Today, or rather tonight (as I have let my day get away from me), I wanted to pick up on a discussion in the comments section of a post that Anne recently wrote regarding Garden Awards.
Yes, we do read comments – even when we didn’t write the piece. They often spur discussions between us, and this one certainly got the wheels turning in my mind, though I cannot say that I came up with an answer.
I believe it’s fair to say that Anne’s strong support for garden criticism has been considered controversial over the years — and this article about what garden awards are, what they mean, and how we give them out, irked at least one reader.
The charge leveled was that of boosting her own ego by “burst[ing] a goiter of competitive bile” over the gardens of others. Putting aside the anatomic impossibility of such a feat, the comment jumped out at me in its disagreeable use of the ad hominem to strike down an idea that should be discussed. At length.
Great Dixter (UK) at sunset.
This Art’s Off Limits
Most of us regard garden-making as a form of art. And yet a paradox exists. Whereas the general public is quite happy to be guided by the subtle and not-so-subtle jabs thrown by critics of food, music, and theatre (even as they themselves cook, strum the guitar, and join the local amateur dramatic society), they collectively clutch pearls when arrows aimed at gardens showcasing the twee, the awkward, the cliché, and the just plain jarring, are shot by archers that should know better.
To criticize a garden is to cross a line and risk condemnation by an industry that is obviously nicer than you. As Anne replied to her interlocutor, “I don’t know…I think I’m just not a very nice person.”
The premise of the pearl-clutchers as far as I can determine seems to be thus: Many people garden. It is a good and a healthy thing. People who garden work hard – physically and mentally. They put their efforts on display with love and some degree of vulnerability. What gives you or anyone else the right to judge those efforts? What does it matter?
Piet Oudolf’s perennial design at The Delaware Botanic Garden
Speaking as someone putting garden tours together of gardens that sometimes I have never seen, I can tell you that it matters a great deal. It’s why I spend a lot of money trying to see gardens for myself first. When a garden is recommended, I have to think about the person or organization recommending the garden to decide if the recommendation should be trusted and an itinerary altered. I listen for key words: “Exceptional.” “Remarkable.” “Visionary.” All gardens are not the same by virtue of the love put into them.
In our heart of hearts – we know a great garden the second we walk into it – even if we need the help of someone else more knowledgeable to figure out why our pulse just increased. Equally we know what it means to walk through a garden that bores us, just as we recognize when we are in the garden of a plant collector that fascinates on a completely different level.
I visit a LOT of gardens.
…in various disguises.
To know this thing is not to assume full competence in the genre of garden-making, any more than a food critic is necessarily a better cook than the chef they are critiquing. It is simply to know it. Some gardens are better than others, and if we want to get better in our own garden making, it behooves us to also know why. That’s where criticism comes in.
Why do gardens get a free pass?
I can listen to Jordi Savall play a viol in a concert hall and know I am in the presence of greatness, though I am no musician. I will share his music with friends and attempt to describe it with limping prose. That knowledge is instinctive, but it could benefit from some context.
If a critic comes along with vast musical experience and explains why my heart broke in the first minute and swelled in the remaining measures, I’m interested. I’m also interested if she then goes on to remark that the variation wasn’t one of his best. And I want to know why.
But not with gardens apparently. You might as well kick a puppy as query the line of an awkward path, or remark that the garden is a textural monoculture, or simply a manicured collection of big box cultivars.
Paxson Hill Farm, New Hope, PA
Why?
What Anne does — possibly better than any garden writer I have ever met — is display incredible courage in saying what many are thinking, but do not dare utter because it more often than not questions establishment thinking (whatever that happens to be at the moment) and that’s an uncomfortable space to inhabit.
A brave stance doesn’t mean she’s never wrong or goes about it perfectly every time – it simply means she’s willing to ask the question. That is a rare beast in media. There is too much to be sacrificed.
