Design in landscape gardening

Front matter

in 2011 witii funding from

DESIGN IN LANDSCAPE GARDENING

THE K1101>01>ENDK0XS Country Place of Professor Charles S. Sargent, Brookline, Mass.

Preface

unscientific discussions of landscape gardening wMch at the present time are appearing in unprecedented numbers.

It cannot be denied that landscape has a distinctly emotional value, but book-discussions of this nature have always seemed futile to the authors. Though considerable in bulk, these books are of slight real value because of their unsystematic recording of principles, and limited range.

This book is based largely upon lectures offered in the department of landscape gardening at the University of Illinois. The subject of plant color and the theory of color planting is given to the public with some reluctance. In spite of much time and study it still seems inadequate. The subject is, however, presented from a new standpoint and it is hoped that other workers in the same field may make much further progress along the way here pointed out.

Through this book the terms landscape architect, landscape gardener, and landscape designer, have been used interchangeably. There are strong partizans for each of these appellations, who can see no good in the employment of the other two. In the voluminous articles published in support of these views, nothing has appeared so convincing

PREFACE

as to prejudice the authors in favor of any definite and exclusive title. In fact they feel that bickering on matters of terminology where the subject matter is universally agreed upon is apt to denote a tendency to decadence, rather than to vigorous constructive work.

The authors are indebted to Professor J. C. Blair, Professor Charles Mulford Robinson, Professor H. B. Dorner, Mr. F. A. C. Smith, of the University of Illinois and Mr. G. R. Forbes, of New York, for their courtesy in allowing them to reproduce several of the photographs used as illustrations. Some of the illustrations, several of the plans, for instance, are copies made from the work of students at the University of Illinois. Some were redrawn, others were used exactly as presented. The drawings are the work of C. F. Kelley.

September 29, 1914.

Contents

CHAPTEE PAGE

I ELEMENTS OF LANDSCAPE DESIGN 3

Architecture . . . • 5

II Desigit

It will perhaps be advantageous to give a brief summary of design in general before the specific subject of design in landscape is approached. 1 The / underlying principles of design are found in all i branches of the fine and applied arts, and are the means of criticizing intelligently any object of de- I sign, be it a rose- jar or a landscape, ji J

There are no such things as rules of design. One cannot learn a few formulae and then turn out satisfactory work because of having gone through a certain number of processes and made a definite number of motions. The well-trained designer always has an attitude toward his subject which will direct him in his work. The acquisition of such an attitude is a matter of deep study, and requires a long time and a fine enthusiasm; and of course, as is the case with everything worth while, it will ripen and change gradually as the experience of the designer grows and his horizon broadens. '^ r r^The designer's attitude is first one of intelligent

/rw^Sde^nent^'-^ inquiry as to the possibilities of

I the subject, and is attained through the training

^ of the imagination. A designer who sees only one

solution for every problem that comes to him is

very certain to turn out inferior work. \ There ^^^^ "

-may-iiHYe""be^ geniuses whose work was always

the result of swift and sure intuition, jbut none of

them is practising in landscape or any other branch

of design at present.

v^Speaking generally, the -question- of use is first to be considered. Use may be defined in two ways, the practical and the esthetic. 1 Of course all design is fundamentally practical, inasmuch as it aims to give the best solution of any problem with which one is working. rWhatever is to be designed must perform its duties thoroughlyj bu^ tiiat-i'S'- not -enough, -..It. must also perform them ■M« gracefully, for the day has gone by when it was thought that objects of use need not be attractive. J -In fact, if a useful object is repellent in appear- ^ee its very ugliness often militates against its usefulness. 1^ Every solution of a utilitarian problem should appear to solve the situation so completely that one cannot behold it without a feeling of satisfaction. Thus beautiful surroundings of

..4

L^ one sort or another are created, and these in turn have a direct influence upon the lives of those who can see them and live among themr^

If the design stops short with the mere fulfilling of some utilitarian purpose, it will probably not be entirely practical ; it must be satisfactory in appearance as well as in use, or it will not attain the highest degree of practicability. \ Even though the roads be well graded, the bridges strong, the walks laid out in such a manner as to facilitate circulation, and the plant masses so located as to screen objectionable views or to enhance existing onesjthe result may be beautiful ; or it may be that the strong insistence upon practicability has made the function of the various parts too obvious, and the ideas of beauty, for which the design was created, have been lost. A great deal of study is often required in order that the finished design should appear unstudied, that is to say, spontaneous.

