Weeding the Web

Chelsea Flower Show 2014: Luciano Giubbilei's Best in Show

Of course, you'll just have to take my word for it, but, standing on the edge of the Laurent-Perrier garden at Chelsea Flower Show yesterday, I predicted to myself that it was quite possibly Best in Show.

Like Luciano Giubbilei's gardens generally, it didn't give a massive instant hit. At first glance, it didn't even immediately seem like him, as the planting, which included foxgloves, verbascum, aconite and Tellima grandiflora, looked positively rumbustuous compared with his characteristically carefully controlled designs, inspired by Italian classicism.

However, although it's a quiet garden, you only have to contemplate it to find that it's also full of movement. Everything contrasts. Everything has its balancing opposite. All very classical. And very yin and yang.

Water wells up imperceptibly in two circular pools at opposite corners of the garden. Through careful flow control it appears motionless, but the pools feed the rills that deliver the water to the pond in the centre of the garden.

The circular pools not only contrast with the right-angled turn taken by the rills early on their path, but with the rectangular central pond. The ripples, caused by the water pouring from the mouth of the rills on either side of the pond, meet and create a scintillation of light and movement, the antithesis of their source.

American artist Ursula von Rydingsvard's sculpture of layered cedar echoes the ripples of the pond and its diagonal placing leads the eye into the garden, while breaking the strong rectangular lines.

Light and dark panels give a rhythm to the background, the flower spikes are counter-balanced by the rounded shrubs, stone cut with chiselled precision contrasts with the random gravelliness of the aggregate, which itself complements the wooden sculpture placed on it.

All this combines to make this, for my money, the most tranquil design at Chelsea. Just taking time to take in the details has a calming effect.

Some people couldn't resist delving deeper, though. Perhaps this underwater photographer is actually praying to the spirit of the garden.

However it takes you, Best in Show was a well-deserved accolade for a designer who has complete control of his designs.

See Landscape Juice for a more general view of this year's Chelsea Flower Show, and to hear an interview with Luciano.

Garden product review: WoodBlocX raised bed

Sunshine, a bag of blocks and a clear piece of ground. It was perfectly obvious what I'd be doing last weekend, after my WoodBlocX raised bed kit arrived last Friday.

You've surely seen WoodBlocX. Not only are they advertised widely in gardening publications, but they gained a certain kudos from attracting a £75,000 thumbs-up from Dragon's Den's Peter Jones when he offered to invest in 2012.

The raised bed I chose (kindly provided by WoodBlocX for review) is just about the smallest available - 2'6" square and 14 inches high (750 x 750 x 350 mm).  Not an adventurous size, admittedly, but two adjacently placed raised beds 8' x 4' have taught me the extraordinary mound of soil that has to be moved in our otherwise imperceptibly sloping garden to provide a level footprint for long edges. 

There turned out to be another reason, however, why I was profoundly relieved it wasn't any bigger.

About WoodBlocX

Before I go into that, though, there's a huge amount to like about WoodBlocX, including its desire to make its product as eco-friendly as possible.

• The blocks are made pine from sustainable forests
• The dowels are made from recycled plastic
• The mighty metal ground spikes are forged in the West Midlands
• The firm can trace its history in the timber business back to 1890
• You don't need to dig foundations, as you would with brick walls
• No cement needs to be lugged around
• The wood is guaranteed for 20 years, though, they say, will probably last longer
• It might work better than masonry in some situations, as wood will be more forgiving of tension forces and won't crack with ground movement or frost

Assembling the bed

The most important thing is to ensure the ground is level. I used a spirit level and sharp sand. It's fiddly, but sand makes it a lot easier.

I made sure that the first layer of bricks was near-as-dammit level (I admit that the bubble wasn't absolutely between the lines on each side of the square, but it was extremely close) and I ensured the blocks themselves sat level across their width. I'd already put in the dowels. The second layer of bricks was hammered on without problem - I thought the shorter bricks might jam against each other and the corners, as the fit was very snug, but a bit of bashing set them into place.

With the next set of dowels I had a problem. They have a flange that has to sit flush with the surface of the block, in the recessed holes. Most did, some wouldn't.  I was inclined to ignore them, but just knew I'd be storing up trouble, as the next brick on top wouldn't sit down fully.

