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THE OLDER I GET, the wiser I get — and the more I realize how foolish I was before. Until last weekend, for example, I thought sculpture in gardens was unnecessary — that horticultural beauty trumped man-made art every time. That was before I visited LongHouse Reserve, the 16-acre ‘designed landscape’ owned by textile designer Jack Lenor Larsen that completely changed my view of the interaction of art and nature, and enhanced my appreciation of both.
Dale Chihuly’s glass balls and gourds in a rowboat
First surprise: the place turns out to be not three miles from where I live, off Hands Creek Road in the Northwest Woods section of East Hampton.
George Rickey’s kinetic sculpture in the “Dunes”
The entire spread is a three-dimensional work of art, startlingly beautiful and original. And varied: the first bold stroke, as you enter, is a dunescape created around the Shinto temple-inspired home, top, Larsen built in 1986 (he’s owned the property since 1970). The dunes are planted with trees and shrubs, so there must be some kind of more fertile, anchoring medium underneath.
In many places, the choice of materials is the simplest imaginable. Steps made of railroad ties and gravel. Benches of cut logs. Arbors of twisted rebar, below.
The plantings are largely indigenous, familiar if not native. So many different gardens within the 16 acres: Dry scree (gravel) beds, below, with chartreuse euphorbia in peak bloom now.
Shady fern-filled groves, below.
The gaudy Red Garden, a riot of clashing azaleas punctuated by red pillars (Larsen’s own Study in Heightened Perspectives). A grassy ‘amphitheatre’ sculpted out of the earth. Dells, canyons, allees, lawns, borders, paths, ponds, and pools. One area flows smoothly into another, yet somehow each surprises you as you come upon it.
Black Mirror, water feature by Ray Smith & Assocs.
The sculpture never looks out of place or forced or self-conscious, but magnificently chosen, scaled, and sited. There are many famous names among the 60 large-scale installations: glass by Dale Chihuly, a Willem de Kooning bronze, ceramics by Takaezu, an all-white chess set by Yoko Ono (Play it by Trust), works by Sol LeWitt, Louise Bourgeois, Peter Voulkos. Not inscrutable modern art, but accessible and wholly delightful.
Sol LeWitt’s Irregular Progression High #7, 2006, concrete
In a small museum attached to the house, 2,500 years of African ceramics are on display for the summer season, along with American artist George Rickey’s stainless steel kinetic sculptures — five of them throughout the grounds.
Contemporary African sculpture
Until July, LongHouse is open only six hours a week, Wednesday and Saturday from 2-5PM. You couldn’t spend a more inspiring afternoon.
Buckminster Fuller’s Fly’s Eye Dome, produced by John Kuhtik
A RELIC OF LITERARY BROOKLYN has just hit the market: the fabulous yellow Greek Revival townhouse on Willow Street in Brooklyn Heights, where Truman Capote wrote Breakfast at Tiffany’s, among other works. It’s for sale for the first time since he lived there in the 1950s, with an asking price of $18 million.
Built in 1839, the house has 11 bedrooms, a basement wine cellar, and a 2,500 square foot garden.
Capote rented the garden floor from Broadway art director Oliver Smith for 10 years in the 1950s and 1960s. I remember reading (this may be apocryphal) that he would entertain friends when his landlord was away, pretending the whole house was his.
Capote wrote an essay called “A House on the Heights” that evokes the neighborhood in those early postwar years, before the hulking Cadman Towers replaced hundreds of brownstones. The area was then home to many artists and writers, including W.H. Auden, Christopher Isherwood, and Paul and Jane Bowles, who lived around the corner on Middagh Street in one of those now-razed brownstones.
To see interior pictures of the house, go here.
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THERE’S A VERY APPEALING SCHOOL OF DECORATING involving flea market finds, old stoves and farmhouse sinks, distressed wood furniture — all things vintage, from lighting to linens to glassware. As practiced by Randy Florke, whose Restore. Recycle. Repurpose. (Create A Beautiful Home) has just been published by Hearst/Country Living, the word “cottage” has nothing to do with it.
The only place things get a little grandmother-y in Florke’s vision of sustainable, authentic decorating is in the rolled-arm slipcovered sofas that furnish every living room (not that I have a better idea — sofas are tough). Mostly, it’s the cohesive, controlled, confident, tchotchke-free view of a very handy, tasteful man, raised in Iowa, who’s produced numerous photo shoots for Country Living and other magazines.
