Philip’s Garden Blog

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.

The garden retreat prior to the 19th century had been for the most part the province of the priviledged nobility. Solitary intellectual pursuits were not excluded, but the forms were generally of convivial pleasure.

The industrial revolution of the 19th century led not only to an evolution of the social order, but coincided with the Arcadian ideal; the appreciation of the natural world, for rusticity, and for the cult of the individual.  For writers of the period, especially of the late 19th and early 20th century, these forces came together in “the writer’s hut”.  A new kind of hermitage, the writer ’s hut ,was by definition a small structure, perhaps big enough only for one person, where the writer could work undisturbed surrounded by nature.

 So much has been written over the years about Virginia Woolf and her milieu, that I shall not attempt that here.  Instead, when looking at the interior of her room, I imagine Virginia sitting at the desk, taking off her eyeglasses.  Does she gaze through the doorway to the garden beyond? Tucked in the corner, a folding garden chair with its striped canvas speaks of summers past.  It was here that Virginia wrote her last note to Leonard, at once a poignant plea for help and a testament to love.

Dickens had a tunnel constucted beneath the road which separated the estate from his chalet. The cool mossy tunnel became an atmospheric and psychological transition between his troubled household and private retreat.  Charles Dickens died on a summer’s day in 1870 whilst at his desk in the chalet writing his unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood.
 
Dylan Thomas wrote of his writing hut in Laugharne, Wales “My study, atelier, or bard’s bothy, roasts on a cliff-top.”  The hut or “Boathouse” commanded views of the tidal flats and surrounding estuaries.

The interior of the boathouse was decorated with an assemblage of magazine cuttings and paintings by artists such as William Blake and Modigliani.  Lists of word alliterations, beer bottles, dictionaries and numerous drafts littered the space in a creative ferment.

By peering into the private garden sanctuaries of these authors, I feel I have come to know them in a way that they never completely shared with the public. Like his charming children’s stories, Roald Dahl looks as “snug as a bug in a rug” in his private sanctuary. Dylan Thomas’ boathouse says to me that living life itself can be messy, and yet in the process, inspiring. I cannot help but think of Dickens in a kind of child’s playhouse, enjoying what must have been lost in his own childhood. Shaw’s hut shows me that he, although brilliant, treasured simplicity. And Virginia Woolf… I thought her hut was quite direct and contemporary. I keep thinking of that garden chair in the corner. It seems to me a talisman of hope.

It is the respective author’s true qualities of character and private nature which are revealed in the writer’s hut:  in a room of their own.
 

When we hear the word “casino” today, we naturally think of gambling. The weird cacophony of slot machines comes to mind, as does the marketing phrase ” What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”. In 16th century Rome, however, the casino had a different meaning entirely.

The restoration of the papacy to Rome in the 15th century saw the return of the leading noble familes to the beleaguered city. Much like the counterparts on the continent, the “Princes of Rome”, the cardinals, sought to consolidate their wealth and political influence. Vast estates were carved from the ancient ruins and vigne, small market gardens of the Medieval period. The fortified estate gave way to the expansive villa, combining the economics of farming with pleasure grounds in imitation of their classic predecessors. Rome was once again the center of power, but it was to its environs that the wealthy and powerful  retreated to escape the heat and miasma of the city.

Begun in 1566 in Bagnaia, the Villa Lante is attributed to one of the great Mannerist architects of the period, Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola.  The exaggerated, self conscious theatricality which so characterized the Mannerist style is supreme at Villa Lante. On the lower level, paired casini or small villas rest above a parterre of clipped box. Elaborate water courses, pools and basins which grace the property are a triumph of hydraulic engineering. The higher levels of the garden are forested and planted with flowering shubs concealing mossy grottos with the sound of dripping water. It was here in the upper reaches of the complex that Vignola built a casino (from casina, or little house) to enjoy the summer breezes and shady prospect. Much imitated in the following centuries, Vignola’s casino at Villa Lante is considered a model of classical perfection.

In the Vatican Gardens in Rome, a contemporary of Vignola, Pirro Ligorio, built a Casino for the pope known as casino Pia Vi or Villa Pia. Ligorio had worked with Vignola at the Villa Lante and was a passionate authority on Roman antiquities. Executed in high Mannerist style, the casino is a tour de force of spatial arrangement, classical orders and adorment.