More importantly, she is willing to debate the question with those who wish to abandon inch-deep thinking and engage. She is hungry for that discussion. I know, I visited her garden and she didn’t want my superficial ‘lovelies,’ she wanted blood and bone. I still owe her a long email on that topic.
When is it okay?
If your mother asks you to visit her garden and give her pointers, perhaps you should pull your punches. If a garden friend offers you a bed for the night and a stroll round her young March wasteland with a glass of Prosecco in hand, ditto. [She says with an uncomfortable squirm.]
But if an organization offers a garden as an award-winning destination only to disappoint hundreds of strangers, is it unreasonable to expect that all the muttering should be done in the back of the Prius on the way home? I hazard a guess that most of us, even if we do not wish to admit it, want to honestly and fairly debate the strengths and weaknesses of the gardens we visit.
In a world of “lovely”, whether we can do so publicly is an issue still unresolved. – MW
____________________________________
Interested in seeing Anne & Charles’ award-winning garden for yourself and telling her what you think about it? I still have one, possibly two, spaces left on my May UK Garden Adventure Tour and Chelsea Flower Show! Email me for details.
Let’s ask ourselves the intent of criticism of a garden put on public display. In the back of the car after we leave, we may be presenting what we see as shortcomings with trusted companions. But let us hope that “criticism” also includes exclamations of delight or success. It is no different coming from someone who has appointed themselves a critic and found a venue to make such declarations. I have often read movie reviews after seeing a film to help validate my own impressions and to understand another perspective.
Garden Rant serves garden makers as Rotten Tomatoes serves film viewers.
There is so much more to say on this topic Eric — but was coming to the close of day. Yes, I agree. ‘Criticism’ absolutely includes exclamations of delight — and why – it is hampered by the often more pejorative use of the word.
When a food critic closes their eyes and breathes deeply as they savor a bite, we pay attention if we trust them — we want that experience too. However, we may have realized how to calibrate our response to theirs based on their tastes (after following their likes and dislikes and thoughts for a while), just as you put so well with the Rotten Tomatoes analogy: To validate our impression and/or understand another perspective.
We don’t tend to discuss specific (named) gardens on this site unless we have good things to say — for some of the very reasons I write about in the article — so I can’t say the analogy is perfect. Though I do think that you can get an idea of what we all like, and extrapolate from there perhaps. Much to be said on this topic – thank you for replying! – MW
I do wish to push home the point — mine at least — that there is a place where garden criticism is not necessary, or helpful. As I said, a friend’s garden. A relative’s garden. A sunny day in a garden with God in his heaven and tea and cake on the table — which does not mean it should be spoiled by mentioning that the steps lead nowhere and the ornamentation is being used as a crutch. But when it is asked for, either by the act of asking for suggestions, OR by the act of being on a tour? Is this acceptable, is the question.
I know that there are a great deal of tours in the spring that have a hard time getting people to open their gardens. And this is for a myriad of reasons, not least of all, the damage done by 1000 people over a weekend tramping on your spring turf. But it also can be because of the fear of criticism. And this is a VERY valid point too – worth discussion. – MW
“Criticism:
1. the act or an instance of making an unfavourable or severe judgement comment etc.
2. The analysis or evaluation of a work of art, literature etc.”
It’s often overlooked that in other art forms the makers long for reviews. Poor or insignificant books don’t get reviewed in major media.
Sometimes what is reviewed has to do with who the author knows or how active the PR department is….. something which also affects garden criticism, don’t you think?
I take your point on two variations on the definition of Criticism. But doesn’t it say a lot about our individual nature to see which one we are inclined to select? Can someone who is inclined to presume #1 receive the uplift of #2? An acclaimed artist friend and teacher has said “Notice what you notice!” That can inform those who visits gardens.
