Garden Notes - an occasional column

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January 14, 2003 - The Question of Beauty

We ascribe beauty to that which is simple,
which has no superfluous parts;
which exactly answers its end;
which stands related to all things;
which is the mean of many extremes.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s January, snow is “mulching” the garden (and yes, during the next thaw I intend -- yes, my fingers are crossed - to mulch the roses with the composted cow manure that lie frozen by the shed), and 'tis the season for ruminating about what makes a garden beautiful.

Philosophers and artists have been defining and debating aspects of what is “beautiful” for centuries. I think Emerson’s words apply to garden making and raise many thoughts and questions that beg reflection.

In his first phrase, Emerson suggests that beauty is simple. Notice he doesn’t say “easy” but simple. Simple means revealing the essence, the heart or core of a thing. That thought begs the question what is the essence of a garden? Is the essence plants, shaped spaces, or lines? Is it the bold curve that winds its way in perfect relationship to itself and the space it lies within? Or is the curve, simply, a beautiful part? Consider that the essence of a garden is the energy of connection. Energy connecting to all its parts, to me, to you, to insects, to sky, to the smallest molecule.

“As in no superfluous parts”, this phrase, translates in terms of garden making to all the parts of a garden. The parts or elements include the architectural elements of walls, paths, bed shape; plant composition; flowers; color palette and bloom sequence, lighting. Superfluous refers to no “extras”. Elements are used sparingly and precisely to create a harmonious whole. One element may set the theme or tone or structure. The design holds an intended balance between order and chaos which the Greeks identified these two forces of nature as Apollo and Dionysus. It is what Michael Pollan in his book Botany of Desire, A Plant’s Eye view of the World describes as the struggle between the Apollonian celebration of the “one” versus the Dionysian impulse for “variability”.

“Which exactly answers its end”…I suppose that you could think that the “end” is the creation of a beautiful garden. But I actually think that beauty is the symptom or outward reflection, that the end is the experience of life itself. That the end is to create a garden with “presence”, a garden that feels alive, engages our attention long enough to nourish the human spirit and thereby helping to connect with the presence within, and thus joyfully proceed with our day. The “end” is the Dionysian variability, the impulse to get lost in a moment of fascination, the impulse to celebrate our being, all while feeling safe within the Apollonian structure or order. It is the necessary structure that frames, focuses, provides viewpoints; actualizes access providing entrance and exit; and limits the Dionysian splendor, the wonders within so that we can partake of the miracle of life without losing ourselves.  It is a delicate balance of Apollo and Dionysus…too much of either presents sterility or madness.

To make a garden “which stands related to all things” is an art form that orchestrates the simple component parts into a harmonious whole relating the smallest pebble and the universe at large.  Again, this refers to balancing Apollonian universe or the BIG picture and Dionysian earth/people celebration. It also refers to the interdependent web, the web of life that Chief Seattle speaks of when he says, “All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. We did not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand in it.  Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves”.

”Which is the mean of many extremes”. In garden language, extreme weather pops into mind and the extremes of human psychology, site conditions, and budget. All of these kinds of extremes may influence the design and construction of a garden. Yet, I think Emerson is talking about ideas, concepts. He’s talking about honing, paring, whittling to the simplest and graceful. Physical grace described by Brian Doyle in Grace Notes as a kind of ease, fluidity.  Or grace as presence as in spirit or blessing. Doyle writes of “people telling of the moments when they felt grace arriving and they use words like calm, serene, harmony, peace, symmetry.” Amazing! The same words people use to describe a beautiful garden and the experience within.

Beauty may truly be in the eyes of the beholder, but in order to behold you must permit yourself to see, you must take that moment to glance out a window, peer down a path and follow it. Yet a truly beautiful garden will seem beautiful to all. While Jane may prefer color of the flowers and Bill is drawn to the sound of beckoning water or bird song. A path winding out of sight asking to discover what lies beyond may enchant another. Yet not withstanding the engaging element, you have been called, beckoned, engaged.  A beautiful garden is one that engages the senses and draws you in to discover …yourself. Yourself as the large and the small, the connected and disconnected, the graceful and the graceless, the blessed to engage in the beauty of the garden and become reacquainted with the beauty of yourself.