Outbursts of Vanilla
I have, like many people, recently returned from the Chelsea Flower Show (i).
I was, briefly, on television although have not yet seen much of it: except a bit of Tuesday’s programme where Christine Walkden says (and I quote) “I just want to stroke it and stroke it and dream away about hot, passionate nights”. I don’t know why this came as a bit of a surprise, but it did. I like making television very much but do not like watching myself: it is a vanity thing, I suppose, I always think I look too old/beaky/grey etc
I have now slept enough to be relatively confident that I can string a few words together without dribbling so am reasonably confident that this post will make some sense.
My Chelsea was exciting and a bit different as it was my first year as a member of Council so as well as the usual schmoozing and kissing people on Press Day I got to be very grown -up and important guiding VIPs round the show early in the morning in order to keep the donations to the RHS flowing. This has disadvantages as, if you are wearing a badge, people assume you know where the loos are and take the opportunity to complain about the crowds.
I spent quite a long time looking at the show gardens and I think it is time we had a revolution.
When I first came to Chelsea the planting was mostly Rhododendrons and large rocks. I’m sure there were other things but that is the memory I hold, there were exciting things going on in the tent with Beth Chatto and Carol Klein doing interesting stuff but that had not yet spread outside to the show gardens. At the time we were on the cusp of the garden design revolution when everybody suddenly became garden designers rather than gardeners. I remember thinking about training courses for Garden Design in about 1984 and the only one I could find was a ten week stint at the Inchbald School of Design (I signed up but did not turn up as often as I should). There were only a few designers in those days (John Brookes being the grand fromage) and the whole idea was treated with a certain suspicion.
“And what do you do, young man” I was asked on one memorable occasion (I was quite young in those days hence the mildly patronising form of address: better than “Sonny”, I suppose)“I’m a Garden Designer, Sir” (I was not only young but terribly polite having been taught that it was always a good idea to call older men Sir: especially if one had designs on their daughters) “What a strange idea” he replied “does anybody actually want their gardens designed?”
A few years later this became a superfluous question as the explosion of television programmes meant that everybody had some idea of design and how it works in gardens.
Anyway, back the point (or as close to it as I am ever likely to come), the Revolution. Since the days when the Rhodendron reigned the style of planting in Chelsea gardens has changed from shrubby to a much lighter, prettier feel. Initially this was viewed with some suspicion (ii). This idea has now become more mainstream and there is a slight sense of sameness as you walk down Main Avenue. Part of this is because there are only so many plants that are available at this time of year and partly because that style makes gorgeous gardens that work well at Chelsea. Sponsors demand Gold Medals and that does not lead to designers taking risks. I have suggested before to the RHS (and will do so again) that it would be very exciting if, every so often, Chelsea was moved to September: new colours, different plants etc. I am unlikely to succeed in this endeavour.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore this sort of thing. I love the planting and can easily swoon over a cow parsley. But part of me would really like to see something radically different. I am not quite sure what or how but things cannot remain the same for ever and we need somebody clever and innovative to chuck a bomb in the works.
Anyway, we will see.
Amongst other happenings: I went to lecture at Wisley. Apart from the fact that I was appallingly late it was fun. The audience were mostly Wisley staff so therefore the audience age was about half my usual average.
I have also been on a bit of a garden trawl, making sure things are in order. This is one of my favourite gardens: a courtyard full of plants.
I am listening to Gabrielle singing Rise. One of those anthemic songs that made you sway and lifted the soul for a bit. Until you got bored of it when it seemed trite and overdone. Short shelf life, popular music.
The picture is of a very dramatic Centaurea at Cottesbrooke: where, incidentally, the Gardeners’ Fair will be happening on the 22-24th June.
(i) When I say recently I mean over a week ago but it was recent when I wrote the first sentence of this post. Blogs seem to be written in bursts at the moment.
(ii) I say this as an early adopter who scraped a Bronze Medal a decade or so ago by planting what I called a Tameflower Meadow – lots of herbaceous stuff amidst a matrix of Stipa arundinacea. Pretty but a bit light horticulturally – I was terribly cavalier with my plant positioning as I was more excited by colour and shape. I spent most of the show standing on a caged hedge haranguing the punters as if by explaining the point of the garden to each and every visitor the world might change. Either that or I just enjoyed showing off. My next door neighbours had rocks and rhododendendrons.
