Philip’s Garden Blog

In the Moment, Rick Carpenter 2002

This is a garden about garbage.

This is a garden about art made from garbage.

This is a garden about recycling garbage that may save our planet. 

When I first heard that there was not only a garden at the dump, but that the city of San Francisco also sponsored an “Artist in Residency” program there, I knew that this was something I had to see.  The reaction from other people when I said I planned to visit a ”dump garden” was mixed. Some people said, “Cool” and other people wrinkled their noses, asking, “Will it smell?”  I set out on the third Thursday of the month when tours are given of the facility, the artist’s studios, and the sculpture garden to find out for myself. Would I be the only person there? I met with a good sized group that had gathered for the tour.

San Francisco is considered one of  America’s greenest cities and Mayor Gavin Newsom and the Board of Supervisors have enacted a plan to cut greenhouse gases in the city to 20% below the 1990 level by 2012. All kinds of people have come together in San Francisco to make practical changes towards sustainability in their personal lives, and in the community. Recycling garbage is certainly a way where an individual or a family can do something “hands on” to make a difference.

After a discussion of ecological concerns and about the work done at the SF Recycling & Disposal, Inc.’s Solid Waste Transfer and Recycling Center (affectionately known to those in the know as “The Dump”), we donned orange vests, protective glasses and hard hats (the explanation for the wearing of the hats was to prevent us from getting seagull poop in our hair. OK. Sounds good to me!).  On the way to the garden we headed into the garbage facility itself.

Standing in the garbage shed was my perfect idea of Hell. Odd bits of refuse continuously banged through a chute placed high up the wall adding to the pile, and yes, it stank. In a way, there was a kind perverse humor for me in this experience. I am known in my family as someone who will go to great lengths to avoid unpleasant things, and for the most part, my experience with trash is a tidy affair. We sort discarded things neatly in their color-coded bins and then it is taken away. Where this trash goes is rarely considered; refuse goes “out there”, to a landfill perhaps; a nether place far away.  In the presentation that commenced the tour, we discussed some pressing ecological “time bombs”. By becoming aware of the ”Great Pacific Garbage Patch”, I now know that garbage is in everyone’s face.

Eco Bomb, Francisco Perez Cardona 1991

Crossing the Pacific Ocean in 1997 after competing in a trans-Pacific yacht race, Captain Charles Moore discovered “The Great Pacific Garbage Patch”, a floating debris field two times the size of Texas. Formed by circular currents called Gyres, debris from the of the perimeter of the Pacific Ocean (garbage from the US, Japan and other nations) is drawn to the still waters of the center. This monstrous accumulation of trash chokes not only the surface of the Pacific, but hundreds of feet into the ocean’s depth.

Particles Dancing, Linda Raynsford 2000

“I want to say one word to you.  Just one word…plastics.”  This line from the 1967 film, The Graduate is to me like one of those prophecy twists from the ancient Greeks. Yes, there is a future in plastics because it never goes away: plastic stays around forever, becoming smaller and smaller, and ever more deadly.

Unlike natural debris which eventually degrades, plastic remains a polymer even at the molecular level. In the Great Pacific Garbage Patch photodegraded plastic particulates choke the upper water column. Fish ingest the plastic particulate, birds feed this to their chicks, and the plastic enters the food chain.

There is no consensus on how to clean up the massive Great Pacific Garbage Patch, but hopefully we can prevent it from from expanding. San Francisco has banned plastic bags from large stores such as supermarkets. This translates into 5 million fewer plastic bags every month. Other cities, nations have followed suit, or are considering a ban. In my house we now have a collection of re-usable canvas bags that we take with us every time we go shopping. It is actually quite easy to do, something practical in a small way that when done with others has a big impact.

Deborah Munk who led the tour pointed out this bale of paper collected for recycling. Deborah explained that a ton of paper like the one showed here was the equivalent of 17 to 24 trees.

I thought is was so fitting than an envelope from the Sierra Club was found in this bale.  One of the oldest grassroots environmental organizations in the United States, the Sierra Club was founded by the preservationist, John Muir.  Looking at the image of this paper bale after my visit, I had to call Deborah Munk again to confirm how many trees a bale like this would preserve. I imagined John Muir with his lanky, upright figure and grizzled beard standing before a grove swaying in the breeze; a grove of about seventeen to twenty-four trees.