I agree Eric – it’s tricky. If your personal aesthetic is blowsy perennial beds, you’ll have a hard time loving a garden made up of hedges. But can you still critique (or understand a critique) of a garden of hedges (let’s say) for what it has accomplished and/or introduced to the overall conversation running through garden design? And then can you support that argument? Is there any way to be objective? I’m not sure – I’m still asking myself that. – MW
Thanks to Anne, Marianne, and Eric for rolling this muddy ball along. Garden writing necessarily involves personal critiques and analysis of various aspects of gardening. Ours is a messy business. What draws me into this conversation isn’t so much those garden of the month prizes as Jordi Savall’s viol playing. Not only is he a master of performance, he challenges us to listen beyond the boundaries of what’s trending on Spotify and relish music from ages past that resonates with timeless beauty. Even though his music stands on it’s own without words, a thoughtful writer – a critic – can enrich my listening experience. I’m able to hear more as I learn more, or something, I suppose. Something similar is true for thoughful critiques of gardens. Anne, you want to know if there’s garden award mania here in the US. Uh huh. A lot of it where I live, in the Southern US (North Carolina) is the neighborhood “yard of the month” contest (you get a yard sign!), with the winner determined by some sort of committee. We’re not talking criticism here, just picking winners. Different thing. I think. Based on my chats in the hood, it’s mostly intended to encourage people to take care of their yards by injecting a little competition. Works like a charm (for some)! I have thought about doing something like it in my community garden (US meaning – like an allotment in the UK, more or less), you know, “plot of the month.” But, nah. Again, it’s not criticism, it’s competition. Surprise, surprise, the new organic gardener who’s giving it a try for the first time doesn’t have a plot as verdant as the veteran Master Gardener with the earliest tomato and longest tromboncino. I’m thinking maybe of trying a “spotlight” instead, featuring a different gardener every month, where I’m more a “reporter” than a “critic.” Anyway, sorry to go on.
Yes, I agree that skillful garden criticism is invaluable, and we need to be having the kinds of vigorous discussions the best criticim can cultivate (for instance, around here right now, on the topic of “native plants”). Picking up on something Marianne implies, if you are going to critique, you better see the movie! (Maybe garden critics need something like that “Tomatometer-approved” process for movie critics – sounds appropriate, huh?) And (I find this, it’s weird) for public projects such as community gardens, sometimes glorious looking (and grant winning!) gardens shown on websites don’t exist in the real world. At all! We live in strange times.) What I like most however is cultivating conversation, which GardenRant does well. Criticism plays an important role in digging up things to discuss, but, as much as I appreciate a good zingers, sometimes it’s pretty mean. When critiquing someone else’s garden, it never hurts to apply compassion as generously as good compost.
A fellow Jordi-lover. Fantastic. He came to mind as his Orient/Occident CD was keeping me company as I wrote last night.
I do think that competitions (such as those you write of) are helpful in communities intending to bring about pride in one’s outside space, but you are right, it’s not exactly the same as what we’re discussing.
I don’t think we need to criticize just for the sake of it – it’s a good way of not getting yourself invited to gardens you would love to sit and relax in, as the owners cannot be bothered with you making mental notes and nitpicking! I certainly do not wish to imply that I have an incredible garden or that I will not visit an average garden – neither are true.
And I admit to some concern that a higher authority put together for the purposes of certain standards of criticism would soon turn nasty and be subject to all the terrible things that plague any committee or organization. However, I don’t think that’s what Anne is advocating for – it’s just the ability to clearly discuss gardens without worrying that to do so will be instinctively seen as mean spirited. Perhaps Anne can weigh in on that. – MW
(to continue https://gardenrant.com/2024/02/gardens-need-critics.html)
Great topic. Thank you for the thought provoking post. I have long felt that competition just brings out the worst in people. Public gardens are fair game for criticism/review in order to help one decide if a visit is in order. Private gardens are another matter. If one puts one’s garden on a garden tour or opens it to the public periodically, one does so knowing that it will not be everyone’s favorite and it will invite criticism. I would prefer to call it a Garden Review although that title will certainly not generate ‘click bait’.