Getting a dowel out again proved beyond me. They have wedges in the end that jam into the dowel below. I gave in and fetched Husband. Husband, instead wrenching them out in manly, "Me, muscles" fashion, got canny, produced a file, and filed round the edge of the dowels till I could hammer them in flush.

The third layer of bricks proved harder to seat, as not all of the dowels lined up exactly. Here it became a two-man job as Husband levered one dowel into position with the flat of the file, while I bashed away at the brick.  Was this a problem with the original soil levels or, as Husband pointed out, with the dowel holes, some of which looked ever so slightly offset?

After that came the coping. This went on without a problem, although you do have to saw the top of each dowel off to let the coping sit correctly.

My verdict

As I said, there's a lot to like about Woodblocx. The bed is very cute, and the bricks look smart. It's darn sturdy and although it comes with a mighty steel spike to bash into the ground through one of the empty dowel holes to anchor the bed in place, I didn't bother. I can't imagine it'll shift at all.

However, would I use it to make another raised bed? No.

First, price and time. The 8'x4' beds I have cost £80 each + £10 delivery from the local garden centre. They're very sturdy, made of 2 rectangles of roof joists placed on top of each other, screwed together with a metal plate on each side. Even along their length (2438 mm) they don't bulge. Once I'd levelled the ground, they went up in 10 minutes.

A similarly sized but slightly smaller Woodblocx raised bed would cost £213.98 + £35 delivery and, as I've explained, it doesn't slide together quite a smoothly as I'd like for that money. Also, according to the instruction leaflet that came with the kit, for every 1.5m of wall, you need to incorporate a buttress or cross-brace provided to prevent bulging. More bricks, more hammering.  As it was, It took a good chunk of Sunday morning for us to finish.

Which brings us on to physical effort. Each layer of my very small bed required 20 dowels (actually I left 4 out of the top layer). The dowels, which it is recommended you bang into place with a 2lb lump hammer, needed, I found, at least 5 strikes to get them into place. That's a lot of hitting with a heavy object, and I can quite happily knock nails in with a claw hammer till the cows come home.  I thought maybe I was being a wimp, but even Husband pronounced it consistently hard work.

By the end of the build, my wrists, elbows, shoulders and neck ached with a vengeance and continued painful for a couple of days. That was why I was profoundly grateful I hadn't chosen a larger structure. 

Would I recommend Woodblocx?

If you hanker after something that looks smart and different, and don't mind the cost or sustained hammering, then this will fit the bill. There are also the plus points listed earlier.

From their website, it's clear that you can construct all sorts of structures that are more complicated than a raised bed - even ponds and retaining walls. The one thing that might tempt me back are the round raised beds, as this is a shape you don't find often.

However, it's not Lego, whatever the impression. Wood is a forgiving material, but you still need to be very precise in levelling the ground. I could have done with dowels that fitted the holes and didn't need filing down. Some of the bricks needed their holes tidying up before use as the wood had feathered in places, and I did find that a couple of the coping pieces split slightly as they were hammered on. I also thought, for the price, it would be nice not to have to shorten the dowels in the final layer.

You'll probably find a number of WoodBlocX reviews popping up on blogs soon (if you're reviewing a kit, do let me know and I'll add a link here). In the meantime, pop over to Marksvegplot.

Mark's built a much bigger WoodBlocX raised bed and his experiences are worth reading as a comparison with mine. He doesn't mention the hammering, but neither did he use the wedges in the dowels, which I suspect would have made quite a difference to the effort involved.

I'd say that this is an interesting addition to construction options in the garden but, for anyone who is happy with a slightly more utilitarian look to their raised beds, WoodBlocX is probably better considered for more complicated structures than plain squares and rectangles. 

UPDATE: WoodBlocX review from My Garden School's Andy McIndoe: How to Build a Raised Bed That Lasts on the Vegetable Plot

Vegplotting cunningly builds in advance: The One Where I Heart Raised Beds Even More

Garden review: miNiaTURE Garden Show, The Strand Gallery, London (Part 2)

Following the first half of my miNiATURE Garden Show review, here's the second instalment and a look at its success.