Conehead Chairs, Norma Yorba 1995

San Francisco recycles an impressive 70% of its garbage. This can be compared to the city of Dallas, Texas which only recycles 2%.  In many places change and awareness of environmental concerns is begun by just one person. In San Francisco in the 1970’s the artist Jo Hansen began to sweep the litter strewn sidewalk outside her house and compiled journals of urban detritus. Her personal act of sweeping one sidewalk grew into a celebrated public art practice and citywide anti-litter campaign. As a vocal SF Arts Commissioner, Hanson suggested to Norcal Waste Systems, Inc. and the City of San Francisco that they develop an artist in residence program at the city dump, offering a studio and stipend for artists to create artwork from the waste stream to raise public awareness.

Deborah Munk explained that the artists in the program can only use items from the dump. Shopping carts are used by the artists to gather the materials that they will need assemble and create works of art. As the artists sift through the trash with their carts in tow, they say they are “going shopping”.

Stanley, Dana Albany 2003

A collection of sculptures created by the artists are displayed in the sculpture garden. Placed on the hill above the dump, the garden incorporates some plants rescued from the trash, and the paths were constructed from salvaged concrete from the old Embarcadero freeway that had been torn down after being damaged in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.  A show featuring the work of the current artists in residence, David King and Christine Lee is being held this January 23 & 24, 2009.

There are many gardeners that would say that a garden is strictly about plants. I have to admit I am entranced by flowers, striking plant combinations, edible plants, native plants and the like, and I relish and honor the horticultural expertise of the plantsperson.  I would argue that gardens have also been about The Idea: the yearnings of the collective unconscious.

The great Mannerist and Baroque gardens were expressions of temporal power; the sublimation of nature manifested as a triumph of civilization.  The landscape parks of the 19th century, as well as the “natural” gardens of Robinson and Jekyll can be seen as a reaction to the despoiling of the landscape during the industrial revolution:  an expression of the Arcadian ideal.  An art garden at a dump speaks to us now: with a planet in peril, each person, each family, every gardener can make a difference to save the Earth we love.

For further information and to visit the garden go to: www.sunsetscavenger.com

Garden tours are held for adults on the third Saturday of each month at 10:00 a.m. The tours are geared to those interested in knowing more about the AIR Program, and for those interested in applying to be one of  the artists. Tours also include an overview of the company and the garbage and recycling operations in San Francisco. For safety reasons, the tour is not appropriate for children under 8 years of age. To make a reservation for a Saturday tour, please call Deborah Munk at (415) 330-1415.

Movement, change, light growth and decay are the lifeblood of nature, the energies that I try to tap through my work. I need the shock of touch, the resistance of place, materials and weather, the earth as my source. I want to get under the surface. When I work with a leaf, rock, stick, it is not just that material itself, it is an opening into the processes of life within and around it. When I leave it, these processes continue.
      -Andy Goldsworthy, Sculptor, “The Spire”

 The forests of the Presidio are all planted by man and as such they are a cultural landscape: an artifact, naturalistic more than natural; the forest and The Spire re-iterate similar themes and re-enforce the other.
      -Peter Erlich, Forestry Manager, The Presidio Trust

 A towering new sculpture has been completed in San Francisco and is soon to be open to the public. Located on the highest ridge of the Presidio National Park and surrrounded by century old and recently planted Monterey cypress trees, “The Spire” is the most recent work by the British artist, Andy Goldsworthy. Known for his site specific works using natural, found materials such as rock, branches and snow, Goldsworthy created the 100 foot tall structure from the mature cypress trees on the site, felled at the end of their life span.

Last weekend  I enjoyed a tour of the site and forest from Peter Erlich, forestry manager for The Presidio Trust. I came initially to see the work by Goldsworthy, but in the end I became facinated by the history of the Presidio forest, its geology and challenges so enthusiastically shared by Erlich. Growing up near Manhattan, Erlich felt more at home along the Hudson River than he did among the skyscapers of that city. In 1968, like so many others of that generation who heard the clarion call, he came to San Francisco. It was here in Northern California, with its mountains and forests that Erlich, an English major, found poetry in the landscape. Graduating from the University of California at Berkeley in their Foresty program, Erlich eventually began to work in urban Forestry. As Forestry manager at the Presidio he oversees the re-forestation program there. Erlich is a man who loves trees and what he does, all the while quoting his favorite poet Yeats and the story of the remarkable urban forest that is the Presidio.

