Garten Praxis,  October 2001

Never  has a major American  garden inspired such vigorous   public debate across  such broad battle lines as has  the ambitious central garden designed by Robert Irwin at the  new Getty Museum in Los Angeles.  Attackers and defenders  quickly  manned the battlements as Irwin’s design  revealed itself  to be dismissive of  the established wisdom of  plantsmen, landscape architects, and in particular that of Richard Meier,  museum architect and creator  of this  American  acropolis of  monolithic white marble. 

Famously described by Irwin as  “a sculpture in the form of a garden aspiring to be art”,  the garden consists of a “chain of water”  beginning as a stream  from the  museum above and  descending a steep slope  hidden beneath giant boulders from Wyoming and South Dakota,  hand selected by Irwin.   An angular,  zigzag pathway descends above the stream,   lacing through  a formal allee of  Eastern Sycamore trees   ( Platinus acerifolia   “Yarwood”) .  The water reemerges mid-slope onto a central plaza dominated by six towering steel armatures covered with bougainvillea.  This plaza overlooks the  grand finale, a  richly planted circular  labyrinth  terminating in a water maze.  Concentric walkways are planted  above the water maze with a  dazzling  variety of  perennials, annuals, vines,  roses and  tropicals.   Plantings on the  eastern bank of the bowl  are cooler “morning colors”,  the western side is packed with hot pinks, reds and oranges.

Irwin’s defenders are  artists and advocates of boundary-breaking, rule-trampling creativity.  When questioned about the criticisms , Irwin laughingly retorts   “Let’s just think of this as art”.  

Los Angeles Times art critic  Christopher Knight  replies to critic’s rants  with an assertion :   “The  great  thing  about a garden folly is that it’s,  well, a folly.  In a world of practical decorum, rationalism  suddenly doesn’t apply.  When the folly is conceived as the garden itself,  rather than a discrete structure within a garden, then be prepared to suspend every expectation.”

To put the overall picture in perspective, it is  important to remember that Irwin created the labrythine opus with some profoundly limiting  caveats  and   equally  extravagant  resources. The garden must  hold its own in a dialog with  the  massive  amphitheater  looming above like the wall of the Roman Coliseum.  It must accommodate well  over one million visitors a year, be wheelchair friendly, and lastly,  it must amuse and entertain  many of those  one million who do not garden and do not especially care about gardens.  It accomplishes all  this and more.  

When Irwin began to select plants, he did it his own way, much as any artist  selects materials.  He chose plants from  catalogs, cut out the paper illustrations and made a collage.  His decision to use  azaleas (Redbird, Pink Lace and Duke de Rohan)  in the lower “floating” knot-shaped planters sitting in  the water,  masses of  crepe myrtles    ( Lagerstroemia indica   ‘Muskogee’)  and other choices inflamed the horticultural authorities.  Artists chant   “Why not?”  This creation is not a presented as a garden  per se, but  as an exercise in the utilization of the garden motif as art.

 Guy Cooper and Gordon Taylor,  in their visionary publication, Gardens of the Future,  reflect this interpretation of Irwin’s creation:  “When he accepted the challenge he confirmed that he was not a gardener.  However, we consider the Lower Central Garden as a masterpiece of site-generated landscape design.  Its main elements have emerged from Irwin’s deep analysis of the site, but they also reflect some of the most expressive and important moments in the garden history of many cultures.  The design incorporates the serpentine, the zigzag, a Japanese reverence for the placing of stones, the formal allee,  the circle, a  variation on the spiral, the labyrinth, the terrace,  viewing points and a unique and expressive use of plants.”  

A  journey down through the shaded stream bed, with the  raucous sound of  water chattering beneath the path and out into the shadow of the massive parasols of  vine-coated  metal bars  to the edge of the waterfall is  a  unique experience with the unexpected.   It is a  submersion  into an  M.C. Escher-meets-California hedonism of  form, color,  and merging geometric lines.

Water provides   the essential sense of continuity through the entire experience of the garden.  The water actually  originates above the  garden space from architect  Meier’s   much more formal environment. Dropping through a mysterious alcove  from above  into an artificial  grotto,  the water  immediately   disappears beneath the most massive stones in the garden.  As water  emerges  from beneath progressively  smaller  boulders, the plant palette shifts from  silver grey  such as Artemisia,  Helicrysum,  Convolvula cneorum  and Erisymum “Bowles Mauve”,  to green  collections   including   Euphorbia  , Hellibore,  Blue Oat Grass, (Helictotrochion sempervirens),  Fescue  and  an occasional ghostly  Dudleya,   to finish  below in a  circus  of red, yellow and blue hues.  Blue-flowered  marguerite ( Felicia amelloides “Varegata”) ,  eerie red pencil bush ( Euphorbia tirucalli  “Sticks of Fire”)   and coral  plant  ( Russelia equisetaformus) , mingle with spears of  New Zealand Flax ( Phormium), pale yellow Nicotiana,  pink flowered Geranium maderense, purple  Heliotrope  and pale  Abelia x grandiflora “Francis Mason”   at the  bottom of the allee.     The   sound of running  water  also  increases to a  crescendo, rushing out  from  the colorful finale  to plunge over the main waterfall  into  the  bowl of the  lower  garden.  An arching  crescent metal  grid doubles as  both  a safety rail  and  a  threshold   for the  plunge into the lower garden.  Pie-shaped  geometric quadrants of  contrasting groundcovers  ( Antennaria, Delosperma, Thymus)  and  incongruous  rows of  wicker armchairs beneath the sculptural   “trees”   lend further drama  and  offbeat humor to the  garden’s increasingly  playful atmosphere.  Bright  red  Bouganvilla  “Tahitian Dawn”  will ultimately  cover  the structures.   The sycamore trees may  eventually  reach  a height of  more that 100 feet, and Irwin is reported  to note that  only later will they  achieve proper scale  for his intended effect

