You know you’re a parent when spring “break” is busier and more stressful than being at work. Having a five-year-old boinging around the house all day CAN be fun, but also makes it hard to squeeze in even a short blog piece, let alone something longer and thoughtfully composed.
So this li’l update will have to suffice. In addition to being busy with my son, I’ve also been pre-occupied with watching my 30-year-old deck get ripped out. Whoo-hoo! Here’s a couple of before pictures:
“Human place in nature” is a topic I’m semi-obsessed with right now, and though it seems sorta esoteric, I think the issue has huge implications for gardeners and designers.
Here’s what got me all stirred up this time.
I just finished showing the 2005 film Grizzly Man to my English classes as part of a unit on documentary film. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s the story of the life and death of Timothy Treadwell, a self-proclaimed “kind warrior” who lived with the Grizzly bears in Katmai, Alaska for 13 summers in order to study and protect them.
Grizzly Man Theatrical Release Poster
Although Treadwell had a genuine love for animals and appeared to have better relationships with the bears than with other humans, he was actually killed and eaten by a Grizzly in October 2003.
Treadwell’s violent and somewhat ironic death is part of what makes the film fascinating, as is the question of whether he was a courageous hero or a lunatic narcissist. But as I was watching the film with my classes this week, I was more intrigued by something else.
The director of the film, Werner Herzog, clearly felt that Treadwell was — if not a lunatic — at least a misguided idealist. Though he might have had some sympathy for Treadwell, Herzog did not share the “kind warrior’s” warm fuzzy feelings about the natural world. In his narration of the film, Herzog makes some bone-chilling statements about nature — statements that are in direct opposition to Timothy Treadwell’s romantic view of wilderness. After a segment of the film in which a male grizzly kills a cub, Herzog reflects:
“I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder.”
When Treadwell looked into the eyes of a Grizzly, he saw a kindred spirit, a friend, a brother. Herzog saw no such thing, just “the overwhelming indifference of nature.”
Ahhhhh, the joys of gardening with children! How lovely to watch their sense of wonderment! To see them skipping and frolicking in the flowers! To observe with pleasure as they learn to nurture and respect the earth!
Here is a photo of my dear son, at age two, helping me plant a pot of herbs. Isn’t he just adorable with his pudgy little hands and his tiny plastic watering can? What a tender scene…helping Mommy water the plants! Isn’t it all just so sweet?
Okay, maybe not all.
An Artsy Garden
http://www.telegraph.co.uk
Thanks so much to all who commented on my last post, regarding the question of whether gardens and designed landscapes belong in the world of “art.” Opinions were varied, with some suggesting that, “of course garden design is an art, you fool!” and others saying that they didn’t much care what sorts of labels were assigned to the practice of garden design, romping around in the world of semantics is for suckers, man.
But what came through loud and clear is the passion that so many of you have for the art (or craft if you prefer) of garden-making.
Before I move on from the issue, though, I want to throw a related question out there:
Should there be more serious criticism of landscapes and gardens?
Art? Or merely Design?
The Highline, NYC http://www.inhabitat.com
When I’m not working, cleaning dishes, or yanking weeds, I like to kick back with a stiff drink and contemplate the differences between Art and Design. I’ll admit, before I began my study of landscape design five years ago, I really did not have much exposure to the world of design — certainly not visual design anyway. Except for one desktop publishing course, my college English courses were almost exclusively studies in poetry, fiction, and drama, all squarely in the “artsy” realm of language known as “literature.”
Mary's forsythia hedge
Now is as good a time as any to talk about forsythia.
If you live in zone 7, it’s just popped out in all its tacky gold glory, and is either splaying all over the place in a spectacular tangle or — more likely — it was sheared into a giant egg shape in the fall by some doofus (possibly your spouse) so now it can’t fully express its brazen forsythiosity.
This groovy wave thing was at the center of a million square feet of contrived awesomeness! http://www.uwishunu.com
Susan Cohan’s recent post about the difference between “Flower Shows” and “Home and Garden Shows” started some rusty gears turning in my brain. Apparently, some folks argue that the Philadelphia Flower Show is too artificial for their taste, that the floral displays are outrageously impractical, self-consciously artsy, mere theater.
The heck you say???
Black Walnut Dispatch 