From 1776 to 1994 The northwest tip of the San Francisco peninsula was a strategic military base which guarded the Golden Gate, the natural portal to one of the world’s great natural harbors. Despite the spectacular views, a posting at the Presidio was considered a great hardship. Combined with damp fog, the winds of the Pacific sent sand from the dunes in a relentless drive to the base. Soldiers stationed at the Presidio complained of endlessly digging sand away from buildings, from the sand in their bunks and the sand in their food.

 

From 1886 to 1900, in a remarkable feat of horticultural endeavor, the army planted over a hundred thousand Monterey Cypress, Blue gum Eucalyptus and Monterey pines in the sterile sand of the Presidio. Plantings were placed on the high ridge to accentuate the topography as in the 19th century landscape manner. The establishment of these man made forests on these once barren dunes rapidly changed the climate of not only the Presidio, but of the growing city of San Francisco. With the wind and sand blocked from these new natural windbreaks, the Presidio  became the verdant landscape we see today.

The Forests of the Presidio are now coming to the end of their natural life span. Planted in a short 14 year period of the late 19th century, the forest does not have the mix of young and old trees which characterize a natural forest. While Eucalyptus continue to thrive, the Monterey cypress and Monterey pine are declining. Each year the trust replants two or three acres, staggering their efforts to create a healthy forest that can be sustained. Although these forests are not native, they have become an integral element of the park’s ecosystem, providing an important wildlife habitat. The trust has removed 150 of the dying cypress trees at the grove along the Bay Area Ridge Trail. These are the materials for Goldsworthy’s Spire. The trust will replant 1200 trees in this area in the next 10 years.

The Presidio plant nursery has taken on the task of propagating the tree seedlings. The process begins with germination in seed flats.The shoots are then placed in 5″ long tubes until they are ready for Stewey tree pots. This brand of pot is very tall. The typical one gallon pot creates circular roots, while the extended Stewey pots encourage long roots. These roots are just what the seedlings need to become established in the poor soils of the Presidio.

An collection of impromtu sculptures by anonymous artists, assembled from the scraps of lumber from the creation of The Spire, is located opposite the site on the Bay Ridge Trail.

The crew that  constructed The Spire, with Goldsworthy directing from below, is the same crew that is engaged in the forestry program at the Presidio. I think of this as the perfect metaphor for this art installation and shows the blending between the management of the forest and the creation of art.

The Spire by Goldsworthy is a kind of poem to the forest which surrounds it. Growth, decay and renewal are all suggested here. As the young plantings of cypress grow, the sculpture will become part of the larger forest setting.

 Eventually, The Spire will disappear into the forest.

Wayne Thiebaud, Street and Shadow, 1982-83, 1996 http://www.crockerartmuseum.org, Oil on linen
35 3/4 in. x 23 3/4 in. Crocker Art Museum, gift of the artist’s family

“Vertiginous.”
This is the way Wayne Thiebaud (the painter, not artist, he insists) describes the landscape of San Francisco. Various dictionaries define this word as having an aspect of great depth, drawing the eye to look downwards. A giddy precipice. Inducing a feeling of vertigo, dizziness or of whirling.  Alfred Hitchcock must have had the same thought in mind when he set his 1958 psychological thriller, Vertigo, in San Francisco. Against the backdrop of a gleaming cityscape James Stewart and Kim Novak play cat and mouse as they plunge their cars over the city’s precipitous streets.

There are other cities with hills and expansive views such as Lisbon and Hong Kong, but it is the imposition of a relentless grid of streets with a willful disregard for the terrain that gives San Francisco its unique quality. No discussion of gardens in San Francisco is complete without considering the city’s topography and layout. Behind the many densely packed wood-framed structures lie hidden small “pocket” gardens. Some are placed well below the dwelling, while others perch precariously above, accessed by winding wooden stairs.

