, the house was spared the flames of the great San Francisco fire of 1906. In 1915, the architect Julia Morgan (architect: Hearst castle) transformed the house into the Italianate villa we see today. Decades later the interiors were re-worked by the late elder statesman of San Francisco design, Anthony Hail. An enfilade of light filled well-proportioned rooms separated by tall double doors housed museum quality Russian, Scandinavian and French Neoclassic antiques. The rather quiet front facade gives little hint as to the true scope of the villa, the interiors of which came to epitomize the very best of the highly sophisticated taste and style of San Francisco.
The villa’s association with the best of design continued with later occupants, being recently featured in Architectural Digest with the work of the designer, James Marzo. It is interesting to note the fabric swatches taped to the windows in the image shown here suggesting a current design project.

Next door is the ”Feusier-Octagon House”, originally built in 1857. The Second Empire mansard roof was added in the 1880’s. Once considered a model design for healthful living, the San Francisco landmark is one of a few octagon houses which populate the city.

Across the street “Engine House #31  was built in 1907 as a firehouse following the San Francisco earthquake and fire.

Leaving Russian Hill and trekking through the colorful Italian North Beach district we come to Telegraph Hill. Coit tower, placed advantageously on its summit, can be admired from various vantage points in the city as we have seen.  To San Franciscans and its many visitors, the hill and its tower are seemingly interchangeable.

Departing from the commanding heights of the tower, we make our way to another pedestrian stairway neighborhood, the Filbert steps.

Unlike the other stairways we have traversed, there is nothing “secret” or “hidden ” about these descending walkways. On a recent visit we met people from all over the world enjoying this neighborhood’s ambiance. A friend with me said it was like visiting the United Nations considering the various languages heard. It was a wonderfully “only in San Francisco” kind of experience.

This particular section of the steps has a strong Mediterranean quality. The warm, dry summers and the cool wet winters which characterize the Mediterranean climate model, along with the sheltered position of this location, allows glorious displays of Bouganvilia sp. and other frost tender species to thrive.

Leaving this section of the Filbert steps, we can view an Art Deco apartment building immortalized as the residence of Lauren Bacall and the sanctuary of Humphrey Bogart in the 1947 film noir classic, Dark Passage.  I can just imagine the period streetlight amidst swirling fog with the vintage sounds of foghorns.

At night, Coit tower is lit by floodlights.  Combined with the atmosphere of evening fog, the tower is a comforting presence.

San Francisco, along with places like Grenwich Village in Manhattan ,were in the last century havens of Bohemia;  artists, writers and thinkers who rejected the status quo found a place of great beauty and intellectual ferment here. Two world class universities were established near the city in the late 19th century: The University of California at Berkeley  and Stanford. The funding and the rivalry of these two institutions cannot be underestimated in the grounding of the Bay Area as an intellectual center. The development of computer innovations and the internet was naturally born in this free and innovative milieu.

In the 1930’s a remarkable woman named Grace Marchant lived  here at Filbert Steps and Napier Lane. Disgusted by the trash and neglect on these hillsides, Grace Marchant personally moved mountains of refuse including old bed springs and household junk, planting trees and flowering shrubs which flourish today.

Today the garden is treasured by the Telegraph Hill residents who have maintained the garden and insured its survival on a difficult, sloping site.

On the bright sunny morning when we recently visited these steps, the aroma of fresh coffee drifted from this terrace.

Here at the intersection of the Filbert Steps and Napier Lane is a good place to sit on the hand-made bench and commune in  the sheltered setting. The colorful wild parrots which we heard on Russian hill have made this their primary home and dart among the buildings and branches.

Sitting on the bench we can see the gate to the garden itself.

The gardens are completely organic, and mass plantings of drought tolerant species conserve water and prevent erosion.

It is hot now in the Marchant gardens. The fragrance of rose is heady.