The esthetic and the practical should always appear together. It is no less necessary that the practical conjoin with the esthetic, in order that a work of design produce the greatest amount of pleasure.

A picture, for instance, may be very beautiful

/" in itself, and yet if it is hung in a dark corner, or where the light reflects from its surface so as to interfere with its enjoyment, it is decidedly out of place, and is therefore bad design. Design in this and every other case, as far as final usage is concerned, deals as much with the placing of the object as with the object itself.

In landscape, a plant grouping or a piece of sculpture, an architectural accessory or a vista, may be beautiful in themselves, but if they are placed in wrong relation to their surroundings, they are *'bad design."

How is one to judge of the proper interrelation of the parts of a design ? This is again a question of use. The province of a designer is to combine the material with which he has to work to the best possible advantage. Every part of a design must be placed where it can function freely and to the best advantage. It must not only perform its function well, but must look as if it did. Painters often meet with the reverse of this difficulty. In working out compositions where the human figure appears, they often find that it is impossible for the model to assume the supposedly graceful poses which had appeared easy to them when they were thinking only of lines and not of functions. All true beauty is functional. It is said that the human body is beautiful because it expresses its functions well. The function, then, should always appear unmistakably, whether it be mainly practical or esthetic or both in combination.

It can safely be said that a beautiful design is never the result of chance. It is only in very rare cases that things have happened to be beautiful, at least so far as the handiwork of man is concerned. Wherever one is struck by a beautiful combination of landscape and architecture, whether it be Durham Cathedral, on its river bluff, dominating the landscape (Fig. 2), or the torii of Miyajima, enhancing the beauty of the sacred waters (Fig. 3), it is certain to be the product of consummate art, and not a happy accident. To be sure, the conditions of location were taken advantage of in both cases by the types of structure selected, but it was the accomplished designer who welded the diverse elements into a harmonious whole, and brought out in all its perfection the consummate work of art.

Design is an expression of man's attitude towards nature. It is universal, and the underlying ideas are the same in all cases. Since landscape design is only one of the kindred branches of gen-

Figure 3. THE TORII AT MIYAJIMA, JAPAK eral design, it follows that it is exactly like all the other provinces of design, such as architecture, painting, music, and literature, so far as general principles go. Its own individual characteristics are due to the fact that the landscape-designer has certain unique conditions imposed upon him by the limitations of his problem. I These conditions are quite different from those with which his brother-designers have to deal, but he has also the satisfaction of knowing that he has certain glorious opportunities which it would be impossible for them to take advantage of in their respective fields.

Landscape design as an art is less artificial than any other form of design because it deals almost entirely with natural objects in formal or informal combinations. The landscape-designer uses trees and shrubs instead of spots of paint. He uses the real sky instead of an artificial representation of one, and his hills and ravines should appear as the results of natural forces rather than as man's creation.

In every form of design, structure, as a fulfilment of conditions, is of paramount importance. This structure may be the rocky framework of the landscape or the skeleton of a building. The remainder of the problem, the esthetic treatment of this structural part, is a question of means to an end. No matter how much or how little enrichment appears, it must always recognize the function of the parts upon which it is built.

