Fallen Fruit  are an artist collective from L.A. They map all the fruit street trees in invited neighbourhoods and public spaces and then distribute them in time for harvesting. Whilst fruit trees get people excited as they can trigger memories and primal responses, these maps are also a clever way of getting people to look at citizenship and their own spaces in a different light.

I’m not sure there’s too much more to Fallen Fruit other than that. But by itself it’s a symbolical gesture that manages to evoke a whole movement of people, whether they see themselves as artists or community gardeners, who have jumped the safety of the walled orchard and into the wilderness of the city.

Back in London Mikey Tomkins has put together ‘An Edible Map of South Hackney’ for Space Gallery. This map asks you take another look at what’s visible but often ignored in your neighbourhood. We are guided through streets and alleyways and asked to open our eyes to the vast amount of redundant space in what is presumed to be a densely populated environment. But then the map leads you to residents who are starting to take the land into their own hands. For example, there are first generation Bangladeshi families who live on the ground floors of the estates that are practicing a productive form of forest gardening. At first it’s quite odd seeing these ramshackle supports, made of old beds and industrial-size mayonnaise pots engulfing entire front gardens. But now there’s healthy respect, instead the ridicule is deflected on to the inaccessible hectares of estate and public lawns protected by black railings.

Treated as a whole the lawns, garage roofs and idol tarmac could feed the 1,425 residents of South Hackney a rich, varied diet. But will it happen or is this just a trend? The rhizomatous nature of these emerging plots suggest that this could be just the beginning, in fact well organised urban wine and honey co-ops already exist to support them. Interestingly, just as some ‘graffiti’ is now retained as ‘street art’ the council haven’t chosen to remove any of these ‘guerrilla’ forest gardens.

It’s not surprising that it’s being called ‘psychogeographic food’. The unpredictable landscape of East London is rich hunting ground for pscychogeographers. And it’s this re-evaluation of the urban landscape and human relations, explored through both the serious and playful strategies on this map, which unites all these plots.

 

Templeman Harrison London Garden Design

Some articles and books provide a much needed shot in the arm for the reader’s day-to-day design practice. They make you believe you might just be in the right place at the right time, and these recommendations make you feel just that.

First of all is Daryl Moore’s article for the Garden Design Journal from September 2009, where by mapping out “the paradigm shift [that] has been apparent in the art world in recent years marking a social turn in the type of works created, not merely in subject matter, but in the very manner in which they are made” he explains how these changes have posited the landscape designer as a cultural service provider of equal merit. This article may need reading thrice but it sends a clear message- seize the moment and the responsibility that comes with it, these are fortunate times to be a landscape designer. http://dmooredesign.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-art-of-garden.html  

If that excites you then you’re also likely to be inspired by Susan Herrington’s accessible book On Landscape (Thinking in Action). Herrington draws together a vast amount of material to guide us though the social and ethical strata that’s embedded in our landscapes- but then goes further by venturing into our subconscious to explore how memories and emotions also shape our lands. Herrington in her preface sees the Landscape as “...the hidden art. It’s everywhere and part of everyone’s life. It isn’t closeted in a museum or concert hall.” Her book helps you to see this invisible art- and not all of it is comfortable reading.

The subtitle of Vista, edited by Noel Kingsbury and Tim Richardson the Culture and Politics of Gardens says it all. The collection of essays from the like of Giles Clement, Fernando Caruncho and Anne Wareham are instantly likeable because they inform us of subjects naturally close to the author’s hearts. But together they create a rich patchwork that fiercely demands that a garden must be understood within its cultural context to be appreciated fully. This book should be mandatory for all students of garden design to read before they even pick up a pen!

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At a recent symposium at the Garden Museum on Chinese and Japanese gardens we were introduced to The Humble Administrator’s Garden in Suzhou, China, created around 500 years ago. We were described how amongst the buildings, pools, bridges and islands stands ‘The Pavilion for Listening to the Sound of Rain’. When you enter the room you find out that it’s named after the raindrops falling on banana trees that are below the pavilion’s large, open window frame. We know this because text in the room alludes to it. Text is important in Chinese Gardens and it changes the ephemeral experience of a garden into something more permanent. Of course it doesn’t rain the majority of the time, so it is left to your imagination to realise the concept. To pause and contemplate the sensorial memories of being indoors, staring out and listening to the rain can be emotional, exciting and nostalgic.