Sitting in this garden at the end of our walk, I was reminded of how much I love living here. The city is not without its share of urban problems, but living here has proved to be as exciting and fun as visits were in my youth. I am still discovering things about the city I call home, where a hidden garden is around every corner.

In comparing the portrait of Marisot by Manet and the artist’s own self portrait, important differences can be discerned. Manet (not to be confused with Monet) depicts a woman of direct charm and beauty; a woman whose compelling qualities are set off by her costume all in black. There is an underlying eroticism at play here. In Morisot’s self portrait the artist stands upright; her expression is forthright and without guile. Frippery such as costume and their props are deemed unneccesary to reveal truth.

 
Born into the  Haute Bourgeois, Berthe and her sister Edmé were given art lessons as a natural course of instruction for certain young women of the day. What set them apart was the dedication to their art beyond conventions; a determination beyond all odds to utilize it in art,  taste and new ways of expression. In 1858 Madame Morisot inspired her daughters to paint. She desired that the girls take art lessons so that they could present a birthday gift to their father. She sent them first to the academic painter Geoffrey Alphonse Chocarne who focused his teachings on drawing, and soon afterward to Joseph Benoît Guichard, a former student of both Ingres and Delacroix. Edmé and Berthe enthusiastically applied themselves to his instruction. Under Guichard’s tutelage, the Morisot sisters began to journey to the Louvre in order to study the old masters first hand.

After three years of studio work under the supervision of Guichard, Berthe decided that she wished to study the plein air motif under master landscapist Corot. Edmé joined her sister with these weekly lessons. As part of Corot’s instruction, the family embarked on summer-long painting trips to picturesque locales. In 1862, they rode mules through the Pyrenees. In order to accommodate these expeditions, the Morisot family organized their holidays around Berthe and Edme’s art work for there was no question that the two would have set off on such an experience unchaperoned.

In this painting, we can infer much: the desire to reach out to the outside world, even though it is the cloistered terrace of the home. The subject’s ribbons are like a yoke, the fetters now broken and free and in the same value as the bars to the right of the composition. The cumbersome dress is held up in a natural way, a subtle protest towards the lack of freedom of movement in dress. In this painting, what at first seems a charming scene, is in fact a manifesto for the emancipation of women.

In a personal breakthrough of subject and style, Morisot defines the Impressionistic method with this revolutionary painting, executed in triumphant plein air. All is conditioned by light and natural effects. The viewer is no longer dispassionate, but one with the atmosphere. There is no horizon line, no mythological “other” to inform the scene but what it is: a modern wet nurse and a child. The honesty of this composition and painterly approach cannot be underestimated.  

Morisot produced many paintings of varied scenes. I have selected a few of those which relate to the garden. In her mature work there is a dynamic painterly approach which adresses Morisot’s concern with capturing the ephemeral.

In this remarkable pastel on paper, Morisot treats her subject, pears on pendulous, leafy branches, by dispensing with the subjective; these pears are not a literal representation, nor, indeed an Impressionist reflection. Here, Morisot takes the great conceptual leap of the artist in depicting the idea of pears. In this composition of color and line, Morisot has prefigured the 20th century concern for abstraction in art, and in doing so takes her place in the canon of not only Impressionistic art, but in the revolutionary approaches in thought and the depiction of modern art to follow.

In one of my favorite works by Morisot, the artist is personally direct in this self portrait with her daughter with an economy of line and shade on unprimed canvas. A tour de force of meaning and truth, Morisot deconstructs the process of painting to its most elemental.

The gardens depicted in the paintings by Berthe Morisot always include the family: mothers and children, at times fathers and friends. The immediacy and experience of the natural world is what is celebrated here; the comfort and delight that a garden setting affords to families, and a platform for the artist is what had meaning for Morisot. The ideas found in Berthe Morisot’s paintings are eternal and relevant, and can yet inform us today.