Wayne Thiebaud, 24th Street Intersection, 1977. Oil on canvas, 35 5/8 x 48 in, Private collection, copyright Wayne Thiebaud

Wayne Thiebaud once lived down the street from me in the Potrero Hill neighborhood of San Francisco. I never did get up the nerve to borrow a cup of sugar (or a tube of Alarizon crimson) from him, but it was a source of neighborly pride that he was there, just the same.  Thiebaud’s paintings of mass produced pies and cakes vaulted him into the “pop art” scene of the 1950’s. With paint as thickly applied as the fillings and frostings he depicted, Thiebaud’s work revealed an optimistic regard for his subjects, and did not share the deprecating satirization seen in later pop art.  In 1973 Wayne Thiebaud moved to Potrero Hill, at the time a working class enclave of Russian and Eastern European immigrants. Located on the bay below downtown, this neighborhood of  low rents, sunny fog-free weather and spectacular views from its grid of plunging streets attracted writers such as Alan Ginsberg (who wrote Howl here), Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and the artist Robert Bechtle.

Potrero Hill where Thiebaud Lived is placed directly below the cityscape of downtown.

Inspired by the setting, Thiebaud produced paintings of fantastic cityscapes, with cliffs for streets punctuated by improbable gardens. All were executed using strong, saturated pigments reflecting the brilliant technicolor light of the city.

  
 Wayne Thiebaud, Down Eighteenth Street, 1980 Oil and charcoal on canvas http://hirshhorn.si.edu/

 

Thiebaud presents not a literal representation of San Francisco, but the idea of the city. Wayne Thiebaud describes the process of painting this series: I’ve always painted out of doors, with a french easel, some in the city, but not very much. So I started from the San Francisco intersection, and I remember one time painting on the street, and a nice man came along, an older fellow, and he stayed longer than most people would, and he watched, and finally he couldn’t resist, and he said, “I’ll be God-dammed. You are painting the intersection.” He couldn’t believe it. so I knew from the beginning I was in trouble.

After painting directly on the street, and making 20 or 30 pictures that way, I felt none of them were very successful. The reason for not feeling that they were delivering on what I had hoped for had to do with some sort of dramatic feeling in this particular San Francisco landscape, and the on-site works weren’t reflecting this. And during this time, I had a chance to talk to the critic Brian O’Doherty, and he was relating to me how Edward Hopper worked on his city pictures. He made lots of different sketches, watercolors, drawings, and then he put them together, like a stage set. So I thought I would try that and see if it might help. I went back to the studio, and began to make a lot of drawings with graphite or charcoal on paper, which I could move around a lot, kind of playing around with them. These drawings seemed to offer more of the visual feeling that was closer to the idea of San Francisco. So, when I returned to painting again, the city itself looked more like the composite drawings I had been making. An that dialogue between what was actually there and what was made up became the basis of the entire series
Wayne Thiebaud: Cityscapes
Exhibition catalog with an interview with the artist by Richard Wollheim. 52 pages with color reproductions. Published by Campbell-Thiebaud Gallery, San Francisco, 1993
http://crownpointpress.stores.yahoo.net/waythiebcit.html

Wayne Thiebaud Apartment Hill, 1980 http://www.nelson-atkins.org/ 

It is the San Francisco neighborhoods whose names end in “Hill” (Potrero Hill, Telegraph Hill, Russian Hill, and Nob Hill) where Thiebaud’s cityscape paintings come to life. In a walk I took recently up and down these hills, the glancing light of the late afternoon sun placed some streets in deep shadow, while the apartment towers on the summits were illuminated like signal beacons.



Tourists crowd six deep before the crooked Lombard street as they will do before the Mona Lisa. I want to ask “Haven’t you seen a winding street before?” Looking closer, however, at these families from India and France, those polite Dutch kids with their blond dreadlocks, I see that everyone is smiling, laughing and appear quite giddy. This is the city as amusement park.  The camera in my hand is nothing unusual on these streets. Indeed, because of it, I fit into the scene.



 As I continue my walk to Nob hill I come to suppose that in a Thiebaud cityscape we are all a brand of tourist, where what is real is so improbable that only the fantastic comes close to reality. San Francisco as depicted by Wayne Thiebaud blurs the concepts of truth and the idea, where the city itself becomes a kind of polychrome dreamscape.

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.