“Keep off the Grass”
Last weekend I watched my toddlers running their hands through the grass borders at Wimpole Hall whilst anxiously looking over my shoulder to check no-one was watching. It was like we were doing something naughty and this got me to thinking about the texture of the landscape and our interaction with it.
So often gardens and landscapes are thought of as purely aesthetic, something to admire, view from afar, take photos of. The idea of a “show garden” supports this perception, with ropes and boundaries cordoning off the gardens from the general public, leaving people jostling for the best vantage point. Wandering around country estates you are bombarded with signs commanding “Keep of the Grass” and there’s more of the same at a whole host of landscapes and open spaces across the UK.
Thinking of handrails and instructional signs, my mind reflects back to thoughts of my time in Australia; climbing the local mountain in a pair of trainers and perching myself precariously on a warm rock at the top to breathe in the view. Below me a sheer drop of several hundred feet and not a hand rail in sight. I have never felt freer.
There are lots of reasons behind this culture of restraint with regard to touching the landscape: The idea of safety “don’t climb the trees, you might fall out”, the ever increasing blame culture “if it happened on your land, it’s your fault”, the idea of preservation; our natural world is more fragile than ever before but I can’t help but feel that the landscape was created to be not just admired but experienced. Can gardens be truly understood from the outside? Or is it our interaction with them that makes them so captivating?
The landscape should be felt, touched, smelled and tasted. Kids should climb trees, roll in the dirt and run through meadows of long grass feeling the stalks whip against their faces. Seeing pictures of landscapes and even architecture on social media, how often do people comment about “contrasting textures” and how often are we are drawn to the ones which make us want to be there, want to touch them.
Of course preservation is important and sometimes segregation is necessary but so is education and responsibility. We should teach each other and our children to enjoy the landscape with respect. Teach them to feel the textures of grass on their feet and bark against their hands but to do so whilst taking care. We need to remember to be gentle, to be kind, to never take more than we need and to use our interactions to improve rather than destroy.
On this planet, there is barely an inch of earth that is untouched by the hand of man so good design is ever more important. It is the responsibility of Landscape Architects to be custodians of the land. Their designs shouldn’t just look remarkable but feel remarkable too. We should create spaces which are dynamic and that encourage rather than restrict human contact so that people can be experiential in learning the value of the natural world. And if we can achieve that, if we can educate future generations to interact with the landscape in all its many textures and colours, we have the power to show people how to place a value on the landscape higher than any monetary one.