Am I a garden designer yet?
Here I am, writing my first blog post in August, after officially leaving my last job to pursue a career in garden design in April. I make that 4 months! And yet I haven’t once told anyone directly that I am a “garden designer”.
Have I studied garden design and completed a garden design diploma? Yes. Am I running a business in garden design? Yes. Have I designed any gardens yet? Yes. But I am yet to design my breakthrough garden, and therefore I am yet to consider myself a garden designer.
Is it a confidence thing? Perhaps. But it’s probably more of a maths and science thing. Art is not an exact science and there are no universal formulae involved in design. No equations involved in designing a garden (absolutely not the case when building a garden of course). Somehow for me, this has translated to there being no universal formula in deciding what makes a garden designer, a garden designer. And as a logical gal who has always loved equations and formulae, that’s a bit of an issue.
The world of design is so fascinating. I’ve always appreciated beauty in both living and non-living things. However, since becoming a garden designer(!!) I consider how much or how little design work has gone into almost everything I come across. Renovating two houses has also amplified this eye-mind connection.
Sitting in this co-working space, I can look across the room and tell you which posters and artwork are sitting behind perspex instead of glass and which would look better surrounded by a border instead of an immediate frame. I know which website the semicircular sofa is from my hours trawling the furniture shops online. I appreciate both the layout and the finishing touches in the bathroom which make for a seamless toilet experience. I am disappointed by how poorly planned the kitchen area is, how hideous and small the kitchen bin is, and how the trendily exposed cables don’t all follow the same trend. I have two different routes of walking to my desk, and I wonder each time why the table and desk layout wasn't wholly considered in such an arty workspace.
Living in Bath is an absolute blessing for an abundance of reasons, although its beauty can stall me to the nines. I love that Sham Castle was ordered to be built just to please Ralph Allen’s morning eyes. I love how perfectly straight the line is across the back of Marlborough buildings, despite it being built on a hill in the late 18th century. I know there are many, many buildings in Bath and around the world that have more impressive engineering features, but I look along that line and I am moved each time.
What moves me more than anything though, is Bath’s outdoor spaces. I love the lime avenue of Victoria park, which is just as practical as it is pretty. I love the “lions with balls” marking the entrance to the Royal Avenue and green spaces. I love the iron detailing on the bridges and gates in the parks. I love the mown paths along the Skyline walking route, designed to lead you to the best viewpoints of our pretty little city. I love the sequoia next to the train track in Sydney gardens, which is just as commanding as it is stunning. You might not know it, but when you’re on the train to Bath Spa from London Paddington, that tree is telling you that nature thrives in Bath, and nature works for Bath. Bath’s trees were planted to compliment and enhance its architectural beauty, and its unique position in a gentle valley surrounded by greenery. There are purposeful plants within the city of Bath, and many more naturally occurring plants surrounding the city. You could call the former “art plants” and the latter “science plants”. This also helps to explain what we do as garden designers: choosing the right plants for the right place, to bring beauty within an area that will both compliment and enhance their natural surroundings.
SO thanks @nature for bridging my gap between art and science. And thank you reader for reading. Now let’s bridge your gaps. Let’s compliment and enhance your surroundings. Let’s talk about your garden.