Throughout the  garden an additional  sense of  mass and  stylistic continuity is  achieved with use of  sheets of Cor-Ten steel.  Abstract  panels of    the thick metal  plate  form the retaining walls for the  zigzag path  and bridges that  crisscross  the stream.  They  reappear as edging  for the tiers of rock lining  the  lower streambed. Wide curving  arcs of  brown steel embrace the  groupings of chairs under the armatures in the central plaza. The slashing,  graphic figure describing the  final descent of the path into the  lower bowl  is defined by the same  steel plates.  Steel also  defines the edge of the boxwood (Myrsine africana)   fringed  paths in  the plant galleries there as well.  Everywhere in the  garden this omnipresence of    steel lends a powerful sense of rooted mass,  and  along with the stone that forms the  stream bank and the  steep   walls overlooking  the lower bowl,  echoing back to the  omnipresent mass and  density of  the museum buildings.

Some critics are miffed that  Irwin’s path ultimately  leads  the visitor down and away from the  panoramic view of the city and ocean and  but he is  intent on keeping the  experience  of  immersion in the garden . The  stream plunges straight off   into a page from the art of Andy Goldsworthy.  Like Goldsworthy’s  inspired constructions, Irwin’s approach  manipulates familiar  natural materials  into an highly artificial  arrangement.  The plantings  in the lower  amphitheater  present a kaleidoscope of  plants,  sky, and  water, edged   with  banks  crepe myrtle and  flowering garlic ( Allium tuberosm). The  rim of the white marble museum  looms above  and the  cryptic  knot garden of  azaleas,  surrounded by a field of dusty rose-colored  Kalenchoe  pumila,   reprises the curve below. 

Seasonal mass plantings of cosmos or dahlias shift the color palate.  Irwin had a generous budget  for plant maintenance and replacement  Large display beds of annuals  are commonly seen in other  public botanic gardens or  corporate showplaces without  inspiring comment. When  Irwin simply applies these  strategies and resources to his more unconventional purpose,  it arouses outrage.

Much has been made of the contrast and conflict between the  monolithic forms  of  Meier’s  impassive, travertine   architecture  and the  zany,  colorful chaos  of  Irwin’s  garden. This contrast can clearly seen  as a direct reflection of the men behind the  respective parts of the  Getty Center. A  visit to  the  museum, with its  stark white-on-white plazas and fountains and  classical bluntness of a Grecian stone quarry is a study in  monochromatic architectural space.  One has  the sensation of  being on board some great ocean liner moored on a hill over Los Angeles.   Meier’s  buildings are daunting in scale,  and  unyielding in their sheer  indifference to men, nature or time.  Irwin’s garden, on the other hand,  grows like a giant tropical flower  bursting from the seams of this  starkness with unrepentant  gaiety, firmly rooted in the glory of the seasonal  moment.   Seen from above, the garden’s overall layout does indeed replicate that of a plant,  with its stem ( the stream path) , flowing sap ( water)  and  riotous  colorful  round blossom  ( the lower bowl)  blooming with every color of the rainbow.  It is sassy, playful, enigmatic and unpredictable.  Like Alice’s trip  through the looking glass, visitors  must abandon expectations and  travel into a new  country.

  This contrast is ultimately and  quintessentially  about art and  about American culture with  two  staunchly original and  individual   creations  juxtaposed  against each other in the most audacious city in the world…….the City of Angels.

Knight put it thus :  “As a artist, Irwin’s job is to first make us unknow what we thought we knew.  Thus refreshed, we are ready to experience  pleasures previously unimagined.  Rather than a moralizing  Virtue Garden, Irwin has given us an eye-popping Perceptual Garden, filled with unexpected delights.  For a cultural powerhouse like the Getty, what could be better that that?” 

Charles Mann

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Located north of the  Los Angeles airport on the 405 freeway, the Getty  Center is  open  Saturday, Sunday  from 10A.M.  to  6 P.M., Tuesday and Wednesday  from 10 A.M. to 7 P.M.  and Thursday and Friday from  10 A.M. to  P.M.   Closed Mondays and major holidays.

Admission is free. Parking is $5.00  with reservations, or take the MTA Bus #561 or  Santa Monica Big Blue Bus #14. 

Call 310-440-7300 or  on the Web at  www.getty.edu.