Five more designs held the stage. 

Over Under, by Myles Baldwin. A garden to maximise green space, with a shady area below, a mezzanine level (where the figures are) and a green roof. We weren't the only people to spot a resemblance to Tracy Island, but curator Tom Harfleet doubted whether Thunderbirds' influence had stretched as far as Australia.  

Downstairs, we found Full Circle? by Andy Sturgeon. A garden of cone-shaped crystalline forms, blackened on the outside by man's destruction of the environment, but perfect inside, gilded to represent the value we should put on our plant life, as we (and wildlife) rely on it for food, medicine and climate.

 

To Die For, by Wilson McWilliam Studio. Really stretching possibilities, the design aims to reproduce the sense of danger found on cliff edges, waterfalls and mountain tops and those are meant to be full grown trees in the abyss. It certainly made me feel a little queasy, thinking about standing on top of the real thing.

They also wanted to point out that "no model figures were harmed or injured in the making of this garden"...

 

 

Coast, by Jim Fogarty. The shelter in the centre of the garden represents a water molecule under pressure and the bursting bubble of overdevelopment. The stripy ribbon sculpture represents a beach towel and human interaction with beach environments. Water echoes the sound of waves and natural planting recalls the sand dunes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Creek End, by John Brookes.  This design is based on an actual garden that was built in 2012 in America, making the link between the house and its view of an inlet from the sea. This, with Adam Frost's A World in 21st Century Stone, took the prize for a classically well-proportioned design that instantly pleased.

So, some attractive designs and an enjoyable world in close-up, but were the designers ultimately successful in fulfilling the intention of the show? This is what it was meant to do:

"The aim of miNiATURE is to enable designers to move away from designs that have limitations such as restricted budgets, planting season or focus on awards and to instead give the opportunity to experiment and explore innovative designs through the media [sic] of 3D printing along with traditional modelling."

Well, what struck me forcefully as I trotted round was that it felt very like a Lilliputian version of Chelsea and Hampton Court. To Die For, which looks to to be the only one to have used 3D printing throughout - and about which Wilson and McWilliam are quoted as saying, "We feel able to explore ideas that would either be impossible in reality or unfeasible perhaps because of cost or the construction challenge." - was really the only design that seemed to take the show's intent to heart.

Several of the designs, like Sarah Eberle's, we were told, had already been worked out for other purposes, even though they'd never made it to fruition. 3D printing offers the chance for curves and shapes that would be difficult to model in other ways (Jo Thompson's spiral staircase would have been a headache without it) but there are quite a few linear, blocky constructions that presented few flights of fancy.

John Brookes produced a version of an existing garden and is quoted as saying, "3D doesn't affect how I work at all. I think that you could say that I am not computer orientated!" Which, I hate to say, completely misses the point.

I did wonder if the actual software was a brake on creativity - if you don't know the software well, then you're limited to the design tools you understand. And if everyone's using the same tools, the danger must be that a similar feel emerges.

But garden designer and one of the exhibition's curators, Tom Harfleet assured me not. Some of the designers hired someone to translate their design into CAD (which was then fed into the 3D printer), others handed over their paper design to the curators and they sorted it out.

It was with a view to gaining media attention that the decision was made to invite ten of the world's leading garden designers to submit ideas but in the midst of this elevated company I have to admit to a degree of disappointment. This is not to say that a lot of the designs weren't very engaging - I'd be more than happy to walk round Full Circle?, A World of 21st Century Stone, Stage and Over Under. And It works, to an extent, as a show to demonstrate the potential of 3D printing, but not as a show of unlimited imagination. Tom wasn't shy in calling Chelsea Flower Show "stagnant". And I wonder if this tiny Chelsea hasn't made a rather large point.

Are our big designers so tuned to the needs and demands of large shows with their focus on advertising the industry, so used to restricting a garden to an individual brief, and so focussed on the criteria most likely to win awards, that flights of fancy and gardening innovation are out of the question?