The Casinos of 16th century Rome were not only sybaritic pleasure pavilions, but an expression of power and erudition. Infused by the philosophy of Humanism which embraced the learning of the ancient Romans and Greeks, the architects and their clients sought to recreate the classical ideal. Today in examining the period, one is tempted to “place oneself in their shoes” to gain a better understanding and perpective. How they must have marveled at the splendid ruins and wondered how all of that could have been lost?

Located in the temperate vale of Kashmir outside Srinagar on the Dal Lake, the region was a summer retreat from the heat of the plains. It was here in 1616 that Jahangir, Persian meaning “Conqueror of the World,”  created a pleasure garden for his beloved wife, Nur Jahan. By all accounts possessing remarkable beauty, intelligence and will, Nur Jahan “light of the world.” wielded vast imperial power in her own right.  A brilliant court was established and it was during their reign that the artistic achievements of the Mughal empire came into full flower. The gardens of the Shalimar Bagh was the setting for courtly entertainments, lavish with wine favored by Jahangir, and poetry contests instituted by Nur Jahan, herself an accomplished poet. Accounts tell of moonlit soirees,  accompanied by the sound of fountains and the heady fragrance of perfume made by Nur jahan from her own formula.

The Mughal gardens were enclosed spaces much like the European Medieval counterpoint, the hortus conclusus. The Persian word paridaida meant to enclose or an enclosed garden, and the word was translated eventually into English as “paradise”. This concept was utilized in the Shalimar Bagh along with another Persian form, the chahar bagh. In this garden arrangement, a walled garden was divided into four equal parts, with the central feature being a fountain or pool. Here at Shalimar, this approach is relaxed, with elements such as pools tranformed into wide watercourses with cascades, flanked by tall chenna trees and expansive lawns with flowering plantings.

The overall plan of the Shalimar Bagh echoed palace architecture with a hierarchal division from the public sphere (the lowest part of the garden) to the middle section for the Emperor and his friends. The highest part of the garden was reserved for the Empress and ladies of the court. It was here that the Black Pavillion, crowned by its tripartite roof ,was surrounded by basins issuing numerous fountains. Lamps in niches illuminating the scene at night created a scintillating atmosphere.  The Shalimar bagh was renown for its flowers, and Jahangir’s court painter  Nadri al Asi painted exquisite depictions of kashmiri flowers such as the rose, jamine and champa.

After the collapse of the Mughal dynasty, the allure and romance of the Shalimar Bagh held the British Raj in it’s thrall. Glimpsed from houseboats on lake dal, the gardens were once again celebrated in verse:

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar,

Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?

Whom do you lead on Rapture’s roadway, far,

Before you agonise them in farewell?

Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains,

Holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell,

How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins

Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell.

Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float

On those cool waters where we used to dwell,

I would have rather felt you round my throat,

Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!

Amy Woodforde-Finden, 1901

I have to admit I love garden retreats. I have a very modest one. We think it is great fun.
 
The rudimentary place I call “the teahouse” simply incorporates as its structure the wall of the house and a tall  retaining wall placed at a right angle. The roof is the deck above. The other two”walls” are matchstick blinds which can be adjusted to filter the light and create a door. A pair of french garden chairs and a built-in shelf face the garden and city view beyond. I suppose I could embellish this place further beyond the simple structure and the odd assortment of lanterns, but if it is effective, why fight it?
Garden retreats are neither here nor there; they exist outside conventions. They have no apparent domestic use, and indeed the concerns of daily life and its functions are to be eliminated entirely. The garden retreat exists for pleasure.

Providing shelter from the elements, the garden retreat yet also welcomes the natural air and breezes.  To observe a rainstorm whilst in the retreat is one of life’s great pleasures. It is this ability to be in the garden and yet away from distractions and the eyes of others which allows the mind to wander, to meditate and to refresh one’s spirit that is at the key of the garden retreat.

The Mughal pavilion, the Japanese teahouse, The Italian Renaissance casino, the summerhouse  and my own retreat may be separated by culture, geography and time, yet all are expressions  of the same impulse, and the enjoyment found therin is shared by all.

A concept dating from before the 12th century, the bower( from old English bur) was a delightful feature of the Medieval Hortus conclusus or enclosed garden. Often a shelter made of tree branches and twining vines, the bower was a way to immerse onself in nature, away from prying eyes and temporal distractions.

http://www.cityofwinchester.co.uk/parks/eleanor/eleanor.html

Willow elements needed to create your own bower can be purchased here: http://www.thewillowfarm.com/willow_landscape_achitecture.htm
Or construct your own personal Bower with bamboo poles and a summer climbing annual such as pole beans or a gourd vine!