Discreet Ornamentalism, or When Is Not Enough Not Enough?

http://corcol.blogspot.com/2008/05/biedermeier.html

In October of 1996--just when the Guiliani urban gentrification party was in full swing--New York Times columnist, Julie V. Iovine, described a trend in design she referred to as the new ornamentalism. Observing how 1980's baroque had morphed into a hodgepodge of styles in the 1990s, Iovine advanced the tasteful restraint that had been championed nearly a century earlier in Edith Wharton's classic book, The Decoration of Houses.  New ornamentalism was described as being "a modern hybrid combining contemporary interpretations of the classical fitness that Wharton so admired with the small luxuries that elevate everyday comforts to a more sensual plane."  More directly put, it was "simplicity with resonance."

This particular approach to simplicity, however, resonated with a very high price.  It separated those who had it, from those who had it, but felt confident enough to flaunt their wealth in a seemingly "discreet" manner.  A vintage basket, made by a member of the Kikgongo tribe in the Congo, might be placed in singular view atop a custom-built, Shaker style table made of precious koa wood.  A gigantic Julian Schnabel work, dominating the entire living space of a downtown loft, could be viewed prominently from a Biedermeier chaise longue covered in Andean vicuña silk velvet. New ornamentalism spoke to hyper-indulgence, as well as one's ease living in a world unfettered by attachment to clutter, while imparting a lifestyle of private-jet panache.

Unfortunately, as a distinct decorative style, new ornamentalism never truly took hold. A significant impediment to its progress was that people who had it (and, more often did not have it), wanted to show it in a way so that other people would know it.  This meant the antique, hand-woven Aubusson rugs, auction house 18th century Chippendale chairs, and limited edition Wedgwood china sets, needed to be crammed into the same room.  Another issue was that while new ornamentalism did not necessarily promote minimalism, it resulted in creating pared down spaces that gave a deadpan impression.  It was as if one were confronted by an inside joke rendering a punchline of rooms that were beautiful to look at, but not necessarily comfortable to live in.

When The Decoration of Houses was published in 1897, Edith Wharton was not yet known as the famed writer she was to become.  Co-authored with the architect Ogden Codman Jr., this primer of interior design encouraged symmetry and balance over excessive ornament.  Unlike her Victorian contemporaries, Wharton believed that rooms and gardens functioned as theatrical sets for the characters who entered them, rather than those gardens and rooms being overpowering characters in themselves.  Nowhere is this more evident than in her novel, The Age of Innocence, in which she describes Newland Archer contemplating how his fiancée might decorate the drawing room of their future house.  The narrator muses that Archer "could not fancy how May would deal with it,"--that her tastes would most likely defer "cheerfully to the purple satin and yellow tuftings of [her family's] drawing-room, to its sham Buhl tables and gilt vitrines full of modern Saxe."  Archer, himself hopes that in this hypothetical rococo structure, with its "wainscoting of varnished yellow wood," he would at least be allowed to decorate his own library with "sincere" Eastlake furniture, and "plain new bookcases without glass doors."

The_Mount_from_the_Walled_Garden_by_David_Dashiell.jpg‎

The Mount, Wharton's own house situated in the Berkshires, functions as a lasting legacy of her aesthetic ideals.  Careful attention to the use of space, along with strong architectural elements, are incorporated to make the house a comfortable home. Interestingly, although Wharton and Codman favored luxury, they discouraged mixing and matching styles of differing locations and eras.  In this way, The Mount communicates a Thoreauian call, reminding us to "simplify, simplify”—albeit, simplifying to Wharton entailed only buying one Louis XVI armoire to accompany a directoire bedroom set.  And yet, most importantly, she asserts that decorating a room is a delicate balancing act: part mathematical, part historical, and for the most part, intuitive.  Through quality materials, experimentation, and a good study of the past, one simply just knows when the look is right.