I agree – “Garden Review” removes the harsh, pejorative tone of “Garden Critic”. Funny though, I don’t think that way about “Food Critic” or “Wine Critic” or “Theatre Critic” – we read those reviews knowing they could be positive or negative. – MW
Perhaps it helps to draw a distinction between criticism and judgmentalism (sic). I say this having listened to your recent Garden Question podcast where you opined on the rather regrettable trend of folks doomsaying gardens that don’t check all the politically correct boxwoods. Those folks are being judgemental, not critical – and their views are frequently borne out of ideology more than actual observation. I have been guilty of this in the past but am now wary.
Criticism is a game for consenting adults. Where I garden in Canada, the level of general garden literacy is so abysmally low, it’s difficult to know where to even begin a critique without sounding cruel and condescending. (By contrast, if you look at Yelp here for restaurant reviews, there is no end of critiquing, both for and against.)
Your observation that “Most of us regard garden making as an art form’ is both true and perhaps overly optimistic. I only wish that were the case.
I’m all for the critique for those who can handle it (and even for some who can’t.) Lastly, I also cast some blame for all this on my fellow garden writers, many of whom in their efforts to be smiley, lovely and nice about all things gardening come off as rather toothless when it is they who should set the critical standard.
Those of “us” who regard garden making as an art form is limited to like-minded active gardeners, those likely to be consuming content on GardenRant.com. I dare say most folks do not.
We haven’t mentioned that often there are compelling reasons why some weaknesses cannot be simply overcome by those who might announce pejorative criticism. Budgets, underground root competition, equipment logistics, nostagia from a garden’s history, to name a few.
Personally, I’ve enjoyed hearing comments on my own garden, most of which attempt to prod me to follow garden writers’ treatises: “Why aren’t I constructing English Borders?” “Why do you encourage the Polygonatum to poke through the large-leafed Hosta?”
So that’s something that I did want to get into a little further Eric – a very good point. Some weaknesses in a garden cannot be overcome easily – after all, how long did it take to finally sort out Delos at Sissinghurst (and to the tune of how many millions of pounds?). But then again, perhaps the garden that does not fight the site, the soil, the budget and the nostalgia becomes a great garden BECAUSE of letting those things inform all? Perhaps? -MW
“Criticism is a game for consenting adults” – for the win Tony. Brilliant.
And yes – I agree re: garden writers. We don’t want to upset others – often friends – with honesty. It’s a decent way to live, but it does play merry hell with reality. – MW
More on this – https://gardenrant.com/2024/02/gardens-need-critics.html
Perhaps before deciding to award any garden a winner, there should be criteria set ahead of time for all entries with the award based on something tangible; a theme or even people’s choice instead of how the garden looks in the sun, rain or shade – or the judges preferences…. entering any juried show or contest is a crap shoot if there aren’t guidelines… each garden entered should receive a conscientious written note about how it fared within those guidelines. If those guidelines are public, then we as visitors have the right to be critical or complimentary… if not, the (un)fairness lies in the eye of the beholder.
I think Gareth [below] answers this much better than I could – as an experienced judge. – MW
As a Bloom judge, it’s my duty to look at gardens in a critical manner. The challenge for me is to separate my personal opinions from my professional judgement. I know what I like but that’s not why I’m there. As a judge you need to know what has or hasn’t been done well, whether something is environmentally correct (whether you agree with the principles or not), if it’s sustainable and if it fulfills its remit. Obviously, any criticism has to be backed up with solid and impartial reasoning, otherwise you can end up, in some cases, just being cruel and that’s not the point of criticism. I remember the first time I visited John Massey’s garden at Ashwoods. I’d seen plenty of pictures in various publications prior to going and had high expectations. To say I was wholly underwhelmed would be an understatement. I’d been given the impression it was on a lavish scale when in fact it was rather small and compact. However, I wasn’t underwhelmed by its contents. He had/has created a stunning garden in a very limited space and although I later went on to write about my disappointment of scale I also waxed lyrical about the horticulture.
This, I believe is the key to criticism, being even handed in what you say with proper reasoning behind your comments.
