The history of figurative sculpture in the landscape is long, varied, and certainly well documented. That history is part of the attraction for me; any object in any garden has the potential to organize a planted space, create a mood, or strike a chord. Antique garden ornament makes much of the aura that comes from age; what is preserved from one generation speaks to its value. My house is eighty years old-I like that, and I like that I am doing my part to maintain it properly. However figures in the landscape need not be old to strongly resonate with a viewer. Any human face, whether from another time, that place, or right next door, engages me. It seems a lot like preaching to the choir to say that what comes from contact with people is personal, but bear with me. �
To my mind, a landscape or garden that does not personally engage the viewer, or provide opportunities for people to engage each other, lacks soul. A figurative sculpture or bust in a garden will immediately attract and hold the eye. When I buy them, I am first and foremost interested in the expression on the face. An assessment of the condition, the surface, the material, size and price are all secondary considerations. I like faces with complicated, mysterious, or striking expressions-some signs of life. This is easy-what face do you know that is not full of contradictions?
Though I see lots figurative sculpture whose faces I find beautiful and interesting, there are not so many I would want to live with – nothing surprising here. Any face in my garden needs be a face I would want to see every day-whatever my reasons. I have lots of objects in my shop that appeal to numbers of different people. The faces are different; the purchase very personal. Some people look many times, before making a decision. This antique French carved stone face has a very strong and compelling expression. Though not so many expressed interest in it, the person to whom it now belongs likes it a lot.
I have some clients who come to the shop multiple times; they say they miss seeing things in a single visit. But it is easy to spot a face, no matter how busy the background. From a design standpoint, placing a figure in a landscape will guarantee visual attention. A very shady garden spot, an area requiring a very strong focal point, an unexpected placement that rewards a viewer with surprise or delight can be vastly more effective given the right sculpture.
This very fine Austin and Healy sculpture dates from the late nineteenth century in England. Her expression is serene, the sculpting is fluid, the age of the piece greatly adds to its cache. I would read her expression differently any time I took the trouble to really look. Though for obvious reasons I would call this a classical sculpture, I would bet the person who purchased this piece sees her very differently than I. This is why I encourage my clients to consider sculpture in a garden. Sculpture makes a landscape a personal landscape.
This concrete reproduction of the classic fisher girl was not expensive. The casting was not detailed-but the expression was good. I have a very strong memory of the garden in which she was placed. The client spent more than a few moments talking to me about her garden, where she hoped to go with it, and how this sculpture was going to help her get there.
This fresh face belongs to one of a pair of nineteenth century American hermes I purchased some years ago. Hermes, sometimes known as terms, were commonly placed to mark the end, or terminus in a garden. Who is she? This figure of a young woman, who recalls the vitality that is nature, or spring, or youth, has such a strong and engaging expression. I doubt I would ever tire of wondering.
Her counterpart-who is he? An aging and world weary faun or bacchus, pained by the assault on his beard by a baby? His wordly expression is in great contrast to hers.
I imagine these two figures once faced each other, at opposite ends of a garden. From her eyes to his, and his eyes to her- I would never tire of these people in my garden-would you?
The first color I want to feast my eyes on when spring comes is purple. It could not be any further from the light, medium and dark drab I have been looking at for months. Purple flowers have a luminosity and depth that no purple paint could come close to-just try to paint a room crocus purple. Watercolor pigments, thoroughly suspended in water, and applied transparently over a white sheet of paper, come close to luminous. The gold yellow of these stamens are by direct contrast sure to attract pollinators as much as they attract me. But no one does luminous better than nature. 
Though these lavender species crocus planted in a flat do not bloom for long, I pay my money, and go home happy. Sometimes I do the right thing, and plant tufts of them out in the garden. They rebound from the forcing amazingly well, and will take hold in the garden. The hyacinths are another story-these fabulous fakes fool the eye even up close. I have seen people touch them, to check if they are real. I think the fabric is dyed such that the color pools dark to light on each floret. The individual florets are thin enough to permit light to pass through-a more than decent try for luminosity. 
