Ebony's Pearls

'Shrooms!
Originally uploaded by nodigio

Gardens tell tales. They speak in shape and scent, in texture and color. They weave hidden messages in their names and in their seasonal growth. Medieval gardens spoke of adventure and betrayal, of healing next to death, of exuberance and bounty, of hard work and dalliance. Cottage gardens speak of coziness and welcome. Vegetable gardens all in neat rows speak of war against hunger, constantly vigilant for the weedy, buggy invader. Victorian gardens speak of nature constrained and tamed, bound tightly into a palette of paint regimented into formal beauty. There are gardens of pastoral delight and gardens of hedge and grass and granite monsters.

Modern gardens owe much to the Victorians, with its façade of ever-blooming paradise. It was the Victorians who made gardens prim and proper and prudish. Throughout history, the garden has held a persistent gothic thread in counterpoint to then-current notions of beauty. Nature was viewed as ambivalent, with all the shades of life – from the most beneficent to the most malevolent. Gardens routinely made space for melancholy. Amid the cheerful daisies, one could encounter the frisson of horror evoked by a half-glimpsed skull.

Before Disneyland, the great gardens were our ancestors theme parks. The designers of the gardens would deploy all manner of special effects to evoke carefully orchestrated emotions from the visitors, even going so far as to hire hermits to live in gloomy grottoes and highwaymen to add a moment of thrill – the precursor of costumed characters. We see some of this still in Japanese gardens. Consider the effects and evocative nature of grottos, overgrown ruins, bridges, waterfalls, garden grotesques and statues, fountains, and arches framing views. The Victorians took these tricks and special effects and tamed them into a bucolic and sanitized garden. Even the ruins were prettified. Utilitarian gardens of vegetables and healing herbs were hidden away, and only the sweet, charming, and wholesome garden was allowed to be in view.

Gothic gardeners reclaim the full beauty and power of nature. Thoreau declared he’d rather live by the most dismal swamp than the most lovely garden where nature became no more than tubes of paint. Even though modern gardens have become more naturalistic, they still owe much to the nostalgia of the Victorians. Gardeners are called upon to nurture delicate flowers and defend them against nature’s invasions of weeds and pests. It’s a classic Gothic drama of innocence besieged, and I think it’s about time this theme was well addressed.

Morticia Addams was an innovative gardener, with her carnivorous and poisonous plants, Her philosophy that there was something to be said for the thorns and the flower just got in the way, exemplified by clipping off the rose blossoms, was such an avant garde garden concept that it’s taken decades for it to percolate through our conscious minds. As ever, the fringes caught the concept and developed it. All over the internet, you find references to Black Gardens and Gothic Gardening, so much so that people try to breed black flowers and black plants to feed the need for the sinister side of nature.

There is, of course, no truly black flower. Many come close, but they are deep maroons, dark chocolates, and even intense violets. A completely black garden is impossible to create, and a true Gothic Garden wouldn’t consist of all black plants anyway.

Black would be the background, the twining thread that connected the garden into a theme. A true Gothic Garden would be layered with meanings. Even if the surface look of a Gothic Garden left a passerby with the impression that it was cheerful, a deeper look would reveal the message Goths want to send: that pain is, that melancholy matters, that the price of life is death. Decadence isn’t always evil. Innocence is besieged, whether it triumphs only time can tell. Pretty is poignant and the plants in a Gothic Garden remind us that nature has better things to than to flatter us mere mortals.

Most gardeners will tell you that the first rule of gardening is to include only plants that share the same growing conditions. In Gothic Gardening, that rule is meant to be broken. Consider microclimates, build them if necessary, to create the ambiance you want in your garden. We Gothic Gardeners want misfits in our garden and if it takes extra effort to keep them there, then so be it. Weeds, too, have their place. The Gothic Theme is broad enough to encompass a wide range of plants because even the most cheerful filler plant speaks to the theme.

A Gothic Garden is a mood and a message. If you can see past the bold spikes and defiant architecture, the Gothic Garden speaks deeply of life and death, of misfits and innocence, of betrayal and loyalty. Should you decide to design a Gothic Garden, consider all the elements – the fencing and borders, the benches, the arches, the plinths and fountains and reflecting pools, the foliage and flowers, the thorns and gnarls, the statues and ornaments and pathways as well as the plants. Design it as a theme park would be designed, with moments of intense emotion and moments of quiet reflection. Add a bit of whimsy. The theme can be drawn from the looks of the plant as well as its name or history or use. Poison plants also heal. Prickly plants nourish. Consider the ironic as a part of the Gothic Garden. Don’t be afraid to add color to a Gothic Garden, because life isn’t all despair, pain, and death. A bright garden butterfly on a stake over a plinthed skull resting among dark purple angelica says life is beautiful and fleeting, sweet and bitter. The garden is about life – the seamy, scary underside as well as the wholesome happy side. Any plant can fit into a Gothic theme – they don’t have to be black, burgundy, maroon, or deep violet. Candy pink roses and yellow buttercups have a place beside the brooding black bamboo and the gloomy black mondo grass. Mingle them judiciously, and your Gothic Garden will be a place of pride.