That’s a very particular kind of ‘judgement’, Gareth. I’d prefer asking does it “interest the eye, excite the brain, move the mind to reflection, and involve the heart“…and, ideally… “come at us from an unexpected angle and stop us short in wonder.”
I think John Massey’s garden suffers from being flat and featureless apart from the river, and those things are circumstantial. Do his plants overcome this ? Not so sure, but would be a great on site discussion!
“…perhaps the garden that does not fight the site, the soil, the budget and the nostalgia becomes a great garden BECAUSE of letting those things inform all?…”
Well said (music to my ears?). That’s just the sort of insight garden criticism can provide.
This is a very interesting thread. Thanks for posting your Garden Design piece, Anne. Before heading back to reread it (after I hit the mud to transplant a largish hydrangea (/H. paniculata/) labeled “not Limelight” in a friend’s nursery – it’s a long story, our neighbors are building an addition and in the process chopped a fine old crepe myrtle in their yard. That flowering tree used to droop across our fence, so this is Nan’s (my wife’s) chosen replacement on “our” side – I just hope it isn’t one of the varieties Dirr hates. It’s arboriformed…we’ll see… Anyway, that’s urban gardening. It resembles chess, sometimes, not creating viewscapes so much as blocking them. Points out a challenge built into garden criticism – gardens necessarily change, all at once and cyclically both, but at a time scale vastly different from the other arts. Anyway…) I want to say:
Switching from “critic” to “reviewer” Layanee and Marianne, makes sense since it matches up with the way we use those words. Those “Tomatometer-approved critics” (the site’s own terminology) can just as easily be dubbed “film reviewers.” On the other hand, might this be a little like calling the veggie patch a “potager”? Sounds “better”, but does it make a difference? The tomatoes taste the same.
Whatever we call practioners of the art of observing gardens and writing about them, my hope is that they prod us, get us thinking, and spark conversation. It is through back and forth discussions – discussions like these, with disagreements at times – that we deepen understanding.
As someone who loves visiting a garden and discussing it at length on the car ride home (even better to visit 2-3 gardens in one day and then spend the whole evening hashing things out), I am all for critical appreciation of a garden. And I used to think I wanted to read about it. But I don’t anymore. In fact I have also come to be less interested in commercial photography of gardens. What I continue to be interested in is hearing directly from the makers and gardeners, and to see their photos of what brings them joy or frustration at any particular moment.
When we think of famous restaurant reviewers, one of the things they often do is visit multiple times, and for them, it is no problem to try to be there under ideal conditions – the proper dinner hour, with friends, and if they catch the kitchen on a bad night then hopefully one of the other visits makes that clear. In gardens, so few of us can visit them when they are most evocative (when all that professional photography takes place) – first thing in the morning or as the sun slants lower in the evening. Perhaps this says something about me and how I prefer to experience a garden (quietly, amongst friends or with the gardener, when the sun is not immediately overhead washing everything out). Further, few of us can visit them over and over through the seasons, to see the bits that delight at one time of year and go quiet at another. Gardens are not movies or meals to be consumed in an hour, they are something that is there for 365 days of the year. And to be honest, as a North American, I am cognizant of the fact that few places have gardens in such close proximity (England, France, the tri-state area, and…?) that you could do that and publish more than 3-4 reviews in a year and maintain an appropriate carbon footprint. Although perhaps that rigorous type of reviewing would only set the casual garden tourist up for further disappointment beyond the usual (inevitably one visits on a hot day or a soggy one, at high noon, or perhaps just before closing, and you’re hungry and your camera has died and your socks are wet, etc.) – gardens are not a beautiful restaurant or movie theatre which attempts to control multiple conditions to maximize enjoyment.