The questions designers ask in our own century are strikingly similar to ones posed during the time in which Wharton lived. What makes a room both comfortable and tasteful? How does one know when to add a bit more or take away slightly less? Wharton’s era, however, was markedly different from the one we live in today.  The upperclasses of her time strove to mimic historical European models as a means of manufacturing an aura of cultural prestige and social domination. Currently, the Eurocentrism of the Gilded Age has been replaced by  modern-day Global Americanism, which, by the very nature of American society, reflects a mélange of many cultures with diverse histories. Given this, the mixing of various periods and styles becomes an unavoidable result, much to what would have been Wharton's chagrin.  Likewise, the boundary-less, and essentially boundless, movement of people, money and products across the planet has given a large swath of various classes access to well-designed items that are of good to very good quality without being exceptionally expensive.  There is also the sheer amount of information that has taken knowledge, once held by a select cadre of individuals, and literally democratized the principles of interior design.  The internet, cable television and magazine after magazine promising Better Homes and House Beautifuls proffer glossy images that can be found from bookstores to drugstores.  In this way, even a young couple, living in the sparsely populated town of Mist, Oregon, can conceivably have an abode that rivals that of any found in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  They simply have to travel sixty miles to Portland for furniture from Ikea; silk pillows, rugs and a distressed teak bench can be found at Home Goods; pre-matted gilded frames, marked down 40% at Michael’s Arts and Crafts, are perfect for a set of vintage architectural prints gotten at a yard sale in Vernonia; a mission style shelf is purchased at Target; china and stemware are acquired at Tuesday Morning in Beaverton.  When they arrive home, awaiting them on their front porch, is a very large package holding an 1811 Walker and Hughes grandfather clock, won on e-bay two weeks prior.  Edith Wharton, herself, could never have imagined such a world, but one wonders whether she would have relished or abhorred it.

Just as we are experiencing a revolution with the food we eat, organic vs. processed, there is similarly a revolution in the way we decorate our spaces.  Clutter is seen as the enemy, and is treated with as much disdain as artery-clogging trans fats.  Needless to say, in a world that has become extremely complicated and filled with sensory overload, a room free of chachkas and bric-a-brac does offer meditative calm that imparts a feeling of organization and efficiency. Yet, is it possible that, in our attempt to re-create a feng-shui world of zen simplicity, we have gone too far?  Has a diet of de-cluttering made us so apprehensive about anything perceived as extraneously decorative that we are left with rooms bordering on the ornamentally anorexic?  Perhaps, it is time to rethink Iovine's evocation of Wharton and approach discreet ornamentalism in a new manner.  Restraint should be the rule, but we should always keep in mind to incorporate luxurious elements of the sensual: venetian plaster on the walls, a gilt mirror, a silver tea service; or a vibrant color that highlights a particular chair.  In the wake of the real estate crash and ensuing economic crisis, new ornamentalism presently may mean forgoing the $12,000 Bottega Montana custom dining room tables and the $125,000 rare Adam urns.  Yet, we cannot underestimate how fortunate we are to live at this particular time when a convergence of factors makes it possible for an ordinary person to live with the kind of affordable refinement that was out of reach, not only when Wharton and Codman lived, but even when Iovine wrote her piece in the Times some fifteen years ago.  Whether our own aesthetic leans towards modernism or traditionalism, the basic rules are the same. "The supreme excellence is simplicity," Wharton assures us.  "Moderation, fitness, relevance--these are the qualities that give permanence to the work of the great architect."    And, in essence, these are the key elements that have always kept the House of Home from becoming the House of Mirth.