Landscape design in the abstract may be termed a problem in the composition of areas. Areas have only two dimensions, length and breadth ; but for the final consideration of the design scheme the designer must constantly keep in mind the three dimensions, length, breadth, and depth. This is because the design is to be viewed from different points. In drawings and sketches, however, only two of these dimensions can be treated at one time. The plan and elevation must constantly be correlated in order to produce a satisfactory result, and different elevations should be drawn from the same plan.

The failure to observe this principle carefully is one of the great weaknesses of French architecture. A fine enthusiasm for beautiful geometrical design often permits the plan to become an abstraction, beautiful in appearance rather than in function, and from many aspects the elevations frequently appear weak. A building

Figure 4. TWO DIFFERENT ELEVATIONS OF THE SAME PLAN

30 LANDSCAPE GAEDENINO

planned in such fashion is designed to be seen from only one or two stated positions.

The landscape-designer must prepare his work with much greater conscientiousness, since it will be seen from a variety of positions. If elevations are drawn from several different aspects, and all ''compose" well, — that is to say, seem to have the proper space relations,^a satisfactory design in three dimensions is assured. This is Rodin's method of working in sculpture. He models entirely for the silhouette of his figure from all possible positions. This accounts in a measure for his magnificent results.

As may easily be seen in a photograph, all masses of three dimensions appear to the eye, or rather pictorially, as areas possessing only two dimensions. One actually beholds only width and height, for the impression of depth is an illusion.

\ — ^ Landscape design may safely be defined as the satisfactory and consequently beautiful composition of natural areas — shapes of earth, trees, and sky — in three dimensions.

As used in this book, the term composition means the "putting together" of certain various elements in such a way as to produce an appear-

/ ance of unity and harmony. It is the assimilation of all the different parts of a problem and tlieir amalgamation into one underlying design idea. . Every design should bear the stamp of man's handiwork, and yet the trees, shrubs, walls, roads, and other features should not appear to be *' pressed into service." Any element in the design that is not perfectly assimilated and harmonized with the surrounding parts in accordance with the basic idea is not composed to the best advantage.

It is a matter of frequent occurrence that the client may wish to introduce elements quite foreign to the spirit of the designer's scheme, and these elements, though they may be either architectural or horticultural, will often seem hardly possible of assimilation. It is then a question of omitting such elements altogether or of ruining an otherwise satisfactory scheme. In case the element under consideration seems worth all the rest of the scheme, it necessitates the re-designing of the problem so that everything will harmonize, and the client's pet ideas will have an appropriate setting. This has often been done where some accessory, such as a statue, a well-head, or a fountain required '' naturalizing"; that is, the designing of a favorable location so as to

Figure 5. FOUNTAIN FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS, FLORENCE,

ITALY

make it seem in harmony with the surroundings.

This is illustrated in Figures 5 and 6. It is assumed that the f ountainhead, which is one of the features of the big basin in the Boboli Gardens, has been transported to another locality, and is to be used as the principal accent in a fair-sized garden. Two solutions of this problem are shown in Figure 6, the position of the fountain being indicated by a spot of black. /jOertain garden accessories demand favorable

Figure 6a. SCHEME FOE THE " NATURALIZATION '' OP THE FOUNTAIN FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS (Figure 5)

34 LANDSCAPE GARDENINa

^ location from their very nature. A sun-dial, to be of any service, must be placed in an open space, or it will not receive the rays of the sun. A statue, on the other hand, looks rather pitiable when exposed to the noonday glare, with no shade at hand. Any delicacy of detail is lost in a statue placed in an exposed position, as the reflection of the sun from its smooth surface is too dazzling to permit careful appreciation.

The naturalization of a feature may be carried to absurd extremes. For instance, an Italian well-head might be introduced into Norman-English surroundings. If the landscape-designer felt that the nationality of the well-head should be carried rigidly throughout the scheme, the result would be an Italian design which could not fail to / be in discord with the dwellings for which the garden was intended. The well-head might, however, be considered as an exotic accent only, and in that case could be harmonized merely by colors and shapes. That would seem to be the only sensible solution.