It is an unusual client who will commit to a purple door. I find this refreshing. The front door looks like a package ready to be opened, does it not? The grape hyacinths-who would not have them-all the species and every available hybrids-if they could? 
Laurentia is blue purple. Commonly known as heliotrope blue, the color startles me. In the smallest dose, it reads loud and clear. A small stand of this is as striking as an entire field of sunflowers, as it is so unexpected. An unexpected landscape element-what is yours? 
Verbena bonariensis is one of my favorite flowers. Endowed with all the airy grace of a meadow perennial, it is an annual in my zone. Drought tolerant, sturdily tall, a prolific seeder whose seedlings are easy to weed out-who could ask for more from a plant? These floating dots of red/lavender/purple are beautiful with just about every other color on the planet; this makes them friendly to just about any scheme you have in mind.
Integrifolia dyed purple is a rich royal purple. Placed in front of a pale greenish yellow wall, this complimentary color makes the purple glow. Though no light penetrates these leaves, pairing colors opposing each other on the color wheel is a reasonable approximation of luminosity. 
Pansy purple-everyone knows what that color is. I find it all the more precious as I have it in the spring and early summer-no other time. I call this alyssum the Easter mix-the mix of lavender and purple brings back memories of Easter Sunday hats. Those hats I only saw at Easter-never any other time of year. I am sure I had more than one Sunday dress in some variation of that purple. 
I call this a presentation boxes-don’t ask me what that means, exactly. Draw your own conclusions. This box I made from synthetic moss mats, lime green reindeer moss, natural reed, a particularly fine specimen of poppy pod-and purple fake fur. Purple and lime green-an inspired color combination. 
Purple can be moody, and fugue like. What I call Moses in the Cradle-this dark purple tradescantia, I plant liberally. It tolerates cold, heat, shade, sun and neglect. A new variety I tried this year has a white and cerise variegation; such a fancy outfit must be why it does not grow vigorously. But the ordinary Moses will make a stunning bouquet for you. Persian Shield is a moody mix of blue green and red violet in this more sunny location. 
Tender is a very smart dress shop where they take their fashion seriously. As I take the landscape seriously, we relate just fine to one another. Commercial clients understand that the presentation of their business outdoors says a lot about what goes on inside. They want the outside of their store to look as fresh and newly conceived as what they carry inside. I am thinking about Tender today, as 
A container planting is a one-season committment. Unlike the landscape, the plants have to be replaced every year. The responsibility for a landscape can go on for many years. I sometimes don’t make changes that I should, out of sheer inertia. But my containers force change on me. I have no choice but to observe and learn how to do better, and redo them-or be stuck twiddling my thumbs from sheer boredom. A container planting is a miniature version of any landscape. I would much prefer growing up as a gardener over four square feet and some annuals, than 100 square feet and a truckload of shade perennials. 
Pumpkin hats on the conical boxwood-this made me smile. The willow sticks dyed orange-I bought an entire container load of these some years ago from Spain- in lots of jewel like colors. Several hundred thousand sticks-no kidding. Getting a phytosanitary certificate sufficient to get them through customs was a headache that made me want to black out. Though looking at this picture makes me want them again in the worst way, I know something new is just ahead of me. 
The winter is our quiet season. Our colors are subdued, but not our gardening spirit. But for these planters, with their Alberta spruce topiaries and their greens, this view would be more bleakly about concrete than need be. 
This year one gallon size PJM rhododendron and dwarf globe arborvitae filled the rectangular pots. I bought dead trees from my nursery supplier, and varnished the bark after dusting them with copper spray paint. Platinum ball ornaments and squares of tarred jute ornament the trees. Each tree had a bird’s nest of fine platinum colored wire at the base. A winter landscape.