Arcadia Jardinium

This morning, I got out my green fingers and did a bit of gardening. Now considering that my garden is four pot plants on the tiny balcony of my flat, I wholly accept that the term may be a bit loosely applied. I should also add that this consisted of hacking dead branches off brown plants with some scissors. And yet, the soil under my fingernails, the snipping and the crunching of dry leaves gave me immense satisfaction. Subconsciously, I imagine that this shaping of a natural corner harkens to a need to master and control the elements, not hard when dealing with a decaying gerranium.
 

L/ Bibliotheque National de France, R/ Musée du quai Branly

City central living makes any contact with greenery all the more enjoyable, and given that studies have revealed the important role of biodiversity in mental wellbeing, it is encouraging that cities such have Paris are increasing the green spaces in their concrete jungles. Along with the grand jardins conceived during Haussman's restructuring of the city in the 19th century, I am impressed by the latest attemps which juxtapose vegetation with glass and steel. The national library has a thick pine forest springing up amongst the glass walls, whilst a carpet of lush succulents and ferns cascade down the sides of the Quai Branly Museum.

The creation of the first gardens stems back to rich land owners wishing to create a place of dominion, where a manicured and arranged box hedge could line the driveway up to the manor. Cultural trends have since lead the way in garden design. Baroque painting with a view towards classical Greece and Rome resulted in the addition of statues and folleys in gardens in the 1600s, whilst the focus of British landscape artists such as Constable in the 1800s meant that geometric designs previously favored such as at Versailles, were now replaced with sweeping vistas on rural inspired lawns. William Kent was famous for his reinterpretation of gardens as Arcadian set pieces, sometimes planting dead trees to create a melancholic mood. Simon Schama points out how these constant references within gardens has resulted in landscapes tarnished with human cultural perceptions.

L/ Lorrain 1682, Ascanius shooting the stag of sylvia, R/ Friedrich 1824, Man and woman contemplating the moon.

Is it possible to consider these gardens as true pieces of nature? Like the proponents of the concept of wilderness (discussed here), certain authors view these "cultural artefacts" as one of the reasons that we are so blasé about the destruction of natural spaces which were uncreated by the hand of man. These artificial recreations of natural spaces have according to them, clouded our vision as to what truly is nature, and devalued the role of evolution of thousands of years to create a equilibrium of organisms.  If we are able to create a forest in the middle of a concrete landscape, what is to stop us from destroying a part of the Amazon and building in its place a concrete towerblock. The problem as always, lies in our narrow perception of what is nature.

A fair point, but I am not so sure. It is true that we are detached, but these green spaces allow us to reconnect if only temporarily with the rest of the natural world. Furthermore, whilst not arranged by the selective hand of evolutionary forces, but by a gloved hand and a pair of secateurs, these gardens provide homes to an array of transitory species. The end result of this mornings gardening is 4 pots of bare soil. I have no doubt that left to their own devices, they will fill with air-borne plants, insects and microorganisms without me touching them. Im not sure whether I can still call this gardening, or whether I can claim any credit, but i can at least be sure that it is free of "cultural artefacts".