Of course, reading criticism can help one understand gardening better, but equally, reading garden writing which does not set out to be a review per-say, but incorporates deep knowledge of specific garden examples and is aspirational in tone can go a long way to understanding why things work as they do. I think it is very rare that someone is a gifted writer, a gifted observer, and is in a position to visit gardens regularly. That we usually ask our garden writers to be gardeners is also in conflict since they would presumably be away from the gardens quite a bit. If not, then they must have money to pay a garden professional and then we enter the new discussion of class and privilege. There is much we prefer to brush under the rug in gardening (where does the money and land come from for these grand visions being created?). Sure, we can say food, film, art also involves vast sums of money, but there are financing structures in place and producers, backers, etc., are talked openly about in reviews (and fact-checked if in major publications). We also see more criticism of labour practices and appropriation, etc. in those categories, unsavoury things that the gardening world desperately tries to ignore.
I’m not against anyone writing garden criticism, in the form of reviews or essays or blog posts; I think it would be enormously beneficial to contextualize gardens more frequently within artistic, historical, social and political frames as we do other art forms. But it takes a lot of work, and I think most of us prefer to actively garden and discuss our criticisms with those sympathetic to us.
I am in full agreement that it is difficult to appreciate what a garden truly is when one sees it for an hour at an arbitrary time – this was one of my issues with Monty Don’s book/series on American Gardens.
You bring up a good point: how can we expect garden writers to maintain their own gardens, write about them, and still visit many other gardens and write about them too? I don’t know. It is something I wrestle with every day of my professional life. I live on 10 acres – 2 of which I consider more or less under cultivation. Up until last year I had no help with the garden or any of my previous smaller gardens — last year, about eight hours a month during the season. Eight. Hours. A. Month. I simply cannot afford any more and in dark moments (usually in February) I can be disheartened occasionally by what could be achieved/designed with even a once-a-week gardener-helper. Happened yesterday as a matter of fact.
However, I have always been thankful (and write about it in depth in Big Dreams, Small Garden) for the 1% gardens, as those budgets make great ideas and great inspiration possible. My challenge is to adapt those ideas for a smaller budget and make much from little. I do not believe that hashing out “where the land or money came from” makes a difference to that equation, and indeed brings us squarely back to a place of envy and/or resentment – which is no way to garden and no way to live. Gratitude for what one has is the way to move steadily onward.
I could not write about gardens without the stimulation of my garden and I would not wish to write about plants I was not growing or had never grown. That’s what AI is for. So how is this solved? Adrenal failure is apparently what I’m currently going for. -MW
We appreciate your sacrifices to your joint crafts of gardening and writing!
I just wanted to follow up on the one thing that I felt was misunderstood. My point about money is not about greed/envy, because as you get at, gardens, like all art practices, are products of constraints – of the materials provided, the time available, the space, the location, the social conditions, the weather! It’s interesting and useful to understand how those constraints are reflected and adapted to, and changes how we respond to a garden.
But more important, it contextualizes the gardens themselves, particularly historic gardens, but modern ones too. Many large, famous gardens are creations of wealth, some of which comes from slavery or colonialism, and are not usually made solely for personal/artistic ends but as demonstrations of that wealth and sites of social power. When we look at historic art we might wish to know that it was painted for a specific patron to be given as a gift in marriage and the patron came from a family of respectable cloth merchants and that particular velvet was their specialty, etc. When we read a restaurant review to learn about the duck for $52 a plate, from a particular farm upstate that hand raises small flocks, that helps us evaluate the price, the ethical concerns, the perceived quality, the exclusivity of the experience. Less savoury, but just as important to consider (especially if we are partly justifying the need for critique on whether we should pay to visit a place) is the way information in a restaurant review about financial backers might lead us not to go to it if we know they have been previously charged with wage theft, or how our perception of a movie and the choice to view it might be altered by an understanding that the movie was produced by someone accused of sexual misconduct.
Again, I see this as aspirational. It still feels like a surprise when stories focusing on garden owners acknowledge that they even have professional help! And you know what – maybe there is some envy about their luck – but it’s more relief that I don’t have to try and attain that standard in my own garden. These owners are not superhuman but have chosen to bring in professional gardeners to achieve their vision. There’s nothing wrong with that! Gardeners are amazing.