The same principles of composition obtain in landscape that hold true of every other art: each part must be subordinate to the whole ; every part of a design must articulate with every other part,

Figure 6b. ANOTHER SCHEME FOR THE " NATURALIZATION OF THE FOUNTAIN FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS (Figure 5)

serving to enhance the entire scheme rather than insisting upon its own importance.

The disposition of areas in landscape falls, broadly speaking, into two large classes, known technically as the formal and the informal arrangements. In each case the handling of the areas is distinctive. | The points of primary consideration are the same, whichever type of design is to be employed ; but the style chosen determines the method of approach, which differs markedly in the two classes. Informal design may be called a study of space relations, and formal design a study of lines.

No one can listen to a conversation about landscape design, even for a very few minutes, without hearing the "formal and the informal schools" mentioned, probably with no slight degree of bitterness on one side or the other. It is the survival of an ancient feud between those who claim that every planting scheme should seem to be the work of nature herself, without suggestion or interference from man, and those who are equally positive in asserting that every piece of planting should bear the impress of the designer, nature being quite evidently subordinated to his will.

Those who really understand informal planting

Photograph by The Garden Cities and Town Planning Assn., London

Figure 7. PLANTING TO BREAK THE LINE OF TRANSITION BETWEEN A BUILDING AND ITS SURROUNDINGS have no quarrel with, the formalists, if only they will admit the usefulness of the informal school. It is the sentimental "landscaper" who has slid over the surface of things who alone is bold enough to state that nature will take care of herself in a harmonious fashion about the artificial habitations of man, though unrestricted in any way. It must be a very crabbed and perverse formalist who will not acknowledge the beauties of informal design, and it must be an equally narrow-minded informalist who will admit no good in the opposite school. At any rate, the extremists run the best chance of being misunderstood.

The conditions governing a problem, such as location, use, extent, topography, and other existing natural surroundings, the style of architecture, present or proposed, and the taste of the client, will determine the style to be employed.

In most cases it is very desirable to use native material in planting rather than to go far afield, though the fact that a specimen is indigenous to a locality is not sufficient in itself to warrant its use in a planting scheme. Its shape, color, or habits of life may unfit it for use in the particular type of problem in hand. The golden elder, Samhucus

Canadensis aurea (Fig. 34), wMcli, it is said, was first found growing native, would not harmonize with a typical native planting scheme in any case, but could be made to harmonize with a more gardenesque-like treatment. Sumac, with its irregular branches, brilliant coloring, and general informal appearance, would not do at all for city planting.

In the city home the selection of trees and shrubs is not controlled by natural features, such as existing plant material and contours, for city conditions are artificial, and a naturalistic treatment would serve only to accentuate the artificiality. Evergreens, provided they can withstand smoke conditions, may here be used to advantage, considering them as units of a whole mass rather than as a natural part of their surroundings. They seem to have an inherent stiffness which fits them for artificial conditions.

Trees and shrubs in city planting are useful only for contrast of form and color. Woodland conditions would seem as much out of place in stiff city surroundings as would a collection of topiary work and hybrid roses under natural forest conditions, because its very nature would lead one to question its appearance among such uncongenial surroundings. One would wonder, despite himself, just how much per foot the land was worth which had been devoted to the growing of lawn grass, and this would interfere with a sense of enjoyment. The informality of appearance of a lawn of any extent among piles of stone and brick, city traffic, smoke and noises, would create somewhat the same impression as white Jiannels at a formal evening party.

On account of the different conditions which prevail, a specialized plant may be used to advantage in the city, while its type is more suitable for the country, because its hint of artificiality will more readily harmonize with the surroundings. Nevertheless, only such trees and shrubs as will withstand smoke conditions can be used in civic planting schemes.

The surroundings of all dwellings should partake at least in some measure of the artificiality of the architectural features, for this tends toward unity. The line of division between the turf and the buildings is always harsh, and something should be done to soften the transition and make it more gradual. This can be accomplished by the use of vines, which will climb over the sides of the house, or by grouping shrubs about the foundation. In this way the house will seem to be more -I closely welded to its setting (Fig. 7) .