Perhaps it's unrealistic to expect any garden design to look very much different from what we see now - the only tweaks being whether the look is trad or contemporary, stone or steel and perspex. Much debate recently, especially on Thinkingardens, has centred around the need to recognise gardens as art, to elevate their standing.

What can we say if, given the chance to do anything at all, designers come out with more of the same?

It will be interesting to see how the show develops. This is, after all, the first attempt - as 3D printing's possibilities are explored further, perhaps designers will find it easier to break out. As the show goes on a world tour, more gardens will be added, before returning to England later in the year. And next year, if it happens again, the show will be an open competition, which might see some very different designs in the offing.

What do you think? Am I being harsh, or has this show exposed a restricted mindset that is an inherent problem in the ascendancy of garden design?

More photos at City Planter's The World's Smallest Garden Show.

Garden review: miNiaTURE Garden Show, The Strand Gallery, London (Part 1)

The miNiATURE garden show, which ran for three days last week in The Strand Gallery, near Charing Cross Station, invited ten of the world's top garden designers to go mad.

The opportunity to create scale-models, along and the freedom afforded by the new 3D printing technology, aimed to release them from the constraints of health and safety, budgets, planting seasons, and materials and allow them to experiment and explore - and the rest of us to see what, unfettered, the cream of the profession would come up with.

I have to say, it was great fun. I'm always entranced by a miniature world, especially as here the models were not behind glass, but could be bent over, closely scrutinised, and regarded from "ground" view. As one did the latter on one's knees, it possibly looked like worship at the altar of Hortus, but what the heck?

Here's the first instalment of what we got to see:

Haute Couture, by Sarah Eberle. An outside courtyard, associated with a fashion house, with a catwalk, allowing both relaxation and photographic opportunities. Vibrant planting for summer. The tall funnels function as raincatchers for an irrigation system. It also shows the hazards of working with small plastic models. I'd have put my fat fingers in and righted it, but for the fear of knocking everything else over.

Stage, by Jo Thompson. Inspired by Baroque art and architecture, this swirls around a central stage and viewpoint. The spiral stairs are just the sort of thing that 3D printing makes so much easier than traditional modelling.  And there was real feel of colour and motion because of the spiralling out of the beds from the central point (not easy to photograph, though). 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vertigo, by Jamie Dunstan. A garden to complement a lakeside holiday home. The garden is suspended over the water, with a futuristic feel of multiple levels, a shady dining area below, herb, veg garden and greenhouse above (surely too hot! Oh, but I forgot: no contraints), with seating and entertaining area. 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A letter posted one million years ago, by Jihae Hwang. Inspired by the island of Dokdo, which might disappear any moment or regenerate itself, the wave forms surrounding it are a metaphor for the meaning of life. It was unfortunate that the blob representing the island looked mostly like something a passing animal might have - er - passed, and there's no specific viewpoint, making this so tough to photograph that I pretty much gave up.

A World in 21st Century Stone, by Adam Frost. Inspired by poured concrete and brutalist architecture, it's a community space to be enjoyed by all ages (there are pools to paddle in below, and a fire to gather round on top of the building) and also acts as a wildlife corridor in an urban environment. Concrete classicism, I'd say, in every sense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, that's half the show. It was much kinder to the feet than Chelsea and Hampton Court! I'll put the rest of the gardens up in the next (coming soon) post.

How well do you think the show's fulfilling its intention so far?  

Putting the Concept on Show

When is a conceptual garden not a conceptual garden?

When it’s a show garden, silly.

Visitors to Hampton Court this year surely found themselves questioning the difference as the conceptual and show gardens squared up to each other across the Garden Walk. And the contrast (actually, that should be comparison) was brought into stronger relief when I spoke to Judy Cornford who designed The Eye of the Internet Maze. “I entered it as a conceptual garden,” she said, “but they asked me to be a show garden.”

For me, The Eye of the Internet Maze was a quiet star. Its strong sculptural quality, with clean lines and contrasting textures, made it no surprise to find that Judy trained as a sculptor. She is also shameless in her use of puns.

Wine bottle water feature from Style Gardens: a DIY garden project

NB April 2016 Links to stylegardens.co.uk no longer exist, so I've removed them from the post below. 