And this made me think how we can neglect the impact a garden has from the indoors. When I say we, I particularly refer to homeowners and architects who have these magnificently large, architectural windows installed in their popular minimalist style, ground floor extensions, where the kitchen and eating space open up on to.... nothing much from what I’ve mostly seen. This can be because of budget, but I’ve come to the conclusion that for clients the aspiration is the massive window itself, not realising that it is just a mere portal to what is the main spectacle outdoors.

In our practice we’ve been experimenting with painting drops of masking fluid on windows to look like rain. It’s quite effective, it catches people unawares (unless it is actually raining) and creates a pause, invoking different emotional responses depending on the character of the sky at the time. However, Tom Stuart-Smith has done something far cheerier with a private back garden in London. Suburbia it isn’t- the perfectly judged but ridiculously exotic and lush planting will make breakfast, lunch and dinner feel like episodes of Lost. Imagine how dreadfully sad the clients must feel when they open the front door to go to work  to realise it was all just a dream.

Templeman Harrison London Garden Design

 

The view of the Red Borders at Hidcote is one of the most photographed
vistas of any garden. However, when I finally visited, it wasn't the borders
that bowled me over, but the gateway they're allied to. Framed by all things
meticulous and symmetrical, the open gates expose us to nothing but bright
light. The mood is magically transformed the moment visitors walk through
it, appearing as ghostly silhouettes, backlit by the white light behind.
Lawrence Johnston has engineered a religious experience (not least through
brilliant use of a ha-ha). His creation is an illustration of the idea that
Western culture's use of the vanishing point and perspective stems from a
belief that a human's physical journey ultimately leads towards a definite
end.

Bearing all this in mind, it's not surprising that it reminded me of Mark
Wallinger¹s moving video 'ŒThreshold to the Kingdom'. His gates are the
electric doors of the arrivals hall of a mundane looking London airport.
However, by slowing down the footage and combining it with beautiful choral
music, the new arrivals seems to weightlessly stride through the doors,
which as Rachel Withers says "creates an allegory with an overwhelming
message: These travellers are dead. They've arrived in Heaven; they've been
forgiven. At the end of the day, it's all going to be OK." Ultimately
though, whilst Wallinger's piece can be appreciated conceptually on many
levels, it can't match the same emotional punch as the Red Borders, as it is
the viewer themselves who walk through the gates, gob-smacked as the white
light merges in to the open countryside beyond.

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Last September a bat nesting site was unveiled at the London Wetland centre, which would have rightly made any chiropterologist smile. However, as this particular gesture to the local ecology was the brainchild of a Turner Prize winner, Jeremy Deller, who is known for instigating politically and socially charged events, it was clear that there must have been a deeper underlying message supporting this unique installation. The finished Bat House is the result of a competition where Deller invited both professionals and the general public to build a house for bats. It treated the bats as clients, and emphasis was placed on the typical design and build collaboration of consultation, architecture, aesthetics and the environment. Naturally the Bat House highlighted the need for creating habitats for bats who are losing nesting sites. However for Deller the project was actually about housing humans because "... the bats' habits present a fragile analogy (or contrast) to human urban existence, since they are capable of living in great numbers together in relative peace". This project was a response to his anger at being invited to regeneration projects where art is abused as decoration, introduced to ‘soften the blunt edges of ugly development’.

The 'Bat house' project is part of the Royal Society of Art’s ‘Art and Ecology’ programme. This has shed light on a growing movement of artists who are responding to the "environmental emergency" which Matthew Taylor, head of the RSA, describes as akin to past struggles at times of social and political unrest when "at certain times artists have chosen to engage with the issues of the day, from industrialisation to the struggle against fascism". Do read the excellent articles relating to the Bat House on its website at  http://www.bathouseproject.org/aboutus/press/ and incidentally you may also enjoy Anthony Gormley’s recent article about art’s current responsibilities  http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/feb/13/antony-gormley-climate-change-art

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 For those who dye their pond black....

This seminal piece by Richard Wilson '20:50' is being presented for the third time at a Saatchi Gallery. Each time it has taken on new meaning and power depending on the architecture that the thick, sump oil reflects.
What's interesting this time is that it is installed in a perfect, specifically designed space. The illusions of depth and simplicity of concept still astound. However, whereas before the work sat miraculously under the sky lights of a disused paint factory, and then appropriately uncomfortably in the wood panelled former GLC building, this time it has no borrowed environment to respond to. Instead, it reminds us how the art world has become a slick, commercial marketplace since the piece was first installed nearly twenty years ago. 

Templeman Harrison London Landscape Design