A digitized version of Edith Wharton and Ogden Codman Jr.'s 

The Decoration of Houses can be found at:

http://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/DLDecArts/DLDecArts-idx?type=article&did=DLDecArts.DecHouseWhar.i0008&id=DLDecArts.DecHouseWhar&isize=M&pview=hide

Glorious Summer...A Reverie

During these days, just before the solstice, when the howling wind and biting cold make any gardener long for warmer times (and warmer climes), June and July seem like distant memories.  The perennial beds lie barren from hard frosts that have scorched long stretches where flowers once bloomed.  This time of late dawn and early dark is distinct in that it brings a respite from the demands that come from tending any piece of earth.  Like a caesura in a sestina, the home gardener takes a pause from the poetry of creating a landscape.  These moments of reflection give space for one to assess the past growing season, while preparing for another one forthcoming, yet still months away.  As the snow falls on lifeless stalks, some comfort is offered from sitting beside the fire, perusing catalogs and making wish lists to fill imaginary borders. Contemplations, however, always inevitably bring me back to last summer.  There were layers of foxgloves leaning into the morning sunlight, as they presaged blue hydrangeas sharing the heat of August with hibiscus and Joe-Pye Weed. There were afternoon thunderstorms for recollection, and when the rains had ended, fingers lingered with the fresh scent of passing over bountiful mounds of rosemary and lavender. Beans and tomatoes, strawberries, raspberries, quinces and apples were complimented by handfuls of basil and peppermint. Chorus after chorus of cicadas sang as the hollyhocks faded; they boasted that the sultry, hazy hours of years to come would promise their return. Then, there is the rustling of branches bent low.  The crackling weight of ice falls against a night sky neither shifting with Northern Lights nor parading tropical clouds in this hinterland of a very ill-tempered temperate zone. It is here, where winter always threatens to remain forever--where it never wants to give way to spring becoming summer--that I am forced to relent.  If it is true, more tears are shed from answered prayers, then surely this one petition is worth the lament: let glorious summer come again.

 

 

Creative Archeology

Here in the Northeast, even though the winter of 2010 was not particularly long, it was still very harsh.  For most of January and February temperatures were well below 32˚F / 0˚C and these were followed by March when the rains came…and came again…and kept coming.  In past years the milder winters made it possible to keep so-called “frost proof” terracotta pots outdoors.  After last winter, however, nearly every unprotected terracotta pot in my garden cracked--or completely broke apart, due to alternating freezing and thawing.  The result was a great collection of terracotta pieces that were ready to be discarded during the spring clean up.

Terracotta, which literally means baked earth in Italian, is just that, clay from the ground that is shaped then fired at a high temperature in a kiln.  Beyond the mere aesthetic appeal of terracotta pots, there are certain advantages to using them. They are naturally porous, which allows water to drain away from the roots of potted plants.  This characteristic minimizes the potential of root rot and other diseases that might come from overwatering.  However, along with their benefits come their susceptibility to breakage.  Even a slight crack can eventually grow and unexpectedly split a whole pot apart.

With the need to be more considerate of using everything to the fullest measure, gardeners seem to find the most judicious ways to salvage broken terracotta pots.  Some will use the remaining pieces to line the bottom of other pots as a way to improve soil drainage.  Another, more artistic, solution is to bury a pot that has broken in half partially in the ground, creating an archeological look.  This is often enhanced with a plant that appears to be growing from the covered “artifact”.  

Given an abundance of so many broken pots last spring, accompanied by a desire to be

environmentally responsible, the usual options seemed very run of the mill. After reading a section on creating stepping stones in the Smith and Hawken  book Garden Structures, written by Linda Joan Smith, the thought of using broken pieces of terracotta in a cement stepping stone came to mind.  The chosen area was on the north side of my house, where an old slate patio fronts a rock garden with a Mediterranean theme.  Lemon trees, in terracotta pots, are placed among the flowers and the front of the bed is flanked with lavender and rosemary.  It is here where several damaged patio slabs were removed and replaced with various pieces of pottery and terracotta positioned in fast-setting concrete.  The result was a group of pieces that were simple to create and, in the end, suggested an archeological site.