Le harem dans le Kiosque  Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1870
In the vast estates and gardens of the European nobility, “follies” of Turkish tents and pavilions studded the landscape. Bal masques and tableaux vivants with Europeans in “Tatar” costume were among the lavish garden entertainments. Academic painters of the 19th century found a fascinated public who reveled in scenes of the seraglio, the exotic genre scene, the Odalisque.

Today such attitudes may seem incomprehensible.  Terrorism and jihad, the conflict between Sunni and Shia, the Iraq war and our own uncertain place in these events is deeply troubling. Compounded with this is an evolution in our own psychology that the “Orientalists” are guilty of the worst kind of colonialism and are in fact quite distasteful.

I would suggest that in examining the past in art and garden design we need to adjust our perspective from our own present view, and attempt to ”place ourselves in the shoes” of the artists and great thinkers of the time at question. What I have found is that the proponents of the “Orientalist” movement of the 18th-19th century were in fact attempting to expand the arts and knowledge of their time. It was an artistic movement of visual delight and indeed, respect for the culture of the Near East.

The defeat of the Ottoman empire in the battle of Vienna in 1683 presaged European primacy in the Balkans and the rise of the Hapsburg empire. The spoils of war, tents, textiles, musical instruments and especially, coffee, created a sensation among the Europeans eager for new products. In 1704 Antoine Galland published the first french translation of The Arabian, or “One Thousand and One Nights ”Les Mille et Une Nuits, contes arabes traduits en français and the passion for the Turquerie in art and fashion began. The piquancy of the style soon found a venue in European gardens.

In the Mysterious and almost surreal garden of Desert de Retz, a Turkish tent resides on “The Island of Happiness” amidst rampant verdure. Located west of Paris, the garden was designed between 1774 and 1789 by Francois Racine de Monville. A garden in the English manner, the property once had nearly twenty follies  such as pyramid, a temple to Pan, and a column house.

Designed in 1971 as guest quarters by the French design firm, Jansen, for the Shah of Iran, luxurious tents were placed near the ruins of Persepolis. Ostensibly to celebrate the the 2,500th anniversary of the founding of Persia, the whole affair populated by world leaders and the super rich was so over the top in extravagance that it is considered the precipitating incident which eventually led to the overthrow of the Shah and a causa belli for the Islamic revolution.

Turquerie and all its forms may seem out of date today, yet it is worthwhile considering examples from the past not only for their aesthetic appeal, but for understanding how social conditions, commerce and events shape the arts, and indeed our own gardens today.

I would love to share one of my favorite neighborhood walks.  My family has a house on Depot Hill, above the village of Capitola. This neighborhood of cottages, some from the 19th century, is perched above the Monterey Bay. Surfers lay on their boards and sea kelp drifts in the calm water below the cliffs. The bay extends in a great arc southwards to the Monterey peninsula. The Monterey mountains are a purple silhouette against the sky and at night the bay is ringed by glittering lights.

After lunch in the garden we always take a walk, first to the cliffs. There is almost no automobile traffic as there are just a few dead end roads on the hill. Perfect for strolling in the middle of the street.

Grand Avenue which runs along the cliffs has no traffic at all as parts of it have tumbled into the bay below! The cliffs are are always eroding, but for now Grand Avenue is a pedestrian walkway, with benches placed along the few blocks to enjoy the view.

This border is graced by sculptures fashioned from driftwood dragged up the cliffs from the rocky shore below.

Turning left we come across this colorful garden.

This cottage was once the minister’s house for the church next door.

        On Cliff Avenue, a trumpet vine (Campsis radicans)  creates a spectaular display.

One of my favorite houses, I have always appreciated its tidy and old-fashioned quality.

                       

 

The village seen here from Cliff Avenue was a great place to watch fireworks being set off from the pier.  Depot Hill with its quiet streets, cottages with front porches, and flowering gardens with picket fences has such a nostalgic air; a kind of perpetual summerland, where every day is the Fourth of July.

Thank you for taking this stroll with me.

Happy Fourth of July!