I agree about shows in general. Holding them at the same time of year, often leads to uninspiring design. And I also agree with Sue, there is a true sense of fakery. In the US, the landscapers plant tropical plants next to a plant not to bloom until late in the year. Clients come and ask for these combinations and non-hardy plants that they would have to dig up and over-winter.
It would be better still if they could find a format for Chelsea that did not involve the weeks/months of hard graft and toil ( and resources) being ripped up in order to return it to a blank canvas.
If they all stayed there it would be a very crowded place! Most elements of the gardens end up somewhere else: much better than it used to be when everything was simply lifted up and chucked in a skip!
Joe Swift’s garden stood out for me on Main Avenue. I’d have given him best in show for the combination of the cedar structures, the Prunus ‘Amber Beauty’ and the matching Irises. And those stunning water features too. Worked beautifully for me. (Apols to Cleve – his was gorgeousness itself and Dave’s favourite)
But otherwise thank heavens above – or the leprechauns – or whoever, for letting the insufferable Diarmiud Gavin do his extraordinary thing. From the relative sameness of Main Avenue to an unimaginable dream-fest of a creation with sofas and kitchens 5 stories up that no ordinary ticket buying mortal could see. Give that man an annual Chelsea plot for life, please.
And as for the DMZ garden. That quiet, shy soul stood on the corner silently smiling and handing out leaflets while my jaw fought against gravity to comprehend the stunning complexity of the planting. Completely convincing. Stunningly realised. Against it, everything else looked stiff and fake.
I’m sure the Artisan Gardens were fab too, but has anyone who’s been there other than on Press Day actually seen them? Do they really exist?
Next year you should jolly well make the effort to go and find the Artisan gardens. If it is a hot day it is the best place to be.
DMZ was genius although it is interesting that you think it made everything else look fake when, if you think about it, that garden was the biggest piece of artifice in the whole show.
We did our very best to see the Artisan Gardens, but I’m only 5’4′ and the throng in front of each one was 4 deep and everyone was taller than me. I wriggled to the front of the plant hunter garden and declared it the best. It was certainly the best one I saw properly. I did manage to wriggle one hand in for a brief fondle of the mossy pebbles on the Japanese one at the other end. The bits of that I could see were fab too.
It’s been the same every year – like a school bus crush down there. Will have to get there at 8, or stay till 8 to see them properly. Or wangle a press day pass…
All show gardening is fakery – just a matter of degree. For me, a measure of the success of a show garden is the extent to which my disbelief is temporarily suspended. The planting on the DMZ garden had mine dangling limply from its branches.
As per usual, preferred the Artisan to the show gardens.
If there is one thing that needs sorting out with Chelsea show gardens, it’s the amount of hard landscaping. Granted, this year the number of months of gardening in Somme like conditions looks like extending into July, and a path provides a brief respite, but these are supposed to be GARDENS, not PAVEMENTS.
Probably why I liked the DMZ garden best of all this year. The fact that it was accidentally freer of the hand of sponsorship and built by volunteers may or may not have given it the sense of freedom and lightness of touch that was lacking elsewhere.
Anbyway, I await receipt of my Hampton Court tickets. May fetch the strap-on Darth Vader helmet (the plastic cast for my leg) and leave it the van, ready to put on and try to blag a motorised wheelchair if I get tired. BE VERY AFRAID.
The DMZ garden was going to be that good with or without sponsorship.
I think most gardens have the soft/hard balance right. Every garden needs somewhere to stand from which to admire the planting.
Other gardens are designed to be predominately places to sit. Different strokes…
I suspect, nay I know you just enjoyed showing off.
The planting this year, beautiful though it was, seemed much more samey than usual, although the Laurent Perrier seemed a little less Laurent Perrierish than usual.
One thing I would like to see is a number of designers being given a brief, indeed the same brief, so we mere punters can compare how this was achieved.
The showing off has its benefits.
The same brief thing doesn’t really work very well: especially with differing budgets. Better that designers have the chance to do whatsoever their imaginations desire.
You are so right. It would be great to have Chelsea in Sept. Completely different range of plants and colours. Love the idea.