When working with concrete, choose a day in late spring or early fall, since temperatures then are optimal for curing to occur at the proper rate.  First, a small area should be excavated for the stepping stone.  A good size for a first attempt might be to create a stone 10 inches (25.4 cm) wide, 16 inches (40.64 cm) long, and at least 4 to 5½ inches (10.16 - 13.97 cm) in depth.  After removing the soil, the empty space should be filled with Sakrete© Fast-Setting Ultra-High Strength Concrete Mix, which can be purchased at any home improvement store.  This particular mix contains a number of small pebbles and stones, which add to a more natural appearance for the finished product.

Arrange the terracotta pieces in the dry concrete, then gently tamp them down with a mallet to insure contact with the mix. Brush away excess concrete dust from the pieces and also from any area surrounding the stone.  Using a garden hose, give the area a good drenching spray for a few minutes until it is thoroughly saturated. It might be necessary to wipe some of the terracotta pieces with a towel to clean them if they are covered by any concrete residue from the spraying process. Allow the stone to set undisturbed and protected from foot traffic for at least 24 hours. After that time, sweep away any loose pebbles and spray down the stepping stone one final time.



The old adage "waste not want not" clearly demonstrates that being mindful of recycling is nothing new.  Gardeners especially are resourceful and imaginative when it comes to getting the most  from their supplies. In this way, using broken terracotta pots as classically inspired accents can promote a more eco-friendly sensibility and, at the same time, provide a cheerful touch of whimsy in a garden.  However, the question remains as to how many of these “relics” one can possibly have without creating the temporal dissonance that begs: Is this Rome or just New Jersey?  Were the Etruscans here or was this merely trucked in from Walmart? Are we in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius or simply within view of the Town of Hempstead’s Waste-to-Energy Incinerator Plant? So, while it may be tempting to want to create a whole garden of these whimsical stepping stones, perhaps a sense of restraint should always temper our artistic--and archeological--endeavors!

The Subject Was Roses

Roses rank as some of the most capricious plants in the garden. They need full sun, generous amounts of water, and regular feeding to ensure continuous flowering throughout the season. Add to this a diligent spraying schedule, proper pruning, and just plain old tender loving care and one might wonder if all these chores are worth it. Still, if anyone has ever smelled Scentimental or Benjamin Britten (above left) the question of whether roses warrant the labor is answered by the most fragrant affirmation. It has been speculated that humanity's fascination with roses goes back as far as 7,000 years. The Chinese are credited as the first to have cultivated them, with the Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks and Romans all following suit. Of all our horticultural ancestors, however, it is the Arabs whom we must thank for actually developing the concept of using the rose en masse in beds, such as those seen at the Generalife (below), a Moorish palace, built in 14th century Spain, that served as the inspiration for the modern rose garden. 

 www.travelinginspain.com/alhambra3.htm

Soil and weather conditions are extremely important when growing roses. Yet, few gardeners naturally possess what could be considered "perfect" soil and most of us have growing seasons that run the gamut from being too wet, too dry or too hot--with a few weeks being comfortably right. Given the vicissitudes of the climate, there is an excellent alternative for those of us who prefer a little more control when growing roses. Containers offer an attractive and economical option, especially in smaller gardens.  Additionally, growing roses this way insures proper watering and gives one more leeway to combat insects and diseases.  Terracotta pots on patios, urns serving as focal points at entry ways, even barrels placed among vegetable and herb beds provide the perfect setting for a variety of roses.  However, instead of choosing hybrid teas roses for this purpose, one should look to cultivars found among the English Roses, developed by pioneering horticulturalist David Austin. Although British and American rosarians do not officially consider "English Roses" as a distinct class unto themselves, they are clearly unique.
 
