I found myself ruminating on the French concept of the 'Flaneur' or as Wiki defines it, an urban explorer or connoisseur of the street. As I age, I am of course slowing down a bit, and can see myself as somewhat of a 'Boulevardier' as they say, watching my surroundings more closely and having - dare I say it, the perspective to appreciate the work of those around me, of our talented staff and the camaraderie of other design professionals. I had the opportunity to travel recently, a whirlwind three-week tour of Europe by car with my wife and three kids. My 'children' are hardly that anymore - with the older two college age, our oldest having just graduated. With the fleeting thought of the nuclear family in mind, we set out to take what may be one last 'just-us' trip - and saw some amazing architecture, wandered in lovely gardens and spent some fine time together. It got me thinking about our modern hectic world, and the fact that we don't take enough time to walk where we need to go and pause enough to enjoy the landscape around us. The eroding time we have with our family is much like the effect of time on the gardens we create, as - without attention - our environments become unruly and chaotic. And so, I was conscious and am still - about my need to be more of a Flaneur - refining and redefining my focus.
Methinks we would all agree that attention spans are diminishing, as our net-based narcissystem demands instant gratification and the comfort of black and white thinking. But our world is of course many faceted and multi-colored in a way that, if ignored - will eventually demand our attention with sudden calamity or a creeping recognition of regret. Gardens in particular are a study in slow-time, and as landscapers and horticulturalists, we have a saying about patience as we wait for our plants to fill in; "the first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps…and the third year it leaps". I tell many of my new clients that if our planting design is implemented correctly, you will likely feel an immediate need for "more plants', because the material has been spaced adequately for growth. Time evolves a landscape in a way that speaks to us of our own mortality of course, as the turn of the seasons parallels the arc of our own time. Having decades in this vocation, I have had the rare opportunity to revisit my own works from years past and to see how they have evolved, for good and bad. I have learned a bit about the environment and the hubris it takes to try to "recreate" it. Nature might 'laugh in flowers', but it also abhors the simplistic, but well meant ideas around permaculture, because - as we know - the only permanence is change itself.
Botany speaks to us in the metaphor of bloom on old wood, the continuity of tree rings and the pigments of the seasons. Designs of course benefit and improve when the concepts are allowed to slow and gestate and, (as no-one has a hammerlock on creativity) more innovative thinkers can input ideas. This is of course an argument for designing in Fall for a Spring installation, so that you can spend a lot of time with the ideas, witness the most drastic of seasonal changes and emerge fresh and in time for transplanting in late Winter.
That said, I do tend to overplant perennials and yes - impulsively buy the newest thing in bloom for my own home. As Ann Lovejoy said about packing in the perennials, "You only live once", so in that way, I am hardly the boulevardier…
