matters of taste

Rebecca Sol­nit wrote an essay for Extreme Hor­ti­cul­ture,* a book by pho­tog­ra­pher John Pfahl who was the sub­ject of one of this blog’s first posts. I bumped into the essay again as I was skim­ming through an anthol­ogy I’d read last year, Solnit’s Storm­ing the Gates of Par­adise: Land­scapes for Pol­i­tics. Here’s a frag­ment that I found really inter­est­ing, part of her essay, “The Botan­i­cal Circus.”

There is a whole lan­guage of class in the garden–when they returned to the gar­den, flow­ers were redeemed with the taste­ful mono­chro­matic schemes of the likes of Gertrude Jekyll; and, as gar­den­ing essay­ist Michael Pol­lan points out, there is a whole class war of the roses, in which old roses–more fra­grant, more softly shaped, less abun­dant in their bloom, more lim­ited in the palette–are the exiled aris­toc­racy. Good taste is about renun­ci­a­tion: you must have enough to restrain in order to value restraint, enough abun­dance to prize aus­ter­ity. After all, it was only after ani­line dyes made bright cloth­ing uni­ver­sally avail­able that the priv­i­leged stopped dress­ing like pea­cocks; spare­ness is often the pub­lic face of excess…Moderation, the Greek philoso­pher said, is pleas­ant to the wise, but it’s not nec­es­sar­ily fun. Eleanor Perényi writes in her book Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Gar­den,

Look­ing at my dahlias one sum­mer day, a friend whose taste runs to the small and impec­ca­ble said sadly, “You do like big con­spic­u­ous flow­ers, don’t you?” She meant vul­gar, and I am used to that. It hasn’t escaped me that mine is the only WASP gar­den in town to con­tain dahlias, and not the dis­creet lit­tle sin­gles either. Some are as blowsy as half-dressed Renoir girls; oth­ers are like spiky sea-creatures, water lilies, or the spi­rals in a crys­tal paper­weight; and they do shoot up to prodi­gious heights. But to me they are sump­tu­ous, not vulgar.

I’ve gone on in some posts about the neces­sity to rein in color choices to achieve some sort of har­mony. But then I’ve writ­ten about won­der­fully vul­gar, er…sump­tu­ous, plants like toloache and Echium wild­pret­tii. I really do like a cer­tain amount of order, but at the same I do appre­ci­ate these flam­ing agents of chaos. I may achieve pock­ets of “good taste” in the yard, but these are tem­pered by the bawdy and outrageous.

So what’s your gar­den like? Care­fully coor­di­nated and muted like a wardrobe from J. Crew or Land’s End? Or sassy and out­ra­geous like Martha Stew­art in hot pants and five-inch cha-cha heels?

A note on my links to books: The book links in all of my posts (with only one excep­tion that I can think of) take you to abebooks.com, a site made up of hun­dreds of book­sellers around the world, a good many of them the lit­tle brick and mor­tar oper­a­tions that are dying out too quickly as giants like Ama­zon take over publishing.

July 31 2008 | Categories: gardeningquotesrambles | Tags: | 1 Comment »