It is remarkable to note how few people have grasped this very simple principle. In many of our cities, particularly in the Middle West, it would seem as if the owners had scraped away from the building all planting possible, and deposited it at a safe distance, for as a rule none of the plant material seems to bear any relation to the building itself. (See Fig. 39.)

The architect can often help in making a building suitable for planting. For instance, in architectural gardens a simple wall treatment will be more in keeping with the composition of large areas than a more complex handling of the architectural surfaces. But where the planting is restricted to a few varieties and is elaborated only by a careful selection of accent plants, the wall surface may be designed so as to attract more attention than in the preceding instance; for this may be done without danger of competition between plant and architectural features.

If a complex and conventional treatment is imposed by surroundings, it may be more readily expressed when formal planting lines are the ruling f factor. I Planting and architecture, when used together, are interdependent, and must possess sim- j ilar characteristics. /

! Walls emphasize the architectural features, and \ in planting a walled garden care should be taken that the plants are not out of scale with the garden by being too large or too small. On account of the dominance of the walled inclosure, it is not necessary to insist too strongly upon repetition in the planting; consequently plants used in a garden scheme of this type may be more gardenesque and highly specialized, both as regards the filler and accent shrubs (see planting chapter). Contrast, always an element of interest, is gained by j this arrangement. "^

The use of walls, gates, stairways, balustrades, and other constructive and decorative features concerns the landscape-designer as much as the architect, and he has every right to use them as freely as plant material wherever the occasion warrants. He may use a wall instead of a hedge, or substitute steps for a grade wherever the I formality of architectural surroundings seems to j demand. Wliile the major emphasis is here laid upon plant material, it is not intended in the least I to minimize the importance of architectural feat- I ures in landscape work. — y

44 LANDSCAPE GAEDENINO

Naturalistic planting does not necessarily imply the use of tlie informal style, nor does formal planting necessitate topiary work and parterre bedding. In many cases, such as Thomas Circle in Washington, D. C, bedding plants are used to their best advantage amid formal surroundings. In fact, conditions like these are best for the use of bedding plants, inasmuch as they will withstand city conditions, and on account of their formality and very evident subordination to lines and forms, they possess the requisite stiffness and precision.

Most people, when seeing a bit of greenery, think only of the interest of the plant itself, whether it be worthy or not. The idea of something growing finds a ready response anywhere, and consequently naturalistic planting within city limits would detract from the building or monument with which it was associated. Any very evident grouping and clipping of bedding plants to produce a certain definite effect leaves no doubt in the mind of the beholder as to just what the effect was which the designer wished to produce, irrespective of the success of his design.

While, theoretically, the trained landscape-designer should have an absolutely free hand, and should know which scheme of all others would be best suited to Ms problem, the tastes of his client must nevertheless be taken into consideration to a greater or less extent. Here the determining factor will be the balance struck between the tactfulness of the designer and the obstinacy of the client.

\( Every design scheme has natural limitations which clip the wings of imagination, and the tastes of a client who has little or no education along esthetic lines is a limitation second to none. Moreover, the difficulty will be increased by the fact that people who have little esthetic development are seldom aware of this lack. If the designer is able, by broad training and experience, to produce in such circumstances a result that will please a comparatively uneducated taste, and yet appeal as beautiful to those who understand the subject, it should be a source of greater satisfaction to him than if he had had a free hand, and no limitations with which to cope. A designer who conceives a scheme without consulting his client's tastes and wishes will meet with occasional disappointments, and he certainly deserves to do so. j

All types of design deal first with the total area of the problem as a boundary line. In the formal type this area is to be cut up and divided into smaller areas by means of lines. In this connection, walls, hedges, walks, or bedding (Fig. 8) are considered as line-divisions. The line is therefore the dominant factor in the disposition of the areas in the formal type, and attention is paid rather to the arrangement of the material employed than to the character of the material itself. Accordingly the areas in formal design are close, compact, and severe, and the planting is restrained (Fig. 9). The idea is to create certain shapes which shall serve the purposes of practicability and beauty, but the internal composition of these masses is a matter of decidedly secondary importance. It is a design of form rather than of color, and the individual interests of plants are not considered of much moment.

