First published 2000. Phaidon paperback, 2000, pp 512, 500 illustrations with a paragraph about each.
The introduction states: ‘The Garden Book is a comprehensive illustrated survey of 500 of the world’s most influential garden makers – designers, patrons and owners – and their gardens.’ [p3] The editors have carefully chosen their words but perhaps are over-egging them. Quite a few of these gardens no longer exist: some are just a few stone blocks of what was once hard landscaping, some are only know through plans, texts, or paintings. The editors have also had to make choices as to who the garden maker was and have often plumping for the owner, who may or may not have had much involvement with the design. Thus we have amongst ‘the world’s most influential garden makers’ an ancient Egyptian Queen, a Greek philosopher, a Roman dictator, a 16th c. Japanese painter, a Moorish sultan, ‘Judeo-Christian God’, an Ecuadorian graveyard attendant, a British iron founder, a sculptor who had a few pieces plonked down outside, an American architect of a sublime house who didn’t alter the surrounding plants. Alongside them are the famous recognised garden makers such as Capability Brown (more a garden destroyer perhaps), Kobori Enshu, Gertrude Jekyll and André Le Nôtre.
The entries are ordered by the name of the ‘garden maker’ which makes for some strange juxtapositions, for example Saint-Phalle [p396] and Salisbury [p397]. The former is an eccentric, glossy, glittery set of childish sculptures set in a tangled Tuscan landscape. The latter cool, highly regimented and tightly controlled formality. Whatever your taste, there is something here to admire and something to loath.
Each entry consists of a single image, often a photograph, but sometimes a painting or just a plan. There is a short (c. 120 words) explanatory test with each and a footnote gives the dates and place (where known) of the garden maker and the original garden. The illustrations vary in quality: that Salisbury entry is accompanied by a gorgeous photograph taken in winter with a frost whitening the trees. Others are quite poor, for example Peto’s garden at Iford [p355] does little justice to one of the great English gardens – the box needs clipping.
Sometimes the text shows up the pretentiousness or lack of thought of the designer. For example Smyth who is quoted as saying ‘I like the anonymity and modernity of materials. They shouldn’t be too animated like terracotta, brassor gold, which are like busy, noisy animals. In order to create serenity and spatial quality you have to reduce the personality of the materials.’ [p423]. Try telling that to Ashikaga, the creator of Kinkaku-ji, one of the mostly sublimely serene gardens ever created. [p26]. Smyth’s garden shown here has its merits but completely belies his statement: the modern materials totally and uncompromisingly dominate the composition. He should just have said ‘I like the anonymity of modern materials’ and left it at that.
What makes a great garden, or even an influential one? Money and time help. A great location is useful. An understanding of plants is a requirement. Beyond that? Well on this take, almost anything goes. Fashions change, climate and geography vary around the world. Who has the wealth usually sets the taste of the day. But good taste endures as we can see from Japanese and Chinese gardens many centuries old. We can get an idea what a few classical Roman gardens were like and some of those remain models to this day. Some gardens look dated almost the day after they are made (most Chelsea exhibits for example).
What we have here is a wonderful source of inspiration and entertainment. Any garden designer, of large or small scale, can pick up ideas from this huge and diverse collection. It would also be useful to those seeking out interesting gardens to visit. An appendix helpfully orders the gardens by country; 53 countries are listed.
© William John Graham, February 2023