One of the aspects of garden building (and writing about that garden building), I have always found critically helpful, but that is rarely divulged, is the amount of hours of professional or volunteer help a garden has. I want to see this information not to feel envy over their ” luck” (a term which pricks me), but to contextualize the labor needed to create the garden before me. Not to mention the techniques used and advocated for.
That matters when I’m trying to realistically evaluate what I physically can and cannot do. I wish more garden speakers speaking about their gardens would start their talks off with a short statement like, “Hi I’m Marianne, and I have eight hours of unskilled help in the garden a month.”
The background of a historic garden is interesting to me – contextualized to its time, not ours — but would rarely affect whether I like the design or not. Versailles leaves me cold — not because Louis XIV designed it to best Vaux-le-Vicomte (after imprisoning Fouquet), but because it feels cold and impersonal and run-down.
I would probably rather walk through a garden the first time without that information so I can see how the garden affects me, and read about it later (and have another visit later), rather than tie myself in moral knots over its origins. “Use every man after his desert, and who should ‘scape whipping?”
Thanks for sharing so many thoughts about this topic Amy. -MW
Writing from Ireland: I have never seen garden criticism here. There is much garden description – magazine articles, for example, and these invariable never go beyond kind reports, always praising, always positive; never a negative word; never a criticism. Anne has made the point that gardens which open to the public and which charge for admission are reasonably open to fair criticism. Without a shadow of a doubt, even fair criticism of gardens here in Ireland would not be welcomed. Owners would take offense and would complain that the criticism was damaging their “business” and threatening their income. In a small gardening community this leads to uncomfortable situations. We are all to be nice and polite and not mention the Emperor’s new clothes – and there are several emperors, and empresses, here who charge very unreasonable admission charges to gardens which are not without fault and are yet practically national horticultural heros.
For your information, I have a private garden; not open to the public; purely for my pastime and enjoyment.
Fascinating to hear Paddy – thank you for being so honest. – MW
I could add that we – my wife and I – are regularly amazed/confounded by the level of adulation given to some high-profile gardens here in Ireland which we consider far less wonderful that their owners would wish us to believe. Many will voice these criticisms privately but certainly not publicly.
I applaud Maryanne’s wisdom in being grateful for what we have and to let go of jealousy and resentment. And that brings incentive to develop a local community of gardeners. I find most gardeners to be generous and delighted to share or swap plants that can be proagated. And local community plant sales help bring down cost for what can be rare or unavailable in the trade
Whether appreciated or not, public gardens are open to people who have preferences and opinions, as well as the option to share them with others. I’m thankful that some garden writers are unafraid to voice their opinions, which I’ll take or leave based on what my eye can glean from the photos. Pictures, though tricky, usually tell me enough about whether my visit will be worthwhile. That said, I would welcome more serious garden discussion, whether critical or not. I’d like to see the bar raised, more public garden information made available to people, particularly in light of the increasing costs of visiting public gardens. This may be all ado about nothing, as Joe and Jane Gardener don’t seem to be clamoring for more serious garden reviews in the main stream U.S. gardening magazines/web sites.
I know why I was slow to start criticizing gardens, and it’s nothing to do with the people. It’s to do with the fact that it felt as if I was critiquing living things that aren’t into this whole “art” thing themselves.
However, gardens are *not* nature, not really. Every plant that grows is just as worthy as another in a spiritual sense, but their use in a design is something else entirely. That use is about the gardener/organization’s art and not much to do with the innate worthiness of the plant. When I became aware of the source of my awkwardness (feeling like I was taking shots at the plants themselves) and instead recognized that garden-making as a human endeavor benefits from a critical eye the same as anything else we do as humans, it got a lot easier for me to stop the “lovelies” and go deeper.
The big benefit to having a more critical eye is that it does deepen your appreciation for when things *do* work. When things stop being uniformly “lovely” (and some things can even be called “dreadful”), you can start to recognize the real standouts.