Phew! Gorgeous day! And if there’s one thing to make you feel cooler, it’s sitting by water. Not to mention relaxing beside it with a glass of wine.

But what to do with all those wine bottles? Well, this idea from Style Gardens helped them to win Gold in the Royal Welsh Show in 2000 and nicely combines Adam’s ale with the nectar of the gods. 

Style Gardens’s website is, frankly, a puzzle to navigate, not least because all the pages seem to have the same address, so I can’t link you straight to the relevant pages. Find photos and description of the prize-winning garden and water feature under Garden Design on their Ideas page (see tabs along the top of the screen), and instructions on how to make it under Garden DIY on the Ideas page (you’ll need to click through a few more pages from there – just follow “projects”).

It is worth a mooch round their website, though, if you need some ideas and advice on garden design. Here’s an example: “One thing you learn when studying garden design is that circles ALWAYS work well... A circle is a very strong, geometric shape, and it 'draws the eye', as the jargon goes, meaning that it encourages the viewer to focus on the internal space, and makes it possible to ignore unsightly surroundings.”

Good. I’ve just decided on a round paved area in the middle of my vegetable patch!

Passing the Hours at Morville Dower House

The problem with going away to visit a distant garden is that you’re hostage to the weather. Which is why, last May, my husband and I found ourselves soaking up water like sponges as we took in the gardens of Morville Dower House in a downpour.

Morville is a very special place, despite the vagaries of Shropshire weather. Created by Dr Katherine Swift over twenty years, it marries the history of gardening with the history of the people who lived there, taking you through different historical periods and recognising different influences. Here’s what she says about it:

“Although the garden is divided into separate areas by high hedges, it is less a succession of garden ’rooms’, each leading into the next in an orderly sequence, than like a medieval church, with nave, transepts and aisles, choir and apse, little side-chapels and chantries, glimpsed sideways through arches and arcades in an ever-shifting perspective. There’s a transparency about it—the way an overture before an opera introduces all the themes that will be elaborated later—yet it retains its secrets, its ability to surprise.”

Planning a Winter Garden with Roddy Llewellyn

Sometimes nothing is drearier than a winter garden, especially in the wet. If you’re like me, you mostly grow annuals and perennials, and only clear up and cut down in early spring, in order to leave seed-heads for the birds and protect the soil over winter. So, right now, you and I are both looking at a drab, untidy muddle of rotting leaves and stems. Every year, I’m more tempted to do an autumn clear-up for that very reason.

But the view could look better with some structure and, in the post-Christmas lull,now is the moment to resolve (after all, it's nearly New Year) to create interesting view in time for next winter. I have a rather imprecise box ball coming along, but evergreens are not the only solution.

For other ideas, you could read The Winter Garden, an article on the website of well-known garden-designer, author and TV presenter Roddy Llewellyn (and while you’re thinking, “Wasn’t he…er?” Yes, friend of Princess Margaret).

Books for Gardeners: Green Grows the City by Beverley Nichols

Gardeners unacquainted with Beverley Nichols don’t know what they’re missing. And if you know a gardener who hasn’t yet enjoyed his books, you could effect the introduction this Christmas and solve a present problem. Nichols (1898-1983) goes largely unmentioned these days, although he was once a household name whose face appeared on advertising billboards and who mixed with the rich, famous and royal, counting talents such as Noel Coward among his friends.

Of all his many books, his gardening volumes remain the best known and are an entertaining blend of fact (gardening matters) and fiction (characters who dip in and out of the narrative). Some of them, I’m pleased to report, have recently been republished by Timber Press.  

Alnwick Garden: going the whole hog(wart)

The Duchess of Northumberland has appointed Disney-trained theme-park developer Christian Perdrier to bring his expertise to Alnwick Garden, according to the article Alnwick aims to Bloom with Disney Magic by Chris Tighe in the FT last Saturday (31st October). It’s a venue that Perdrier, alarmingly, refers to as “Alnwick resort”, although he denies wanting to turn it into a theme park.

Has your heart sunk? Apparently, we (the public) but want to absorb history through interactive methods, which, according to the article, may include “holograms, enactments and film special effects”.

AAAGH!