It’s not just the furnishings that exemplify the old-fashioned virtues of “simplicity, thrift, and authenticity,” to quote the book’s jacket. Florke is a real estate agent in Sullivan County, New York, specializing in late 19th and early 20th century farmhouses. A veteran of many renos, he’s recycled and re-purposed many stair railings, floor planks, wainscoting, decorative moldings, doorknobs, beams, and ceramic tiles.
If everyone followed his lead, IKEA would go out of business. There’s no place for anything new, except maybe a mattress (TVs and computers are discreetly tucked away).
The book has lots of tips for going green, many by now recycled themselves. The main one, as Florke puts it: “Refuse to feed the land fill.” He admits the vintage stoves are energy-guzzlers compared to today’s modern ones, but it’s a compromise he’s prepared to make. Anyway, I just can’t help but love a guy whose search for a desk or a dresser always begins with a trip to a thrift shop or the Salvation Army.
Celoisa 'Fresh Look Gold'
MY NEW PLANTING BEDS – the ones at the front of my property, that started out last fall as piles of dead oak leaves, supplemented by topsoil and compost – are now almost as green as they are brown, with lots of perennials transplanted from upstate, a few purchases, and donations from friends. Those perennials – salvia, astilbe, catmint, ladies mantle, ligularia, and irises — aren’t blooming yet, and probably won’t put on much of a show this year. Hence all the green. Foliage, but no flowers.
I wanted flowers and I wanted them now. What to do? Hmm, I mused…if only there was a way to get flowers right away. Then it hit me: there is! Annuals!!!
Marigold 'Sweet Cream'
It might seem self-evident to you, but I had never done much with annuals, except window boxes and containers. Putting annuals in the ground always seemed like cheating. I was a perennials snob. Annuals are common. And stiff. The stuff of Victorian ‘bedding schemes.’
But this year, I didn’t care. So – having lit upon this annuals notion, I took myself to Agway in Bridgehampton, where the flats are $16 (that passes for cheap here in the Humptons), and I bought myself a half-dozen flats of some rather pedestrian annuals, sticking to a refined palette of white, yellow, and purple. Of course, they had to be deer-resistant and shade tolerant, except for some marigolds for the sunniest area (at least it was sunny before the oak trees leafed out this week).
Dusty Miller 'Silverdust'
Here’s what I got:
Begonia Bada Boom – bronze foliage, white flowers
Ageratum Hawaii Blue – commonest of the common, but I’ll give them a chance
Celosia Fresh Look Gold – I’m excited about these – chartreuse foliage, yellow plumes, and they grow tall
Marigold Sweet Cream - big off-white flowers
Marigold Durango Yellow
Dusty Miller Silverdust – these may be perennials here
And I couldn’t resist some Ipomoea – sweet potato vine. Remember when these became popular about 10 years back? There were just a couple of types, and they were always so satisfying as ‘spillers’ in pots and window boxes. The other day, I saw many variations, all from Proven Winners, from bronze to purple to yellowish green, with leaves of different shapes. I bought several, and put them in the beds as groundcovers, which I’ve never tried.
Ageratum 'Hawaii Blue'
As I was planting this morning, I tried to weave the little cell-pack annuals in and out naturalistically, rather than lining them up in rows like some, you know, Victorian bedding scheme.
Photos to follow when they fill out a little. Oh – I’ll need more. I ran a bit short. Since my Agway excursion, I checked out Wittendale’s in East Hampton which, though more expensive ($20/flat), has a more interesting, extensive selection. Can’t wait!
Are you doing annuals this year?
Via sfgirlbybay
SOMETIMES THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION IS THE BEST. A couple of weeks ago at Montgomery Place, a historic estate along the Hudson River, I saw an herb garden comprised of nothing but terra cotta pots, below, and had an epiphany. That’s what I’ll do, I thought. I wanted an herb garden but couldn’t figure out where to put it or what shape it should take.
I’ve amassed half a dozen pots, about 8″ in diameter. I’ll buy the herbs I normally use in summer salads and put one herb in each pot. I’ll group the pots in a sunny spot somewhere, and that’s it. Instant, portable herb garden.
White Flower Farm
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