A greater freedom characterizes informal design both in its arrangement and in the class of the material used. Line, the outlines of areas, is here considered as subordinate to the mass or area itself, and is studied only after the areas have been placed in proper relationships. The large areas, whether considered as planting masses or as open lawn, may be moved about freely so as to appear to the best advantage within the limits of the property before the character of their own boundaries

H as lines is determined upon (Fig. 10). Of course this is all done in rough preliminary sketches, only sufficiently accurate to convey the idea.

This does not mean that there should be a careless and unstudied use of line in informal design. On the contrary, it is often more difficult to design satisfactory lines of this type. Freedom in appearance is not always the result of spontaneity.

Briefly, the major differences may be thus summed up: in the informal school line is determined by the mass, and in the formal school it is the mass which is determined by the line.

The Japanese school of landscape is often differentiated from the formal and informal types. It will be found, nevertheless, upon analysis, to be merely a strictly informal type used upon such a small scale as to give the appearance of formality. It is a design of irregularity, but very highly conventionalized (Fig. 11).

The popular opinion of a Japanese garden seems to imply the presence of a stone lantern or two, a few irises, a straggly wisteria, and enough water to *' explain" the presence of an unstable bridge; also the idea seems to prevail that these need not be at all in harmony w4th their surroundf^ ings. j Now, the Japanese garden proper is a very beautiful and carefully constructed thing, the result of years of traditions and Oriental conventions of life, which cannot at once be grasped by the Westerner, but will richly repay a careful _ study. \

^^ Most of the Japanese gardens found in this part of the world are treated f addishly, as stage property or pieces of scenery, and consequently they cannot be considered as the outgrowth of conditions. In fact, some essentially Japanese detail is often introduced into an entirely foreign scheme — an Italian garden for instance — in such a way as to spoil both the intrinsic beauty of the detail and ^ the whole garden scheme as well. Y^ If a carefully designed Japanese garden is secluded, and so placed as to be seen by itself alone, as it would be under native conditions, it can be used anywhere for its individual interest and picturesqueness. It cannot, however, be used as a part of an ordinary garden scheme with any de- / gree of satisfaction.

. In both the formal and the informal types there

\ must be some dominant design idea with which the

\ rest of the scheme must be harmonized, and this is

j true of all design, as has already been insisted

Figure 10. INFORMAL PLANTING PLANS upon. This is the principle of unity, the subordination of all parts to the main scheme. —4

In the formal type of planting, architectural lines will probably be emphasized, while the informal type will lay greater stress upon the horticultural features.

In the garden at Wilton House, for example, the architecture is quite the dominating note, the plants being used simply as spots of color for decorative purposes and not for any intrinsic interest. The very formal architectural terrace depends for its adornment upon statues and vases, and descends to a formal inclosure, which is walled, and accented in like fashion with vases and statuary. A naturalistic tree bank in the background renders the accent of the dividing-wall very marked. If the treatment within the wall were as naturalistic as is the exterior planting, the wall would seem entirely useless and out of place. Any planting within the inclosure must appear as restrained and severe as the inclosing wall, or it will not be in keeping with the whole. Conversely, if the formal planting stopped short at a naturalistic tree mass without any defining wall, there would be a shock. But the problem is well handled. The space is divided geometrically by walks, with sharply accentuated edges, and no matter how brilliant the colors within the planting areas, all shapes have been subordinated to architectural lines, and no plant is used for its individual interest. This is an excellent example of restrained planting.