Sunday 30 November 2014

The Garden and the Dune Lake - The Midnight Collective Essay


Welcome to the Midnight Collective Broadsheet 53
Actively supporting NZ’s endangered wetland birds
Frances Jill Studd's  artist garden 
This is the artist, Frances Jill Studd’s flower garden, pictured at the end of Spring. It has affinities to an English cottage garden (Jill was born and spent her childhood in England), but significant differences and these are worth ferreting out. And while this may seem to have little to do with the life of a dune lake swamp, a little reflection will reveal the connection, for it involves how we see ourselves in relation to the world in which we live.
 
The original garden was established on a sand dune and it dates back to the late 1970’s. A retired farming couple from North Canterbury formed and then tended it for thirty years. They placed this area (pictured) as a female centre to the garden, but Jill  transformed this from its original formal ambitions as a garden to be gazed at from afar. The vegetable garden next to it, is its opposite –burly and voluble, it is typically male and utilitarian, a garden ordered into rows - then worked in to harvest crops  from. The small size of this veggie plot means that this is primarily for pleasure and not profit –though it retains the sly allusion, that it could be paying its way.  
 
The female centre to this garden originally featured shrubs fashionable in their  time, miniature conifers, azaleas and native hebe. There are also three mature camelia on the property, one sited at the back left of the photo. The salt breeze burns their leaves; but nevertheless they flourish in this sand dune country bringing a soft glow of pink and red into winter as they flower through June to August. They also provide nesting sites for blackbird families in spring and summer which indicates how a garden will integrate itself into a wider ecology despite its owners separatist intentions. The shrubs are purchased at a local nursery and while they indicate the gardeners personal taste and pleasure, they don’t have any deeper connection with them.
 
Another survivor from that original garden is the broom to the left of it. This lights the garden yellow in early spring but like citrus, it is vulnerable to local stem borer which will finally kill it off. This insect is a native and Jill won’t use sprays, so adopts a policy of strategic pruning and then replacement as the infestation kills the plant.
 
The native plants that she fosters also indicate how the world has changed in 50 years when natives were viewed as colourless inferiors  to exotics. These include, 6 kowhai trees (to attract tui, and other honey easters), ringaringa, 2 cabbage trees, 4 manuka, a native fuchsia, hoheria (lacebark), and a native hibiscus.
These hibiscus aren’t originally native, but were brought to New Zealand from the South Pacific islands by Maori around the 13th Century. I well remember being chastised by a botanist friend, when I suggested that perhaps the seed arrived accidentally with the soil around the kumara (sweet potato). -Why would you assume that? was his phlegmatic response. In fact Maori were as keen on their gardens as the rest of humanity and this explains why pohutukawa (the NZ Christmas tree) were flourishing in Te Arawa country on the shores of Lake Rotorua in the central North Island when Cook first arrived in 1769.
 
Jill progressively remade this central garden in an English cottage style, but it has none of the formal structure of such gardens. Here different plant species were planted in beds beside each other -the stocks separate from the marigolds which were separated  from the roses which usually had beds of their own (indicating status), all of which was part and parcel of the way a post-war NZ ordered its suburban garden décor (and its suburban lives). To a large degree it still is. Her annuals coexist however, in the manner of a pasture of wild flowers. She brings an artist’s mettle to this planting, so nothing is either simple or unsurprising or sequenced, and yet  everything is  meticulously placed to grow into itself. As such it is a design that evolves from year to year.
Tararua Foxglove
And these plants include those with a significant personal history. Her mother’s daffodils –her mother-in-law’s wintersweet - an elderly friend’s yellow daisy -her school chum’s Canterbury Bells -the lavender from her first flat in Devonport Auckland.  And much else has been ‘requisitioned’ from public gardens and elsewhere (Garden theft is an honest art practiced by all). This includes a rose from the Cook’s Beach memorial (where Capt Cook observed the Transit of Mercury in Feb 1770), and wild foxglove seed harvested from the Tararua Park.
Cook's rose, Cooks Beach - Coromandel

There are heritage plants here too, the seeds tracked down on the internet - granny bonnet, and anchusa - honeywart to bring the bees, then a big, rangy, uncontrollable buddleia for butterflies; along with tobacco plant first seeded from an artist’s  residency in Ranfurly, up on the Maniototo plateau, in central Otago.
So this is a garden not to be viewed from a distance but to be lived in, puzzled over, fostered and moved through. It is constantly evolving and it is a moveable feast - a living garden, that she carries with her when she moves her residential address. It also reappears massaged into her artwork...
Frances Jill Studd -Mantle 6 - u8Digital photograph 2013
Such a garden provides an example of the kind of sophisticated  sensibility we need to bring to our understanding and rehabilitation of rare and delicate ecosystems. The Raumati Beach dune lake sits in the middle of town and has attracted a rich variety of birdlife to its fecund waters. It is now doomed, as the juggernaut of the expressway creeps ever closer but it’s complex, integrated and vulnerable life cycle appears already to have been irreversibly damaged by it.
Emptied - Raumati Beach dune lake -Nov 2014
Yet even where rehabilitation of our wetlands is being promoted they are compromised by walking and cycle tracks built for human pleasure and recreation and not the ecosystems wellbeing. This is not the way to introduce a human presence back into these vulnerable areas, but an extension of the history of human domination and disfigurement.  This has involved the gradual  reduction or local extinction of all our native species. The wetland forest and the delicate native orchids and gentians were the first to go. They have been followed now by even the hardiest of survivalists, like the raupo. The same goes for our threatened bird life.
 
With the premature drying up of this wetland this year we have seen that human predatory influence in action. We have seen none of the rich variety of birdlife that we usually see down here. We are unlikely to see it again. 
 
Track we were listening to while posting this San Francisco (Wear some flowers in your hair)  Ok- (chosen by the guest artist!) 
For those who come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
In the streets of San Francisco
Gentle people with flowers in their hair

Scott McKenzie of course - but oh! how San Francisco has changed since then. 



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