 
Roses growing in terracotta pots in my
back garden

Austin roses resemble the old-fashioned blooms from still lifes, such as those seen in Panier de Fleurs sur un Entablement, painted by Antoine Berjon in the 1820's (right). Just as their predecessors that adorned the humble and grand European gardens of yesteryear, the Austins sport voluminous shapes, some of the varieties boasting more than 100 petals. Their resemblance to heirloom roses is complimented by their strong fragrances ranging from myrrh and citrus, to old rose and tea. Best is that David Austin roses are more disease resistant than hybid tea roses--although the term disease resistant should not be confused with disease proof. Austins, such as Mary Rose (below), often succumb to balling, a condition wherein the blooms barely open during very wet weather, leaving a globular discoloration where one had hoped for a more handsome showing. However, with the arrival of drier days, an arrangement of pots, bearing roses with names such as Falstaff, Shropshire Lad, The Generous Gardener, and Brother Cadfael, makes an impressive statement and bestows an aromatic celebration of sensory delight. These pots can also be moved around the garden, bringing color and interest to perennial beds that are in transition between blooming times.   



It should be remembered that whether roses are placed in pots or in the ground, care must be given to protect them from any irrigation that might wet their leaves. Plants should be watered at their bases to discourage the proliferation of fungal diseases. The rule of thumb for watering roses in beds is to give them four gallons of water for every week without an inch of rain. A major advantage of growing roses in pots is that they require much less water. In more temperate months, a watering schedule of twice a week to keep the soil moist is substantial. During the thirsty, dog days of July and August, pots may need to be watered every other day to maintain adequate moisture. Faithful watering should be supplemented by two to three spadefuls of composted manure, mixed into the soil every month until the end of August, gives roses a nice boost of nutrients. Some gardeners supplement composted manure with a solution of fish emulsion.  Others use synthetic fertilizers, liquid or granular, but the advice here is to use half the strength of the suggested dosage on the package to avoid burning the foliage. 

Even with the most conscientious care, some roses may still develop fungal diseases, namely black spot, or be plagued by insects that include aphids, Japanese Beetles and thrips.  All have the potential of weakening the vigor of plants by depleting them of nutrients and spreading diseases.  While there are many products on the market that control the ailments to which roses are prone, consideration should be given to home remedies before succumbing to store-bought chemical preparations, which, even at their safest, still retain a level of toxicity. One of the more successful home preparations for black spot and powdery mildew is a 3-2-1 method: three tablespoons of baking soda, two tablespoons of peroxide, and one tablespoon of neem oil, all mixed into a gallon watering can with a small amount of peppermint castile soap in it. After disposing of any infected leaves (which should be placed in a bag, sealed and discarded immediately) the 3-2-1 mixture is poured or sprayed directly on the plant--one of the few times when roses should be watered this way. It is better used as a preventive aid prior to the appearance of any signs of malady. Be advised, that even the most diligent spraying regimen of "organic" solutions must sometimes give way to stronger, commercial products. This is especially the case when widespread disease affects the plant or if insects cannot be controlled by more benign means. 

With the rise of a more modernist aesthetic currently being advanced in garden design, some might view the use of a flower resonating with associations to a bygone era as outmoded--reactionary even.  Many landscape designers treat roses with a type of polite disdain, believing they are best suited to the traditional cottage garden or herbaceous border.  The question then remains: How does a flower, synonymous with romantic excess, find its way into streamlined gardens that seek to incorporate plants more exotic in color and shape, and more abstemious in their demands?  Perhaps this question should be answered with yet another question: Where does a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Enter the David Austin roses, which truly constitute the old and the new, bridging the chasm between the past and the present.  They function as both a traditional expression of the modern, and a modern expression of what is traditional, making them at home in a lush walled garden or a sleek minimalist space. It cannot be denied that roses continue to beguile us with their alluring charm.  Thanks to David Austin, and other contemporary hybridizers consistently striving to improve the breeds, roses may continue to adorn the gardens of humanity for another 7,000 years--and beyond.

For more information about David Austin Roses, visit their website at http://www.davidaustinroses.com/american/advanced.asp